Joachym. Qwhat art thou, in Goddys name, that makyst me adrad?

It is as lyth abowt me as al the werd were fere.

Angelus. I am an aungel of God come to make the glad!

God is plesyd with thin helmes, and hath herd thi prayere;

He seyth thi shame, thi repreff, and thi terys cler:

God is a vengere of synne, and not nature doth lothe!

Whos wombe that he sparyth and makyth barreyn her,

He doth to shewe his myth and his mercy bothe!

Thu seest that Sara was nynty ȝer bareyn,

Sche had a sun Ysaac, to whom God ȝaff his blyssynge;