SUster myn kummet nü myt mir
Eynen hubschen dantz dreden ich dyr
Dü wolltest dick vijl dantzen
Vnd dragen dar zü schon rantzen(1)
Welich goit an dyr myßehagen
Syn brůde pflegen sye nyt tzů dragen
Sünder myt dogenden sych zü kleyden
Vnd yr hertz ym alltzijt zu bereyden.
My sister, come with me now,
I'll tread a pretty dance for you.
You always wanted to dance
and also wear a beautiful ranse,(1)
which displeases God.
His brides(2) do not usually wear [such],
but rather dress themselves with virtues
and always preparing your heart for him.
ACh wye gar byn ich betrogen
Das ich myn beßerunge han vortzogen.
Myn orden důichte mych zu hart
Vnd gedacht nyt off diße leste fart
Wer ich eyn kloster iůnckfrauwe worden
Da man gotlych helt den orden
So mocht ich nu gnade erwerben
Vnd auch des da bas yetzünt gesterben.
Alas, how I am totally deceived,
having postponed my improvement,
and regarded my [monastic] order as too strict,
and not thought about this last journey.
Had I become a monastery-maiden,
where the [rules of the] order were godly observed,
then I could now gain grace,
and also die the better now.
ranse . . .: frilly veil.
The next page about the citizeness
tells all that's worth knowing about ransen.
Nuns are married to Gud, as this story from the real life will teach us:
A man suffered a serious heart attack and had bypass surgery. He awakened to find himself in the care of nuns at a Catholic hospital.
As he was recovering, a nun asked how he was going to pay the bill.
He replied, in a raspy voice, "No health insurance." The nun asked if he had money in the bank. He replied, "No money in the bank."
The nun asked, "Do you have a relative who could help you?"
He said, "Just a spinster sister, who is a nun."
The nun, slightly perturbed, said, "Nuns are not spinsters! Nuns are married to God."
The patient replied, "Then send the bill to my brother-in-law."