Alas! alas! what xal I do?
My Lord awey is fro me take;
A, woful wrecche! whedyr xal I go?
My joye is gon owth of this lake.
Jhesus. Woman, suche mornynge why dost thou make?
Why is thi chere so hevy and badde?
Why dost thou sythe so sore and qwake?
Why dost thou wepe so sore and sadde?
Maria Magdalene. A grettyr cawse had nevyr woman,
ffor to wepe bothe nyth and day,