Judas. What then, wene ye that I it am ?
Jesus. Thou says sothe, thou berys the bJamr ;
Ichon of you shalle this nyght
For sake me, and fayn he myght.
CONS.MaACIO ET C\PC{r, \^l
Johannes. Nay certes, God forbeyd
That ever shuld we do that deyd !
Petrus. If alle, master, forsake the,
Shalle I never fro the fle.
Jesus. Peter, thou shalle thryse apon a thraw
Forsake me or the cok craw ;
Take up this clethe and let us go.
For we have othere thynges at do.
Hie lavet pedes discipulorum.
Sit alle downe, and here and sees,
For I shalle weshe youre feet on knees.
Et mittens aquam in pelvim venit ad Petrum.
Petrus. Lord, shuld thou weshe feytt myne ?
Thou art my Lord, and 1 thy hyne.
Jesus. Wliy I do it thou wote not yit ;
Peter, herafter shalle thou wytt.
Petrus. Nay, master, I the heytt
Thou shalle never wesh my feytt.
Jesus. Bot I the wesh thou mon mys
Parte with me in heven's blys.
Petrus. Nay, Lord, or I that forgo,
Wesh heede, handes, and feytt also.
Jesus. Ye ar clene, bot not alle.
That shalle be sene when tyme shalle falle.
Who shalle be weshyn as I weyn
He thar not wesh his feytt clene ;
And for sothe clene ar ye,
Bot not alle as ye shuld be.
I shalle you say take good hede
Whi that I have done the dede ;
Ye calle me master, and lord by name,
Ye say fulle welle, for so I am ;
Sen I both lord and master to you wold knele
To wesh youre fete, so must ye wele.
Now wot ye what I have done,
Ensampylle have I gyflf'en you to j
Loke ye do so eft sone,
Ichon of you wesh other fete, lo.
For he that servand is,
For sothe, as I say you.
Not more then his Lord he is,
To whome he servyce owe.
Or that this mvght be gone
M 3
IgQ roWNKI-KV MVSTKRir.S.
Alone wille ye leyf me,
For in this nyght ilkon
Ye shalle iVo me fle ;
For when the hyrd is smeten
The shepe shalle fle away,
Be skaterd wyde and byten ;
The prophetes thus can say.
PeMts. Lord, if that I shuld dy
Forsake the shalle I noght.
Jesus. For soihe, Peter, I say to the
In so. great drede shalle thou be broght
That, or the cok have crowen twyse,
Thou shalle deny me tymes thre.
Petrtis. That shalle I never, lord, iwys ;
Ere shall I with the de.
Jesus. Now loke youi'e hartes be grefyd noght,
Kawther in drede ne in wo,
Bot trow in God, that you has wroght.
And in me trow ye also ;
In my fader house, for sothe,
Is many a wonnyng stede,
That rnen shalle have aftyr thare trowthe,
Soyn after thay be dede.
And here may I no longer leynd,
Bot I shalle go before,
And yit if I before you weynd.
For you to ordan thore,
I shalle com to you agane,
And take you to me,
That where so ever I am
Ye shalle be with me.
And I am way, and sothe-fastnes.
And lyfo that ever shalbe,
And to my fader comys none, iwys,
Bot oonly thorow me.
I wille not leyf you alle helples,
As men wiihoulten freynd,
As fadorles and moderles,
Thof alle I fro you weynd ;
I shalle com eft to you agayn,
This warld shalle me not se,
Bot ye shalle se me welle certan,
And lyfand shalle I be.
And ye slialle lyf in heven,
C<)NSI>IliA( lO KT ( AI'CK). 1 gg
Then shalle ye knaw, ivvys,
That I am in my fader even
And my fader in me is.
And I ill you, and ye in me,
And ilka man therto,
My commaundement tliat kepys trule
And after it wille do.
Now have ye hard what I have sayde,
I go and com agayn,
Therfor looke ye be payde
And also glad and fayn ;
For to my fader I weynd,
For more then I is he,
I let you wytt, as faythfulle freynd,
Or that it done be.
