examenynge althynges, dyd aske hym how many yeres it was sythe that howsse was so sodenly broght thyther.  Many yeres agone saythe he.  Yet, sayde I, the wallys doo nat apere so old.  He dyd nat denay it.  No mor thes woden || B v.|| pyleres.  He cowld nat denay but that they were sette there nat longe agoo, and also the mater dyd playnly testyfye ye same.  Afterward, sayd I, thys roffe which is all of rede dothe apere nat to be very olde, & he granted also, thes greete bemes which lye ouerthwerte, and these rafteres that hold vpe that howsse were nat sett longe agone.  He affyrmyd my saynge.  Well sayd I seynge that no parte of the housse is lefte but all is new, how can yow say that this was the house whiche was broght hyther so longe agoo. Me. I pray you how dyd the howskeper, auoyde hymselffe frome your argumet. Ogy. By & by he dyd shew to vs the mater by the skyne of a bayre whiche had hangyd be the rafteres a longe season, and dyd almost moke the symplenes of owre wyttes that could nat perceyue so manyfeste an argumete we beynge || perswadyd by this argument, askid pardon of our ignorance, and callid into our communycacyon the heuely mylke of our lady. Me. O how like to the sone is the mother, for he hath left to vs so moche blood here in erthe, & she so moche mylke, that a man wyl skarysly beleue a woman to haue so moche mylke of one chylde, in case the chyld shuld sukke none at all. Ogy. Thay saye the same of the holy crosse, whiche is shewyd in so many places bothe openly, and pryuately, that if ye fragmentes were gathered apon one heape, they wold apere to be a iuste fraghte for a shipe, and yet Christe dyd bere all his crosse hymselffe. Me. But do nat you maruayll at this? Ogy. It may welbe a strage thynge, but no maruayle, seynge that the lord whiche dothe encreasse this at hys pleasure, is almyghty. Me. It is very gently expownded, but I am || afrayd, that many of thes be faynyd for lukre. Ogy. I suppose that God wold nat suffre hymselffe to be deludyd of suche a fasshion. Mene. Yis, haue nat you sene that wha bothe the mother, the sone, the father, and the holy ghoste hathe be robbyd of thes sacrilegyous theues, that thay woldnat ones moue, or styre nother with bekke or crakke wherby thay myght fray away the theues.  So great is the gentles of God. Ogy. So it is, but here out me tale.  This mylke is kepyd apon the hye aultre, and in the myddys ther is Christe, with his mother apon hys ryght hand, for her honor sake, the mylke dothe represente the mother. Me. It may be sene than? Ogy. It is closyd in crystalle. Me. It is moyste tha? Ogy. What tell you me of moystenes, wha it was mylkyd more than a thowsand and fyue hunthrithe yere agone, it is so congelyd, that a ma wold || saye that it were chalke temperyd with the whyte of a egge. Me. Ye, but do thay sette it forthe bare? Ogy. No, lest so holy mylke shuld be defowlyd with the kyssynge