Com on, Joseph, with offrynge thin,
And brynge up thin, as we have oure,
Thou taryst ryth longe behynde certeyn;
Why comyst not forth to Goddys toure?
Com on, man, for shame.
Joseph. Com ȝa, ȝa, God help, fulle fayn I wolde,
But I am so agyd and so olde,
That bothe myn leggys gyn to folde,
I am ny almost lame.
Episcopus. A! mercy Lord, I kan no sygne aspy,