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 It is most sittyng to you this preyere to make, And I unworthy wyth yow preyen here schalle. Petrus. I take this upon me, Poule, for youre sake. Now, almythty God, that sittiste above cherubyn halle; In synge of thyn holy cros oure handis we make, Besekyng thy mercy may upon us falle, And why we ben thus met, yif it lyke, us lare. Johannes. A! holy brether, alle welcom ye are: Why ye be met here I schal you declare; ffor Mary, Goddys moder, by message is sent, That from this wrecchid world to blysse sche schal fare, And at here deying sche desyryth to have us present. Petrus. A! brother John, we may syhyn and care, Xif it displese not God for these tydyngis ment. Paulus. fforsothe so we may, Peter, hevyin evermore, That oure moder and oure comfort schuld ben us absent. But nevertheles the wyl of God fulfyllid mot be. Johannes. That is wel seyd, Poule, but herof bewar ye, That non of you for here deth schewe hevy speche, ffor anon to the Jewys it schuld than notyd be, That we were ferd of deth, and that is ageyn that we teche; ffor we seyn alle tho belevyn in the hol Trynyté, They schul ever leve and nouth deye, this truly we preche; And yif we make hevynesse for here, than wyl it seyd be, Lo! youe prechouris to deye they fere hem ful meche; And therfore in God now beth glad everychon! Petrus. We schal don as ye sey us, holy brother John: Now we beseke you, let us se oure moder Marie. Johannes. Now, in Goddys name, to here than alle let us gon; Sche wyl ben ful glad to se this holy companye. Petrus. Heyl! moder and maydyn, so was never non, But only the most blissid treulye. Paulus. Heyl! incomparabil quen Goddis holy tron! Of you spreng salvacyon and alle oure glorye; Heyl mene for mankynde and mendere of mys!