I xal ȝow gyde in this countré,
Where that it plesyth ȝow best.
Maria. Now, jentyl John, my sonys derlyng!
To Goddys temple thou me brynge,
That I may prey God with sore wepynge,
And mornynge that is prest!
Johannes. Alle ȝour desyre xal be wrought,
With herty wylle I werke ȝour thought;
Now, blyssyd mayde, taryeth nowth,
In the temple that ȝe ware!