That ye may trow when it is done,
For certes, I may noght now
Many thynges so soyn
At this tyme speak with you.
For the prynce of this warld is commyn,
And no pow^ere has he in me,
Bot as that alle the warld within
May both here and se,
That I owe luf ^ly fader to,
Sen he me heder sent.
And alle thynges 1 do
After his commaundement.
Ryse ye up ilkon
And weynd we on oure way,
As fast as we may gone
To Olyvete to pray.
Peter, Jamj^s, and thou Johne,
Ryse up and folow me,
My tyme it commys anone,
Abyde stylle here ye thre.
Say youre prayers here by nethe.
That ye falle in no fowndyng,
My sawlle is hevy agans the deth
And the sore pynyng.
Tunc orahit, et dicet,
Fader let this great payn be stylle,
And pas away fro me ;
Bot not, fader, at my wylle
Bot thyn fulfylled be.
IgJ, T(^W.Vi:i.EV MYSTEniEs.
Fa rtvertet ad discipulos.
Symon, I say, slepys thou ?
Awake I red you alle ;
The feynd fulle fast salys you,
In \van-hope to gar you falle ;
Bot 1 slialle pray my fader so
That his niyght shalle not dere,
My goost is prest therto,
My flesh is seke for fere.
Et itentm orabit.
Fader, thi son 1 was.
Of the I aske this boyn,
If this payn may not pas,
Fader, thi wille be doyn.
Et revertet ad discipuhs.
Ye slepe, brether, ylt I see,
It is for sorow that ye do so ;
Ye have so lang wepyd for me
That ye ar masyd and lappyd in wo.
Et tercio orabit :
Dere fader, thou here my wylle.
This j)assyon thou put fro me away ;,
And if I must nedes go ther tylle
I shalle fulfille thi wylle today ;
Thei-for this bytter passyon
If I may not put by,
I am here redy at thi dome,
Thou comforte me that am drery.
Trinitas. My comforte, son, 1 shalle the telle.
Of thynges that felle by reson ;
As Lucyfer, for syn that felle,
Betrayd Eve with his fals treson,
Adam assent his wyfe unlylle.
The wekyd goost then askyd a bone
Which has hurt maukyude fulle ylle ;
This was the wordys he askyd soyn,
Alle tiiat ever of Adam com
Holly to hym to take.
With hym to dwelle withoutten dome.
In payn that never shalle slake.
To that a chyld myght be borne
Of a madyn, and she weinles,
As dene as that she was beforne,
tONSI'lRACIO KTCAPCIO. | g^
As puryd sylver or shynand glas ;
To tyme that childe to deth were dight,
And rasyd hym self apon the thryd day.
And steyen to heven thrughe his awne myght.
Who may do that hot God veray ?
Sen thou art man and nedes must dee,
And go to helle as othere done,
Bot that were wrong, withoutten lee,
That Godes son there shuld won
In payn with his under-lowte ;
Wytt ye welle, withoutten weyn.
When oone is borod alle shalle owtt.
And borod be from teyn.
Jesus. Slepe ye now and take youre rest,
My tyme is nere command ;
Awake a whyle for he is next
That me shalle gyf into synners' hand.
Pilatus. Peas I comaunde you, carles unkynde,
To stand as stylle as any stone,
In donyon depe he shalbe pynde,
That wille not sesse his tong anone ;
For I am governowre of the law,
My name it is Pilate,
I may lightly gar hang you or draw,
I stand in sich astate,
To do what so 1 wille.
And therfor peas I byd you alle,
And loke ye hold you stille,
And with no brodels bralle,
Tylle we have done oure dede ;
Who so makes nose or cry
His nek I shalle gar blede,
W^ith this I here in hy.
To this tratoure be take
That wold dystroy oure lawe ;
Judas, thou may it not for sake,
Take hede unto my sawe.
Thynk what thou has doyn.
That has thi master sold,
Performe thi bargan soyn.
Thou has thi money takyn and told.
Judas. Ordan ye' knyghtes to weynd with me
Richly arayd in rewylle and rowtt ;
And alle my covandys holden shalle be,
So I have felysliip me abowte.
