Page:Ludus Coventriae (1841).djvu/244

 Laȝarus. fforsothe, dere systeryn, I may not slepe, My syknes so sore dothe evyr encrese; Of me I pray ȝow take ryght good kepe, Tyll that my peyne begynne relese. Martha. God graunt grace that it may sese, Of syknes God make ȝow sownde; Or ellys oure joy wylle sone dyscres, In so grett peynes if ȝe ly bownde.

Magdalyn. A! brothir, brothir, lyfte up ȝoure herte, ȝour hevy cher doth us grevaunce; If deth from us ȝow xulde departe, Than were we brought in comberaunce. ȝe be oure brothyr syb of alyaunce, If ȝe wore deed, than had we none; ȝe do us brynge in distemperaunce, Whan ȝe us telle ȝe xal hens gone.

Primus consolator. Dame Martha and Magdalyne, How faryth ȝour brothir? lete us hym se. Martha. He is ryght seke and hath grett pyne, I am aferde deed he xal be. Magdalyn. A man may have ryght grett peté, The fervent hete of hym to fele. Secundus consolator. Take ȝe no thought in no degré, I hope that he xal ffare fful wele.

Martha. He may nat leve, his colowre doth chaunge, Come to his bed, ȝe xal hym se. Magdalyn. Iff he longe leve, it wyl be straunge, But as God wole, so mut it be; Chere hym, gode frendys, ffor charyté, Comforte of hym we kan non gete. Alas! alas! what eylight me, Myne herte for wo is wundyr grete.