What tyme ne when I can not say,
For it is gone fulle many a day
Syn dede began to calle.

Ther is no warke that I may wyrk,
Bot oneths cralle I to the kyrk,
To I com home I am so irk

That farther may I noght;

Bot settys me downe and grankys and gronys,
And lyges and restys my wery bonys,
And alle nyght after grankes and groonys,
On slepe tylle I be broght.

Bot never the les, the sothe to say,
If I may nather by nyght ne day
For age nather styr ne play,

Nor make no chere,

Yit if I be never so old,

I myn fulle welle that prophetes told,
That now ar dede and layde fulle cold,
Sythen gone many a yere ;
Thay sayde that God, fulle of myght,
Shuld send his son from heven bright,
In a madyn for to light,

Commen of David kyn;
Flesh and blood on hyr to take,
And becom man for oure sake,
Our redempcyon for to make,

That slayn were thrugh syn.

Bot, Lord, that us thy grace has hight,
Send me thy sond, both day and nyght,
And graunt me grace of lyfes light,
And let me never de,

To thou sich grace to me send

That I may handylle hym in my hend,
That shall come oure mys to amend

And se hym with

myn ee.

Primus Angelus. Thou, Symeon, drede the noght, My Lord, that thou has long besoght, For thou has rightwys beyn;

Thyn askyng has he grauntyd the,

With outen dede on lyfe to be

To thou thy Cryst have seyn.

Secundus Angelus. Than Symeon, harkyn a space, I bryng the tythynges of solace,

For-thy, ryse up and gang To the temple, thou shalle fynd thore

Godes son the before,

That thou has yernyd lang.

Symeon. Lovyd be my Lord in wylle and thoght, That his servant forgettes noght, When that he seys tyme;

Welle is me that I shalle dre

Tylle I have sene hym with myn ee
And no longer hyne.

Lovyd be my Lord in heven,
That thus has by his angelle steven
Warnyd me of his commyng;

Therfor wille I with intent

Put on me my vestment,

In worship of that kyng.

He shalbe welcom unto me,

That Lord shalle make us alle fre,
Kyng of alle man kyn ;

For with his blood he shalle us boroo
Both from catyfdam and from soroo,
That was slayn thrugh syn.

Tunc pulsabunt.

A, dere God! what may this be?
Oure bellys ryng so solemply,
For whom soever it is,

Now certes, I can not understand,
Bot if my Lord God alleweldand

Be commen, that alle shalle

wyse;

This noyse lyghtyns fulle welle myn hart,
Shalle I never rest, and I have quart,
Or I com ther anone;

Now welle were I an it so were,
For sich noyse hard I never ere,

Oure bellys ryng by thare oone.
Josephus. Mary, it begynnys to pas,
Fourty dayes syn that thou was

Delyvered of thy son;
To the temple I red we draw,
To clens the, and fulfylle the law,
As oure elders were won.

Therfor, Mary, madyn heynd,
Take thi chyld and let us weynd
The tempylle untylle;

And we shalle with us bryng

Thise turtyls two to oure offryng,

The law we wille fulfylle.

Maria. Joseph, that wylle I fulle welle,
That the law every deylle

Be fulfyllyd in me;

Lord, that alle myghtes may,

Gif us grace to do this day

That it be pleassyng to the.

Angeli cantant; Simeon.....

Primus Angelus. Thou, Symeon, rightwys and

trew,

Thou has desyred both old and new,

To have a syght of Chryst Jesu,
As prophecy has told;

Oft has thou prayed to have a sight
Of hym that in a madyn light,

Here is that chyld of mekylle myght,

Now has thou that thou wold.

Secundus Angelus. Thou has desyryd it most of alle*

* The end of this Mystery, and the commencement of the following, are wanting, a leaf or more of the manuscript being lost.

PAGINA DOCTORUM.

That a madyn a barn shuld bere
And his name thus can thay telle,
Fro the tyme that he born were
He shalbe callyd Emanuelle,
Counselloure, and God of strengthe,
And wonderfulle also

Shalle he be callyd, of brede and lengthe

As far as any man may go.

Tercius Magister. Masters, youre resons ar right

good,

And wonderfulle to neven,

Yit fynde I more by Abacuk;

Syrs, lysten a whyle unto my steven.

Oure baylle, he says, shalle turn to boytt,

Her afterward som day;

A wande shalle spryng fro Jessy roytt,
The certan sothe thus can he say.

And of that wande shalle spryng a floure,
That shalle spryng up fulle hight,
Ther of shalle com fulle swete odowre,

And therapon shalle rest and lyght
The Holy Gost, fulle mych of myght,

The Goost of wysdom and of wyt

Shalle beyld his nest, with mekylle right,

And in it brede and sytt.

Primus Magister. Bot when trew ye that this prophecy

Shalbe fulfyllyd in dede?

That here is told so openly,

As we in scrypture rede.

Secundus Magister. A greatt mervelle for sothe it is,

To us to here of sich mastry,

A madyn to bere a chyld, iwys,

Without man's seyde, that were ferly.

Tercius Magister. The Holy Gost shalle in hyr

lyght

And kepe hir madyn hede fulle clene,
Whoso may byde to se that sight
Thay ther not drede I wene.

Primus Magister. Of alle thise prophetes wyse of

lore

That knew the prophecy, more and les,

Was none that told the tyme before,
When he shuld com to by us peasse.

Secundus Magister. Wheder he be commen or not No knowlege have we in certayn,

Bot he shalle com, that dowt we not,

Fulle prophetys have prechyd it fulle playn.
Tercius Magister. Mekylle I thynk that thise
prophetys

Ar holden to God, that is on hight,
That have knowyng of his behetys,
And for to telle of his mekylle myght.
Tunc venit Jesus.

Jesus. Masters, luf be with you lent,
And mensk be unto this meneze.

Primus Magister. Son, hens away I wold you went, For othere haft in hand have we.

Secundus Magister. Son, whosoever the hyder sent Thay were not wyse, thus telle I the

For we have othere tallys to tent

e;

Then now with barnes bowrdand to be.

Tercius Magister. Son thou lyst oght lere to lyf by Moyses lay,

Com heder, and thou shalle here the sawes that we

wylle say;

For in som mynde it may the bryng

To here our sawes red by rawes.

Jesus. To lere of you nedys me no thyng

For I knaw both youre dedys and sawes.

Primus Magister. Hark, yonder barn with his bowrdyng

He wenys he kens more then he knawys,

Nay, certes, son, thou art oure ying

By clergy yit to know oure lawes.

Jesus. I wote as welle as ye how that youre lawes was wroght.

Secundus Magister. Com sytt, soyn shalle we se, for certys so semys it noght.

Tercius Magister. It were wonder if any wyght