^^(y TJWSKI.tV MS 8T1;KIF.-.
Pi/aius. Wlierby, Judas, shuld we liym knaw ?
If we shalle wysely wyrk, iwys,
For som of us hym never saw.
Judas. Lay hand on hyni that I shalle kys.
Pilatiis. Have done, sir knyghtys, and kythe youre
strengthe.
And wap you wightly in youre wede ;
Seke over'alle, both be brede and lengthe.
Spare ye not, spende and spede.
We have soglit hym les and more,
And feelyd ther we have fame ;
Malcus, "thou shalle weynd before,
And here with the a light lantarne.
Malms Miles. Sir, this jornay I undertake
With alle my myght and mayn,
If I shuld, for Mahown's sake
Here in this place be slayn,
Crist that prophett for to take,
We may be alle fulle fayn.
Oure weppyns redy loke ye make,
To bryng hym in mekylle grame
This nyght.
Go we now on oure way,
Oure mastres for to may,
Oure lantarnes take with us alsway,
And loke that thay be light.
Secundvs Miles. Sir Pilate, prynce pereles in palle.
Of alle men most myghty merked on mold,
We are ever more redy to com at thy calle,
And bow to thi bydyng as bachlers shuld.
Bot that prynce of the apostyls pupplyshed beforne.
Men calle liym Crist, commen of David kyn.
His lyfe fulle sone shalbe forlorne,
If we have hap hym forto wyn,
Have done ;
For as ever ete I breede,
Or I styr in this stede,
I wold strykc of his hede.
Lord, I aske that boyne.
Primus Miles. That boyn, lord, thou us bedf.
And on hvin wreke the sone we shalle,
For we have lade on hym good spede,
He shalle no more hym (iodes son calle.
We shalle marke hym truly his mede.
By Mahowne most, (lod of alio.
)NSl>ir{.\(:i()
187
Siche tlire knyghtes had lytylle drede
To byiide the dwille that we on calle
111 nede ;
Foi' if thay ware a thowsand mo,
That prophete and liis apostels also,
With thise two handes for to slo
Had I lytylle drede.
Pilatus. Now curtes kasers of Kamys kyn,
Most gentylle of Jure to me that I fynde,
My comforthe from care may ye sone wyn,
If ye happely may hent that unheynde ;
Bot go ye hens spedely and loke ye not spare,
My frenship, my fortherans, shalle ever with you be ;
And Mahowne that is myghtfulle he mensk you ever
mare,
Bryng ye safe and sovvnde with that brodel to me
In place ;
Where so ever ye weynd.
Ye knyghtes so heynde,
Sir Lucyfer the feynd
He lede you the trace.
Jesus. Ryse up, Peter, and go with me.
And folowe me withoutten stryfe ;
Judas wakys and slepys not he,
He commys to betray me here belyfe.
Wo be to hym that brynges up slander,
He were better his dethe to take,
Bot com forthe, Peter, and tary no langer,
Lo, where thay com that wille me take.
Judas. Rest welle, Master Jesiis, fre,
I pray the that thou wold kys me enys ;
I am commen to socoure the.
Thou art aspyed what so it menys.
Jesus. Judas, whi makys thou sich a brayde ?
Trowys thou not I knowe thi wille ?
With kyssyng has thou me betrayd,
That shalie thou rew som tyme ful ylle.
Wliome seke ye, syrs, by name ?
Secundus Miles. We seke Jesus of Nazerene.
Jesus. I kepe not my name to layn,
Lo, I am here the same ye mene ;
Bot whome seke ye with wepyns kene ?
Primus Miles. To say the sothe, and not to ly,
We seke Jesus of Nazarene.
Jesiis. I told you ere that it was I.
Igy TOWN-KI.LV .MV.S'n;KIE.S.
Malcus, Dar no man on hym lay liand ?
I shalle each hym, if I may,
A flateryng foylle has thou bene lang, \
Bot now is commen thyn endyng day. '
Petrus. I wold be dede within short space
Or I shuld se this sight ;
Go pleyn the to Sir Cayphas,
And byd hym do the right.
