_Joseph._ My spowse, ȝe be with childe, I fere ȝow to kary, ffor me semyth it were werkys wylde; But ȝow to plese ryght ffayn wold I, ȝitt women benethe to greve whan thei be with childe. Now latt us fforth wende as ffast as we may, And almyghty God spede us in oure jurnay! _Maria._ A! my swete husbond, wolde ȝe telle to me, What tre is ȝon standynge upon ȝon hylle? _Josephe._ fforsothe, Mary, it is clepyd a chery tre; In tyme of ȝere ȝe myght ffede ȝow theron ȝour ffylle. _Maria._ Turne ageyn, husbond, and behold ȝon tre, How that it blomyght now so swetly. _Joseph._ Cum on, Mary, that we worn at ȝon cyté; Or ellys we may be blamyd, I telle ȝow lythly. _Maria._ Now, my spowse, I pray ȝow to behold, How the cheryes growyn upon ȝon tre; ffor to have therof ryght ffayn I wold, And it plesyd ȝow to labore so meche for me. _Joseph._ ȝour desyre to ffulfylle I xal assay sekyrly, Ow to plucke ȝow of these cheries; it is a werk wylde, ffor the tre is so hyȝ it wol not be lyghtly, Therfore lete hym pluk ȝow cheryes begatt ȝow with childe. _Maria._ Now, good Lord, I pray the graunt me this boun, To have of these cheries, and it be ȝour wylle: Now, I thank it God, this tre bowyth to me downe! I may now gaderyn anowe, and etyn my ffylle. _Josephe._ Ow, I know weyl I have offendyd my God in Trinyté, Spekyng to my spowse these unkynde wurdys; ffor now I beleve wel it may non other be, But that my spowse beryght the kyngys son of blys; He help us now at oure nede! Of the kynrede of Jesse worthely were ȝe bore, Kynges and patryarkys ȝow beffore, Alle these wurthy of ȝour kynred wore, As clerkys in story rede. _Maria._ Now, gramercy, husbond, for ȝour report! In oure weys wysely late us forth wende; The fadyr allemyghty he be oure comfort! The Holy Gost gloryous he be oure frende! _Joseph._ Heyl, wurchepful sere, and good day! A ceteceyn of this cyté ȝe seme to be; Of herborwe ffor spowse and me I ȝow pray, ffor trewly this woman is fful weré, And fayn at reste, sere, wold she be; We wolde ffulffylle the byddynge of oure emperoure, ffor to pay trybute, as ryght is oure, And to kepe oureselfe ffrom dolowre, We are come to this cyté. _Cives._ Sere, ostage in this towne know I non, Thin wyff and thou in for to slepe; This ceté is besett with pepyl every won, And ȝett thei ly withowte fful every strete. Withinne no walle, man, comyst thou nowth, Be thou onys withinne the cyté gate; On ethys in the strete a place may be sowth, Theron to reste, withowte debate. _Joseph._ Nay, sere, debate that wyl I nowth; Alle suche thyngys passyn my powere: But ȝitt my care and alle my thought Is for Mary, my derlynge dere.