_Primus doctor._ Or that we weryn born, nay that may nat be; The ȝongest of us tweyn is iij. score ȝere of age, And thiselfe art but a chylde, al men may wel se, Late camst out of cradyl, as it semyth be thi vesage. _Jhesus._ I am of dobyl byrthe and of dobyl lenage; ffyrst, be my Fadyr I am without gynnynge, And lyke as he is hendeles in his hyȝ stage, So xal I also nevyr mor have endynge. ffor be my ffadyr, kynge celestyalle, Without begynnyng I am endles; But be my modyr that is carnalle, I am but xij. ȝere of age, that is expres; My body of ȝoughe doth shewe wyttnes, Whiche of my modyr here I dude take; But myn hyȝ godhede, this is no lesse, Alle thinge in this worlde forsothe dude I make. _Secundus doctor._ Be ȝour fadyr that endles is: Who is ȝour modyr? telle us we pray. _Jhesus._ Be my fadyr, the hyȝ kynge of blys, A modyrles chylde I am veray. _Primus doctor._ Who was ȝour fadyr to us than say? Be ȝour modyr a woman that was. _Jhesus._ I am ffadyrles; as for that may, Of fleschly luste she dude nevyr trespas. _Secundus doctor._ Telle us, I pray ȝow, what is ȝour name? What hyght ȝoure modyr? telle us also. _Jhesu._ Jhesu of Naȝareth, I am the same, Born of a clene mayd, prophetys seyd so; Ysaye seyd thus,—“Ecce virgo!” A mayd xal conceyve in clennes a chylde: ȝitt ageyn nature and alkende, loo! ffrom alle wenn of synne pure and undefylde. Mary, the chylde of Joachym and Anne, Ys that clene mayd, and here childe am I; The frute of here wombe xal save every manne ffrom the grett dowte of the ffyndys tormentry. _Primus doctor._ Alle the clerkys of this worlde trewly Cannot brynge this to declaracion; Lesse than thei have of God Almyghty Sum influens of informacion. _Secundus doctor._ No, jentyl Jhesu, we ȝow pray, Whyl that we stodye a whyle to dwelle; In cas mo dowtys that we fynde may, The trewthe of hem ȝe may us telle. _Jhesu._ Goo, take ȝour stodye and avyse ȝow welle, And alle ȝour leysere I xal abyde; If any dowtys to me ȝe melle, The trewthe therof I xalle unhyde. _Maria._ Alas! alas! myn hert is wo, My blyssyd babe awey is went; I wott nevyr whedyr that he is go: Alas! for sorwe myn hert is rent! Jentyl hysbond, have yow hym sent Out on herrande to any place? But yf ȝe knowe were he is bent, Myn hert for woo asondyr wyl race. _Joseph._ On my massage I hym not sent, Forsothe, good wyff, in no degré; How longe is it that he hens went? What tyme dude ȝe ȝour childe last se? _Maria._ Trewly, gode spowse, not these days thre; Therfore myn herte is cast in care: Hym for to seke, wher so he be; In hast, good husbonde, lete us forthe fare.