Pluk up ȝour herte with myght and mayn,
And chere ȝoursylf with alle ȝour wylle.
Laȝarus. Ageyn my syknes ther is non ese,
But Jhesu Cryst, my maystyr dere,
If that he wyst of my dyssese,
Ryght sone I trust he wolde ben here.
Quartus consolator. I xal go to hym withoutyn dwere,
And of ȝour syknes telle hym serteyne;
Loke that ȝe be of ryght good chere,
Whylle that I go and com ageyn.