Ogy. Ye trewly there be some so gyuê to our blessyd lady, that whan thay apere to put vpe thayr handes to offre, with a pure cõusyance, thay stayl yt whiche other men hathe gyuen.
Me. Than lett no man be there, wyll nat oure Lady shote her thonderbowlte at suche.
Ogy. Wherfor shuld our lady rather doo so, than God hymselffe, whom thay be nat affrayd to pluke owt hys robes, & breake ye churche walles therfore.
Mene. I am in a great doubt whether I shuld, rather maruayle apon thayre wykyd boldnes, or Goddys great gêtlenes and longe sufferynge.
Ogy. Apõ the Northe parte ther is a certayne gaate, but lest that you should make a lye, it is nat of the churche, but of the pale that compassithe a bowte the churche yarde, and that hathe a lytle wykyt, suche as be in great mennes gaates, that who so euer wyll entre, must fyrst putin hys legge, nat withowt some ioperdie, and than bowe downe hys hedde.
Me. It is ioperdie to goo thorow suche a dore, to a mannes enemye.
Ogy. So it is, the sexten dyd tell me that ther was ones a knyght whiche fleeynge hys enemye, than aprochynge, dyd ride thorow ye wykyte, and than the wretche dispayrynge in hym selffe, apon a soden motion, dyd commend hymselffe to ye blessyd virgyne, whiche was than at hand. But now commythe the myrakle. By and by that knyght was all in the churche yarde, and hys aduersary was ragynge at the dore wowte.
Me. And dyd he tell you so maruylous a myrakle for a trewthe?
Ogy. No dowte.
Me. But I suppose that he could nat so lyghtely doo that to you so a great a philosopher.