5 10 fol. 106v 15 20 25 30 35 40 45 50 55 60 fol. 107r    65 70 75 80 85 90 95

Lamentacion Beati Mariae In a chyrch as I gan knelle Thys endres dey for to here messe, I saw a syght me lykyd welle; I schall you tell how that it was. I saw a Pyté in a place: Oure Lady and hyr sone in fere; Wele oft sche syghed and seyd, “Alas, For now lyes dede my dere son dere.” Than seyd Oure Lady bothe meke and myld To all women: “Behold and se, And make ye no mone for your chyld, Of Godys sond if it dede be. For if ye do, ye be not wyse To se my sone as he lyghet here. Now he is dede — lo, were he lyes. For thi sone dyghd my dere son dere. “All mankynd behold and se: My sone is nayled throught fote and hond. With scharpe thornys and grete envye, Jues put up hys hede with poyntys strong. Hys herte was persyd with a spere so long The blod busschyd out as ye may se here.” Sche seyd, “Alas, I lyfe to long — Why ne had I dyghed with my der son dere? “All women that ever be bore And have bore chylder, behold and se How my son lyes me before On my skyrte, take fro the rode tre. When ye danse your chylder on your kne, Ye clyppe and kyse with mery chere. Behold my sone and behold me: For thy son dyghed my dere son dere. “O woman, now wele is thee. Thy chyldys cape thou doyst upon; Thou pykys hys erys and behold hys ble; Thow wote not wele when thou hast don. Bot ever, alas, I make my mone To se my sone as he lyght here. Oute of hys hede I pyke many a thorn — For thi son dyed my dere son dere. “Woman, a chaplyte ichos thou haste Thy chyld to were to thy lykyng. Thou pynyst hyr, and grete joy thou makyst, And I sytte here full sore wepyng — My sone hath a chaplyte of thornes prikyng. I clype hym and kys with carefull chere; Thou syttys syngyng, and I wepyng. For thi son dyghed my dere sone dere. “Woman, when thu lyst to pley, Thou hast thi chyld on thi kne dansyng. Thou beholdys hys fase and hys aray Unto thi eye full wele lykyng. The longyst fynger of my hond beyng Throught my sonys fete I may thyrst it here, And take it oute full sore wepyng. For thi son dyghed my dere sone dere. “Woman, loke on me agene. Thy chyld lyes sowkyng on thi pappys. Therof me thynke it is grete harme In my sonys brest to se grete gappys, And onne hys hede and body so many slapys. With blody lyppys I kys hym here. Full herd,” sche seyd, “now be myn happys — Why ne had I dyghed with my dere sone dere? “Woman, thy chyld is hole and sownd, And myn lyeht dede upon my kne. Thyn is lowse, and myn is bownd, And thyn hath lyfe, and dede is he. And all is for the luffe of thee, For my sone trespassyd never here. Woman, com and wepe with me; For thy sone dyghed my dere son dere. “Wepe with me, both man and wyffe; My sone is yours and lufys you wele. And thyn were dede and hade no lyfe, Thou cowth well wepe at every mele; For my son thou wepys never a dele. Thoff thou lufe thyn, myn hath no pere. Thynke my son gafe thee lyfe and hele; For thi sone dyghed my dere sone dere. “Woman, now thou canste thi wyte. Thou seyst thi chyld whether it be seke or dede. Wepe thou for myn and not for it, And thou schall have mych to thy mede. Thynke my sone wyll agayn bled Rather than thou dampnyd were. To this matyr thou take gode hede; For thy son dyghed my dere son dere. “Farewele, women, I may no more Rehers youre chylder and your godnys. I have wepyd for my son so sore That I forgete all joy and blys. I praye you all to thynke on this: My son is your and lufys you wele. Thynke on hys passyon and hys blys; For thy son dyghed my dere sone dere.” AMEN QUOD RATHE

Lament of the Blessed Mary; (see note) began to kneel The other day (recently); (see note) Pietà; (see note) together beloved son at a great cost (see note) lament If it be dead by God’s command lies died malice pierced blood gushed live too long (see note) born children taken from the cross dandle clasp child’s cap you place upon [him] clean out his ears; face; (see note) know not well when you are done lies (see note) garland chosen For thy child to wear Thou pin here; (t-note) clasp; woeful wish (t-note) his face and dress longest finger that is on my hand thrust suckling on your breasts (see note) gaps (wounds) slaps (blows) fortune; (t-note) lies loose (free) love never violated the law yours; loves If could; meal never in the least Though; peer (equal) health i.e., know wisdom see; sick much for your reward bleed damned matter no longer    Describe your children; good luck; (see note) yours; loves; (see note) (see note)