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 Abowte this awtere to kepe my fame, Vij. tymes I have gon rownd abowte; If I be wurthy to suffyr blame, O ryghtful God, my synne shewe owughte.

Episcopus. Joseph, with hert thank God thi Lorde, Whos heyȝ mercy doth the excuse; ffor thi purgacion we xal recorde, With hyre of synne thou dedyst never muse. But, Mary, thiself mayst not refuse; Alle grett with chylde we se the stonde, What mystyr man dede the mysuse, Why hast thou synnyd ageyn thin husbonde?

Maria. I trespacyd nevyr with erthely wyght; Therof I hope, thorowe Goddys sonde, Here to be purgyd before ȝour syght, ffrom alle synne clene, lyke as myn husbonde. Take me the botel out of ȝour honde, Here xal I drynke beforn ȝour face; Abowth this awtere than xal I fonde, Vij. tymes to go, by Godys grace.

Primus doctor legis. Se this bolde bysmare wolde presume, Ageyn God to preve his myght! Thow Goddys vengeauns hyre xuld consume, Sche wyl not telle hyre fals delyght. Thou art with chylde, we se in syght, To us thi wombe the doth accuse. Ther was nevyr woman ȝitt in suche plyght, That ffrom mankynde hyre kowde excuse.

Primus detractor. In ffeyth I suppose that this woman slepte Withowtyn alle coverte, whylle that it dede snowe, And a flake therof into hyre mowthe crepte, And therof the chylde in hyre wombe doth growe.