Page:Ludus Coventriae (1841).djvu/137

 Maria. Alas! gode spowse, why sey ȝe thus? Alas! dere hosbund, amende ȝour mod. It is no man, but swete Jhesus, He wylle be clad in flesche and blood, And of ȝour wyff be born. Sephor, ffor sothe, the aungel, thus seyd he, That Goddys sone in Trynité, ffor mannys sake a man wolde be, To save that is forlorn.

Joseph. An aungel! allas, alas! fy for schame! ȝe syn now in that ȝe to say, To puttyn an aungel in so gret blame. Alas! alas! let be, do way. It was sum boy began this game, That clothyd was clene and gay; And ȝe ȝeve hym now an aungele name,— Alas! alas and welaway! That evyr this game betydde. A! dame, what thought haddyst thou? Here may alle men this proverbe trow, That many a man doth bete the bow, Another man hath the brydde.

Maria. A! gracyous God, in hefne trone, Comforte my spowse in this hard cas; Mercyful God amend his mone, As I dede nevyr to gret trespas.

Joseph. Lo! lo! seres, what told I ȝow, That it was not for my prow, A wyff to take me to; An that is wel sene now, ffor Mary I make god avow, Is grett with childe, lo!