| Share page |
|
— 201 — |
||
|
modern ears; and it would puzzle a practised Shakesperian reader, even a well-skilled relation of my own in this art, to give one of these ancient dramas with any effect.—Mary says,
A my swete husbond, wolde ye telle to me What tre is yon standynge upon yon hylle ?
Joseph. Forsoothe, Mary, it is clepyd a chery tre,
In tyme of yer ye myght fede yow yon yd fylle.
Maria. Turne ageyn, husbond, and beholde yon tre, How yt it blomyght now so swetly.
Joseph. Cum on, Mary, yt we worn at yon cyte,
Or ellys we may be blamyd I telle yow lythly.
Maria. Now, my spouse, I pray yow to be hold How ye cheryes growyn upon yon tre, For to have yr of ryght fayn I wold, And it plesyd yow to labor so mech for me.
Joseph. Yor desyr to fulfylle I shall assay sekyrly,
Ow to plucke yow of these cherries it is a werk wylde,
For ye tre is so hyg' it wol not be lyghtly,
Yr for lete hy pluk yow cheryes begatt yow wt childe.
Maria. Now, good Lord, I pray the, graunt me yis boun, To have of yese cheries, and it be yor wylle, Now I thank it God, yis tre bowyth to me down, I may now gadery anowe and etyn my fylle.
Joseph. Ow, I know weyl I have offendyd my God i trinyte, Spekyn to my spowse these unkynde wordys. For now I beleve wel it may non other be, But yt my spowse beryght ye kyngys son of blys, He help us now at oure nede!"
In the French mystery, or Pastoral, as it is called, of the Naissance, on the first appearance of Joseph and Mary, in |
||