_Sir J._ An other myracle eke I shall you say, Of a woman, whiche that many a day Had been wedded, and in all that season She had no chylde, nother doughter nor son; 560 Wherfore to Saynt Modwin[281] she went on pilgrimage, And offered there a lyve pyg, as is the usage Of the wyves that in London dwell; And through the vertue therof, truly to tell, Within a moneth after, ryght shortly, 565 She was delyvered of a chylde as moche as I. How say you, is not this myracle wonderous? _Johan._ Yes, in good soth, syr, it is marvelous; But surely, after myn opynyon, That chylde was nother doughter nor son. 570 For certaynly, and I be not begylde, She was delyvered of a knave chylde. _Tyb._ Peas, I say, for Goddis passyon, Thou lettest Syr Johan's communication. _Sir J._ The thyrde myracle also is this: 575 I knewe another woman eke y-wys, Whiche was wedded, & within v. monthis after She was delyvered of a fayre doughter, As well formed in every membre & joynt, And as perfyte in every poynt 580 As though she had gone v monthis full to th' ende. Lo! here is v monthis of advantage. _Johan._ A wonderous myracle! so God me mende; I wolde eche wyfe that is bounde in maryage, And that is wedded here within this place, 585 Myght have as quicke spede in every suche case. _Tyb._ Forsoth, Syr Johan, yet for all that I have sene the day that pus, my cat, Hath had in a yere kytlyns eyghtene. _Johan._ Ye, Tyb, my wyfe, and that have I sene. 590 But howe say you, Syr Jhan, was it good, your pye? The dyvell the morsell that therof eate I. By the good lorde this is a pyteous warke-- But nowe I se well the olde proverbe is treu: The parysshe preest forgetteth that ever he was clarke! 595 But, Syr Jhan, doth not remembre you How I was your clerke, & holpe you masse to syng, And hylde the basyn alway at the offryng? B iv He never had halfe so good a clarke as I! But, notwithstandyng all this, nowe our pye 600 Is eaten up, there is not lefte a byt, And you two together there do syt, Eatynge and drynkynge at your owne desyre, And I am Johan Johan, whiche must stande by the fyre Chafyng the wax, and dare none other wyse do. 605 _Syr J._ And shall we alway syt here styll, we two? That were to mych. _Tyb._ Then ryse we out of this place. _Syr J._ And kys me than in the stede of grace; And farewell leman and my love so dere.