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 Of herborwe ffor spowse and me I ȝow pray, ffor trewly this woman is fful weré, And fayn at reste, sere, wold she be; We wolde ffulffylle the byddynge of oure emperoure, ffor to pay trybute, as ryght is oure, And to kepe oureselfe ffrom dolowre, We are come to this cyté. Cives. Sere, ostage in this towne know I non, Thin wyff and thou in for to slepe; This ceté is besett with pepyl every won, And ȝett thei ly withowte fful every strete.

Withinne no walle, man, comyst thou nowth, Be thou onys withinne the cyté gate; On ethys in the strete a place may be sowth, Theron to reste, withowte debate. Joseph. Nay, sere, debate that wyl I nowth; Alle suche thyngys passyn my powere: But ȝitt my care and alle my thought Is for Mary, my derlynge dere.

A! swete wyff, what xal we do? Wher xal we logge this nyght? Onto the ffadyr of heffne pray we so, Us to kepe ffrom every wykkyd whyt. Cives. Good man, o word I wyl the sey, If thou wylt do by the counsel of me; ȝondyr is an hous of haras that stant be the wey, Amonge the bestys herboryd may ȝe be. Maria. Now the fadyr of hefne he mut ȝow ȝelde! His sone in my wombe forsothe he is; He kepe the and thi good be fryth and ffelde! Go we hens, husbond, for now tyme it is. But herk now, good husbond, a newe relacyon, Whiche in myself I know ryght welle;