Malcus. Alas, the tyme that I was borne,
Or today com in this stede I
My right ere I have tbrlorne.
Help, alas, I blede to dede.
Jesus. Thou man, that menys thi hurt so sare.
Com heder, let me tin wonde se,
Take me thi ere that he of share.
In nomine Patris hole thou be.
Malcus. Now am I hole as I was ere,
My hurt is never the wars ;
Therfor, felows, drawe me nere,
The dwille hym spede that hym spars.
Jesus. Therfor, Peter, I say the this,
My wille it is that allc men witten.
Put up thi swerde and do no mys,
For he that smytes he shalbe smyten.
Ye knyghtes that be commen now here,
Thus assembly d in a rowte,
As I were thefe, or thefys fere,
With wepyns com ye me abowte ;
Me thynk, for sothe, ye do fuUe ylle,
Thus for to seke me in the nyght,
Bot what penance ye put me tylle
Ye let my felows go with grythe.
Secundus Miles. Lede hym furtlie fast by the gate,
Hangyd be he that sparis hym oght.
Primus Miles. How thynk the, sir Pilate,
Bi this brodelle tliat we liave broght ?
Pilatus. Is he the same and the self, I say.
That has wroght us this care ?
It has bene told sen many a day
Sayngys of hym fulle sare.
It was tylle us grcatt woghe
From dede to lyfe thou rasyd Lazare ;
Sen stalkyd stylly hi the see swoghe,
Both domb and defo thou salfvd from sare.
tON^I'lllAlIOET CAI'CIO. 181)
Thou passys Cesar bi dede,
Or sir Herode our kyiig.
Secundus Miles. Let denie liym fast to dede,
And let for no kyn thyng.
Primus Miles. Sen he has forfett agans oure lawe,
Let us deme hym in this stede.
Pilatus. I wille not assent unto youre saw,
I can ordan welle better red.
Malcus. Better red ? the d wille ; how so ?
Then were oure sorow lastand ay ;
And he thus furthe shuld go
He wold dystroy oure lay.
Wold ye alle assent to me,
This bargan shuld be strykyn anone,
By nyghtertaylle dede shuld he be,
And tille oure awnter stand ilkon.
Pilatus. Peasse, harlottes, the dwille yo spede !
Wold ye thus prevaly morder a man ?
Malcus. When every man has red his red,
Let se who better say can.
Pilatus. To Cayphas halle loke fast ye wyrk,
And thider right ye shalle hym lede,
He has the rewlle of holy kyrk,
Let hym deme hym whyk or dede ;
For he has wroght agans oure law,
For-thi most skylle can he ther on.
Secundus Miles. Sir, we assent unto youre saw ;
Com forth, bewshere, and lett us gone.
Malcus. Step furthe, in the wenyande,
Wenys thou ay to stand stylle ?
Nay, luskand loselle, lawes of the land
Shalle faylle bot we have oure wille ;
Out of my handes shalle thou not pas
For alle the craft thou can,
Tille thou com to sir Cayphas
Save the shalle no man.
EXPLICIT CAPCIO JESUS.
1<J0
JNCIPIT COLIPHIZATIO.
Primus Tortor. Do furthe, io I and trott on a pase ;
To Anna willc we go and sir Cayphas ;
Witt thou welle of them two gettes thou no grace,
Bot ever lastyng wo for trespas thou has
So mekille.
Thi mys is more
Then ever gettes thou grace fore,
Thou has bevn ay-whore
Fuile fals and fuUe fekylle.
Secundus Tortor. It is wonder to dre thus to be
gangyng,
We have had for the mekille hart stangyng ;
But at last shalle we be out of hart langyng,
Be thou have had two or three hetes worth a
liangyng,
No wonder.
Sich wyles can thou make,
Gai" the people farsake
Oure lawes, and thyne take.
Thus art thou broght in blonder.
Primus Tortor. Thou can not say agayn't, if thou
be trew,
Som men holdes the sant, and that shalle thou rew ;
Fare wordys can thou paynt,and lege lawes new.
