Withinne a whyle, or ȝe hens wende.
With myn hand this bred I blys,
And breke it here, as ȝe do se;
I ȝeve ȝow parte also of this,
This bred to ete and blythe to be.
Hic subito discedat Christus ab oculis eorum.
A, mercy, God! what was oure happe?
Was not oure hert with love brennynge,
Whan Cryst oure mayster so nere oure lappe
Dede sitt and speke suche suete talkynge?