_Joseph._ Than to Hierusalem lete us streyte wende, ffor kynred gladly togedyr wole gon; I hope he is ther with sum good ffrende; Ther he hath cosyns ryght many on. _Maria._ I am aferde that he hath fon, ffor his grett wyttes and werkys good; Lyke hym of wytt fforsothe is non,— Every childe with hym is wrothe and wood. Alas, my babe! my blys! my blood! Whedyr art thou thus gon fro me? My sowle! my swetyng! my frute! myn ffood! Send me sum wurd where that thou be! Telle me, good seres, ffor charyté, Jhesu, my childe, that babe of blysse, Among this compayné dude ȝe hym se? ffor Godys love, telle where he is! _Primus doctor._ Of oo qwestyone I am bethought, Alle of ȝour modyr, that blessed may; In what governauns is she brought? How is sche rewlyd be nyght and day? _Jhesu._ An old man, Joseph, as I ȝow say, Here weddyd be meracle onto his wyff; Here for to fede and kepe alway, And bothyn in clennesse be maydenys olyff. _Secundus doctor._ What nede was it here to be wedde Onto a man of so grett age? Lesse than thei myght bothe a go to bedde, And kept the lawe of maryage. _Jhesus._ To blynde the devyl of his knowlache, And my byrthe from hym to hyde,— That holy wedlok was grett stopage, The devyl in dowte to do abyde. Also, whan sche xulde to Egypte gon, And fle from Herowde, for dowte of me; Becawse she xulde nat go alon, Joseph was ordeyned here make to be, My ffadyr, of his hyȝ magesté, Here for to comforte in the way: These be the cawsys, as ȝe may se, Why Joseph weddyd that holy may. _Maria._ A! dere childe! dere chylde! why hast thou thus done? ffor the we have had grett sorwe and care; Thy ffadyr and I thre days have gone, Wyde the to seke of blysse ful bare. _Jhesus._ Why have ȝe sought me with hevy fare? Wete ȝe not wele that I muste bene Amonge hem that is my faderes ware, His gostly catel for to ovyrsen? _Maria._ ȝour ffaderes wyl must nedys be wrought, It is most wurthy that it so be; ȝitt on ȝour modyr have ȝe sum thought, And be nevyr more so longe fro me. As to my thynkynge, these days thre, That ȝe absente have ben away, Be more lengere in ther degré Than alle the space of xij. ȝere day. _Jhesus._ Now, ffor to plese my modyr mylde, I xal ȝow folwe with obedyence; I am ȝour sone and subjecte childe, And owe to do ȝow hyȝ reverence. Home with ȝow I wyl go hens:— Of ȝow, clerkys, my leve I take. Every childe xulde, with good dyligens; His modyr to plese, his owyn wyl to forsake. _Primus doctor._ O blyssyd Jhesu! with ȝow we wende, Of ȝow to have more informacion; fful blyssyd is ȝour modyr hende, Of whom ȝe toke ȝour incarnacion! We pray ȝow, Jhesu, of consolacion, At oure most nede of ȝow to have,— All that hath herd this consummacion Of this pagent, ȝour grace them save! _Amen!_ XXI. THE BAPTISM OF CHRIST.