Secundus Tortor. Now be ye ataynt, for we wille
perse w
On this mater.
Many wordes has thou saide,
Of whicli we ar not welle payde,
As good that thou had
Ilaldeu stille thy clater.
Primus Tortor. It is better syt stille then rise up
and falle,
Thou has long had thi wille and made many bralle,
At the last wold ihoii spille and for-do us alle.
If we dyd never ylle.
ikcundus Tortor. I irou noi, he shalle
COMIMII/ATIO.
Indure it ;
FoT if other men ruse hyni
We shalle accuse hym,
His self shalle not excuse hym,
To you I insure it,
With no legeance.
Primus Tortor. Fayn wald he wynk,
Els falys his countenance ; I say as I thynk.
Secundus Tortor. He has done us grevance, therfor
shalle he drynk ;
Have he mekille myschaunsce that has gart us swynke
In walkyng,
That unethe may I more.
Primus Tortor. Peas, man, we ar thore ;
I shalle walk in before
And telle of his talkyng.
Haille, syrs, as ye sytt, so worthi in wonys ;
Whi spyrd ye not yit how we have fame this onys ?
Secundus Tortor. Sir, we wold fayn witt alle wery
ar oure bonys
We liave had a fytt right ylle for the nonys,
So tarid.
Cayplms. Say, were ye oght adred ?
Were ye oght wrang led?
Or in any strate sted ?
Syrs, who was myscaryd ?
Anna. Say, were ye oght in dowte for fawte of
light
As ye watched ther owte ?
Primus Tortor. Sir, as I am true knyght.
Of my dame sen I sowked had I never sich a nyght,
Myn een were not lowked to geder right
Sen morowe ;
Bot yitt I thynk it welle sett.
Sen we with this tratoure met,
Sir, this is he that forfett
And done so mekille sorow.
CaypJms. Can ye hym oght apeche ? had he any
ferys ?
Sectindiis Tortor. He has bene for to preche fulle
many long yeris ;
And the people lie tetche a new law.
Primus 'Tortor. Syrs, heris.
As far as his witt reche, many oone he lerys ;
When we toko livm
191
]()<2 TOWNELKV M\STKIIIK.S.
We faunde liym in a yerde,
Bot when I drew out my swerde
His dyscypyls wex ferde,
And soyn thay forsoke hym.
Secnndtis Tortor. Sir, I hard hym say he cowthe
dystrow oure tenipylle so gay,
And sithon held a new on the third day.
Cayphas. How myght that be trew ? it toke more
aray ;
The masons I knewe that hewed it, I say,
So wyse ;
That hewed ilka stone.
Primus Tortor. A, good sir, lett hym oone ;
He lyes for the quetstone, .
I gyf hym the pryse.
Sectindus Tortor. The halt rynes, the bh'nd sees,
thrughe his fals lyes ;
Thus he gettes many tees of theyme he begyles.
Primus Tortor. He rases men that dees, thay soke
hym be myles,
And ever thrughe his soceres oure sabate day defyles
Ever more, sir.
Secundus Tortor. This is his use and his custom
To heylle the defe and the dome,
Where so ever he com,
I telle you before, sir.
Primus Tortor. Men calle hym a prophette and
Godes son of heven.
He wold fayn downe bryng oure lawes bi his steven.
Sectindus Tortor. Yit is ther anothere thyng that
I hard hym neven.
He settes not a fle wyng bi Sir Cesar fuUe even ;
He says thus,
Sir, the same is he
That excused with his sotelte
A woman in avowtre ;
Fulle wclle Juay ye trust us.
Primus Tortor. Sir Lazare can he rase that men
may persave,
When he liad lyne iiij dayes ded in his grave ;
Alle men hym prase, both master and knave,
Suche wychecraft he mase.
Secundus Tortor. If he abowte wave
Any langere
His warkys may we ban,
C ... '
l[)3
For he has turned many man
Sen the tynie he began,
And done us greatt hangere.
Primus Tortor. He wille not leyfe yit thof he be
culpabylle,
Men calle liym a prophete, a lord fnlle renabylle ;
Sir Cayphas, bi my wytt, he shuld be dampnabille,
Bot wold ye two, as ye sytt, make it ferme and sta-
bylle
To geder.
