Oure trybute hym to bere, ffolk must forth ichon,
It is cryed in every bourgh and cety be name;
I that am a pore tymbre wryth, born of the blood of Davyd,
The emperores comawndement I must holde with,
And ellys I were to blame.
Now, my wyff Mary, what sey ȝe to this?
For sekyr, nedys I must fforth wende
Onto the cyté of Bedleem, ffer hens i-wys;—
Thus to labore I must my body bende.
Maria. Myn husbond and my spowse, with ȝow wyl I wende,