Whiche is my joye and blys.
I was nevyr lyghtere i-wys,
To walke nevyr here beforn;
ffor a mery tyme now is,
Whan God my lord is born.
Anna Prophetessa. Al heyl, Symeon! what tydynges with ȝow?
Why make ȝe al this myrth now?
Telle me whedyr ȝe fare.
Symeon. Anne prophetes, and ȝe wyst whou,
So xulde ȝe, I make avow,