For ye two, as I traw.
May defende alle oure law,
That mayde us to you draw
And bryng this loselle heder.
Secundus Tortor, Sir, I can telle you before, as
myght I be maryd,
If he reyne any more oure lawes ar myscaryd.
Primus Tortor. Sir, opposed if he were he shuld
be fon waryd,
That is welle seyn thore wher he has long tarid
And walkyd ;
He is sowre lottyn,
Ther is somwhat forgottyn,
I shalle thryng out the rottyn
Be we have alle talkyd.
Cayphas. Now fare myght ye falle for youre talk-
For, certes, I my self shalle make examynyng.
Harstow, harlott, of all of care may thou syng,
How durst thou the calle aythere emperoure or kyng ?
I defy the.
What, the dwiile ! dost thou here ?
Thi dedes wille do the dere,
Com nar and rowne in myn eeyr
Or I shalle ascry the.
Ilia-hay lie was thou borne ! harke, says he oght agane?
Thou shalle onys or to morne to speke be fuUe fayne.
This is a great skorne and a fals trane,
Now wolf-hede and out- home on the be tane !
Vile fature !
Oone worde myght thou speke ethe,
Yit myght it do the som letht,
Et omnis qui tacet
Hie consentire videtur.
Speke on oone word right, in the dwyllys name !
N
104, TOWNEI.EV MYSTERIES.
Where was tin syre at bord wlien he met with thi
dame ?
What, iiawder bowted ne spurd, and a lord of name !
Speke on in a torde, the dwille gif the shame,
Sir Sybre !
Perde, if thou were a kyng
Yit myght thou be ridyng ;
Fy on the, fundlyng,
Thou lyfes bot bi brybre.
Lad, I am a prelate, a lord in degre,
Syttes in myn astate as thou may se,
Knyghtes on me to wate in dyverse degre,
I mvght thole the abate and knele on thi kne
In my present ;
As ever syng I mes,
Whoso kepes the lawe, I gess,
He gettes more by purches
Then bi his fre rent.
The dwille gif the shame that ever I knew the !
Nather blynde ne lame wille none persew the ;
Therfor I shalle the name that ever shalle rew the,
Kyng Copyn in oure game, thus shalle I indew the,
For a satur.
Say, dar thou not speke for ferde ?
I shrew hym the lerd,
Weme, the dwillys durt in thi berd,
Vyle fals tratur !
Though thi lyppus be stokyu yit myght thou say,
mom ;
Great wordes has thou spokyn then was thou not dom.
Be it hole worde or brokyn, com out with som.
Els on the shalle I be wrokyn or thi ded com
Alle outt.
Ayther has thou no wytt,
Or els ar thyne eres dytt.
Why bot herd thou not yit ?
Se, I cry and I showte.
Anna. A, sir, be not ylle payde though he not an-
swere,
I He is inwardly flayde, not right in his gere.
I Cayphas. No, bot the wordes he luis saide dothe
ni}' hart great dere.
Anna. Sir, yit may ye be dayde.
Cayphas. Nay, whils 1 lif nere.
Anna. Sir, amese you.
ruMPnizAcio.
Cayphas Now fowlle niyght hym befalle '
Anna. Sir, ye ar vexed at alle,'
And peraventur he shalle
Here after pleas you ,
We may bi oure law examyne hym fyrst.
Cayphas. Bot I gif hym a blaw my hart wille brist,
Anna. Abyde to ye his purpose knaw.
Cayphas. Nay, bot I shalle out thrist
Both his een on a raw.
Anna. Sir, ye wille not, I tryst,
Be so vengeabylle ;
Bot let me oppose hym.
Cayphas. I pray you, and sloes hym.
Aima. Sir, we may not lose hym
Bot we were dampnabille.
Cayphas. He has adyld his ded, a kyng he hym
calde ;
War, let me gyrd of his hede.
Anna. I hope not ye wold ;
Bot sir do my red youre worship to hald.
