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 Therfor be sad and ȝe may so, And wynnyth alle the mydwyvis good diligens. Maria. Husbond, I pray ȝow dysplese ȝow nowth, Thow that I lawghe and gret joye have; Here is the chylde this werde hath wrought, Born now of me, that alle thynge xal save. Joseph. I aske ȝow grace, for I dyde rave! O gracyous childe, I aske mercy! As thou art Lord and I but knave, fforȝeve me now my gret foly!

Alas! mydwyvis, what have I seyd? I pray ȝow come to us more nere; ffor here I fynde my wyff a mayd, And in here arme a chylde hath here. Bothe mayd and modyr sche is in ffere, That God wole have may nevyr more fayle; Modyr on erthe was nevyr non cler, Withowth sche had in byrthe travayle. ȝelomy. In byrth travayle muste sche nedys have, Or ellys no chylde of here is born. Joseph. I pray ȝow, dame, and ȝe vowchesave, Com se the chylde my wyff beforn. Salome. Grete God be in this place! Swete systyr, how fare ȝe? Maria. I thank the fadyr of his hyȝ grace, His owyn son and my chylde here ȝe may se. ȝelomye. Alle heyl, Mary, and ryght good morn! Who was mydwyfe of this ffayr chylde? Maria. He that nothynge wyl have forlorne Sent me this babe, and I mayde mylde. ȝelomye. With honde lete me now towche and fele, Yf ȝe have nede of medycyne; I xal ȝow comforte and helpe ryght wele, As other women, yf ȝe have pyne.