O, myn hyest ffadyr, in ȝour trone,
It is worthy ȝour son, now my son, have a prerogatyff.
I cannot telle what joy, what blysse,
Now I fele in my body!
Aungel Gabryel, I thank ȝow for thys,
Most mekely recomende me to my faderes mercy.
To have be the modyr of God fful lytyl wend I,—
Now myn cosyn Elyȝabeth ffayn wold I se,
How sche hath conseyvid as ȝe dede specyfy,
Now blyssyd be the hyȝ Trynyté.