Cayphas. Shalle I never ete bred to that he be staid
In the stokys.
Anna. Sir, speke soft and stille.
Let us do as the law wille.
Cayphas. Nay, I myself shalle hym kylle,
And murder with knokys.
Anna. Syr, thynk ye that ye ar a man of holy kyrk,
Ye shuld be oure techer meknes to wyrk.
Cayphas. Yei, bot alle is out of har, and that shalle
he yrk.
Anna. Alle soft may men go far, oure lawes ar not
myrk
I weyn ;
Youre wordes ar bustus,
Et hoc nos volumus
Quod de jure possumus.
Ye wot what I meyn ;
It is best that we trete hym with farenes.
Cayphas. We, nay ?
Anna. And so myght we gett hym som word for to
say,
Cayphas. War, let me bett hym !
Anna. Syr, do away,
For if ye thus thrett hym he spekys not this day.
Bot herys,
n2
195
19(5
10\VN'1:LEY MYSTLKIKb.
Wold ye sesse and abyde,
1 fehuld take hym on syde
And inquere of his pryde,
How he oure tblke lerys.
Cayphas. He has revyd oure lang withe his fals
lyys,
And done mekylle wrang, Sir Caesar he defyes,
Thertbr shalle I hyni hang or 1 up ryse.
Anna. Sir, the hiw wille not he gang on nokyn
wyse
Undemyd ;
Bot fyrst wold I here
What he wold answere,
Bot he dyd any dere
VVliy shuld he be fleniyd ?
And theifor examynyng fyrst wille I make
Sen that lie caliys hym a kyng.
Cayphas. Bot he that forsake
I shalle gyf hym a wryng that his nek shalle crak.
An?ia. Syr, ye may not hym dyng, no word yit he
spake
That I wyst ;
Hark felow, com nar,
Wylle thou never be war ?
1 have mervelle tliou dar
Thus do thyn awne lyst.
Bot I shalle do as the law wylle if the people ruse
the,
Say, dyd thou oght this ylle ? can thou oght excuse
the ?
Whi standes thou so stylle when men thus accuse
the?
For to hyng on a hylle hark how they ruse the
To dam ;
Say, art thou Godos son of heven.
As thou art wont for to neven ?
Jesus. So thou says by thi stevcn.
And right so 1 am ;
For after this shalle thou se when that [I] do com
downe
In bright nes on he, in dowdy s from abone.
Catjphaa. A, ille myght the feete be that broght
the to towne !
Thou art worthy to dc ; say, thcfe, where is thi
crowne ?
COLIPHIZATK)
197
Anna. Abyde, sir,
Let us lawfully redres.
Cayphas. We nede no wytnes,
His self says expres ;
Whi shuld I not chyde, sir ?
Anna. Was ther never man so wyk bot he mvglit
amende
When it com to the pryk ; right as your self kend.
Cayphas. Nay sir, bot I shalle hym styk even with
myn awne hand ;
For if he reve and be whyk we ar at an end
Alle sam ;
Therfor whils I am in this brethe
Let me put hym to dethe.
Anna. Sed nobis non licet
Interficere quemquam.
Sir ye wot better then I we shuld slo no man.
Cayphas. His dedys I defy, his warkes may we
ban,.
Therfor shalle he by.
Anna. Nay, on oder wyse than,
And do it lawfully.
Cayphas. As how ?
Anna. Tel you I can.
Cayphas. Let se.
Anna. Sir take tent to my sawes,
Men of temporalle lawes
They may deme siche cause,
And so may not we.
Cayphas, My hart is fulle cold nerehand that I
swelt.
For talys that ar told I bolne at my belt,
Unethes may it hold my body an ye it felt,
Yit wold I gif of my gold yond tratoure to pelt
For ever.
Anna. Good sir, do as ye hett me.
Cayphas. Whi shalle he over sett me ?
Sir Anna, if ye lett me
Ye "do not your dever.
Anna. Sir, ye ar a prelate.
Cayphas. " So may I welle seme,
My self if I say it.
An?ia. Be not to breme,
Sich men of astate shuld no men deme,