Graunt ȝow good grace suche rest to take,
That onto hym xulde plese most best,
As he this worlde of nought dyd make!
Martha. A! gracyous Lord, had ȝe ben here,
My brother Lazarus this tyme had lyvyd;
But iiij. days gon upon a bere
We dede hym berye whan he was ded.
ȝitt now I knowe withowtyn drede,
What thynge of God that thou do crave,
Thou xalt spede of the hyȝ Godheede,