Mone be nyght nor sunne be day
Shone nevyr so clere in ther lyghtnesse.
ȝelomye. Into this hous dare I not gon,
The woundyrffulle lyght doth me affray.
Joseph. Than wyl myself gon in alon,
And chere my wyff, if that I may;
Alle heyl, maydon and wyff, I say!
How dost thou fare? telle me thi chere!
The for to comforte in gesyne this day,
Tweyn gode mydwyvis I have brought here.