Primus Tortor. Now for oght that I wate, Alle his kyn commys to late

His body to borow.

Secundus Tortor. I wold we were on warde.

Primus Tortor.

Bot his een must be hyd.

Secundus Tortor. Yei, bot thay be welle spard we

lost that we dyd;

Step furthe thou Froward.

Froward.

What is now betyd?

Have ye none to byd

Primus Tortor. Thou art ever away ward.

Froward.

Bot me?

I may syng ylla-haylle.

Secundus Tortor. Thou must get us a vaylle.
Froward. Ye ar ever in oone taylle.

Primus Tortor.

Now ille myght thou the!

Welle had thou thi name, for thou was ever curst.
Froward. Sir, I myght say the same to you if I
durst,

Yit my hyer may I clame, no penny I purst;
I have had mekylle shame, hunger and thurst,
In your servyce.

Primus Tortor. Not oone word so bold.
Froward. Why, it is trew that I told,
Fayn preve it I wold.

Secundus Tortor. Thou shalbe cald to pervyce. Froward. Here a vaylle have I fon, I trow it wille last.

Primus Tortor. Bryng it hider, good son, that is it that I ast.

Froward. How shuld it be bon ?

Secundus Tortor.

Abowte his heade cast.

Primus Tortor. Yei, and when it is welle won knit

a knot fast

I red.

Froward. Is it weylle?

Secundus Tortor.

Yei, knave.

Froward. What, weyn ye that I rafe?

Cryst curs myght he have

That last bond his head!

Primus Tortor. Now sen he is blynfold I falle to begyn,

And thus was I counseld the mastry to wyn. Secundus Tortor. Nay, wrang has thou told, thus shuld thou com in.

Froward. I stole and beheld, thou towched not

the skyn,

Bot fowlle.

Primus Tortor. How wille thou I do.
Secundus Tortor. On this manere, lo.

Froward. Yei, that was welle

Thar start up a cowlle.

gone to,

Primus Tortor. Thus shalle we hym refe alle his fonde talys.

Secundus Tortor. Ther is noght in thi nefe, or els thi hart falys.

Froward. I can my hand uphefe and knop out the skalys.

Primus Tortor. Godes forbot ye lefe, bot set in youre nalys

On raw;

Sit up and prophecy.

Froward. Bot make us no ly.

Secundus Tortor. Who smote the last?

Primus Tortor.

Froward.

Was it I?

He wote not, I traw.

Primus Tortor. Fast to sir Cayphas go we togeder. Secundus Tortor. Ryse up with ille grace, so com

thou hyder.

Froward. It semys by his pase he grotches to go thyder.

Primus Tortor. We have gyfen hym a glase, ye may consyder,

To kepe.

Secundus Tortor. Sir, for his great boost, With knoks he is indoost.

Froward. In fayth, sir, we had almost

Knokyd hym on slepe.

Cayphas. Now sen he is welle bett, weynd on

youre gate,

And telle ye the forfett unto sir Pylate;

For he is a Juge sett emang men of state,

And looke that ye not let.

Primus Tortor.

Be lyfe;

We shalle lede the a trot.

Com furthe, old crate;

Secundus Tortor. Lyft thi feete may thou not.
Froward. Then nedes me do nott

Bot com after and dryfe.

Cayphas. Alas, now take I hede.

Anna.

Why mowrne ye so?

Cayphas. For I am ever in drede, wandreth, and

Wo,

Lest Pylate for mede let Jesus go,

Bot had I slayn hym in dede withe thise handes two At onys

Alle had bene qwytt than;

Bot gyftes marres many man,
Bot he deme the sothe than

The dwille have his bonys.

Sir Anna alle I wyte you this blame, for had ye not beyn

I had mayde hym fulle tame, yei stykyd hym, I

weyn,

To the hart fulle wan with this dagger so keyn. Anna. Sir, you must shame sich wordys for to meyn

Emang men.

Cayphas. I wille not dwelle in this stede, Bot spy how thay hym lede,

And persew on his dede;

Fare welle, we gang, men.

EXPLICIT COLIPHIZATIO.

INCIPIT FLAGELLACIO.

Pilatus. Peasse at my bydyng, ye wyghtys in wold!
Looke none be so hardy to speke a word bot I,
Or by Mahowne most myghty, maker on mold,
With this brande that I bere ye shalle bytterly aby ;
Say, wote ye not that I am Pylate, perles to behold?
Most doughty in dedes of dukys of the Jury,

In bradyng of batels I am the most bold,
Therfor my name to you wille I descry,
No mys.

I am fulle of sotelty,

Falshod, gylt, and trechery;

Therfor am I namyd by clergy

As mali actoris.

For like as on bothe sydys the iren the hamer makithe playn,

So do I, that the law has here in my kepyng,

The right side to socoure, certes, I am fulle bayn,
If I may get ther-by a vantege or wynyng;
Then to the fals parte I turne me agayn,
For I se more vaylle wille to me be risyng;
Thus every man to drede me shalbe fulle fayn,
And alle faynt of thare faythe to me be obeying,
Truly.

Alle fals endytars,

Quest-gangars, and jurars,

And thise out-rydars

Ar welcom to me.

Bot this prophete, that has prechyd and puplyshed so playn

Cristen law, Crist thay calle hym in oure cuntre,

Bot oure prynces fulle prowdly this nyght have hym

tayn

Fulle tytt to be dampned he shalle be hurlyd before

me;

I shalle fownd to be his freynd utward, in certayn, And shew hym fare cowntenance and wordes of vanyte,

Bot or this day at nyght on crosse shalle he be slayn, Thus agans hym in my hart I bere great enmyte

Fulle sore.

Ye men that use bak bytynges,
And rasars of slanderynges,

Ye ar my dere darlynges,

And Mahown's for evermore.

For no thyng in this warld dos me more grefe
Than for to here of Crist and his new lawes,

To trow that he is Godes son my hart wold alle-to clefe,

Thoughe he be never so trew bothe in dedes and in

sawes.

Therfor shalle he suffre mekille myschefe,

And alle the dyscypyls that unto hym drawes,

For ever alle solace to me it is most lefe

The shedyng of Cristen bloode, and that alle Jury knawes,

I say you.

My knytes fulle swythe

Thare strengthes wille thay kythe,

And bryng hym be-lyfe;

Lo, where thay com now!

Primus Tortor. I have ron that I swett from Sir Herod oure kyng

With this man that wille not lett oure lawes to downe bryng;

He has done so myche forfett of care may he syng,
Thrughe dom of sir Pylate he gettes an ylle endyng
And sore;

The great warkes he has wroght
Shalle serve hym of noght,

And bot thay be dere boght

Lefe me no more.

Bot make rowme in this rese I byd you, belyfe,

And of youre noys that ye sesse both man and wyfe,
To sir Pylate on dese this man wille we dryfe,
His dede for to dres and refe hym his lyfe

This day;

Do draw hym forward,
Whi stand ye so bakward?

Com on, sir, hyderward,

As fast as ye may!

Secundus Tortor. Do pulle hym a rase whyls we be

gangyng,