Wente I forth after,

12072

As a recchelees renk
That of no wo roughte,

And yede forth lik a lorel
Al my lif tyme,

Til I weex wery of the world,
And wilned eft to slepe,
And lened me to a lenten,
And longe tyme I slepte;

[aunce,

And of Cristes passion and pen

The peple that of raughte,

Reste me there, and rutte faste

Til ramis palmarum.

Of gerlis and of gloria laus

Gretly me dremed,

And how hosanna by organye

Olde folk songen.

Oon semblable to the Samaritan, And som deel to Piers the Plowman,

Bare-foot on an asse bak

Boot-les cam prikye,

12093

Withouten spores other spere,
Spakliche he lokede,

As is the kynde of a knyght
That cometh to be dubbed,
To geten hym gilte spores,
Or galoches y-couped.

Thanne was Feith in a fenestre, And cryde a fili David,

As dooth an heraud of armes,

Whan aventrous cometh to justes.

Old Jewes of Jerusalem

For joye thei songen,

12105

Benedictus qui venit in nomine Do

mini.

Thanne I frayned at Feith, What al that fare by-mente,

And who sholde juste in Jerusalem. Jhesus," he seide,

ઃઃ

And fecche that the fend claymeth, Piers fruyt the Plowman.'

"Is Piers in this place ?" quod I. And he preynte on me:

"This Jhesus of his gentries

Wol juste in Piers armes,

12116

In his helm and in his haubergeon,

Humana natura;

That Crist be noght bi-knowe here

For consummatus Deus.

In Piers paltok the Plowman

This prikiere shal ryde.

For no dynt shal hym dere,
As in deitate Patris."

"Who shal juste with Jhesus?"

"Jewes or scrybes ?"

12127

"Nay," quod he; "The foule fend,

And fals doom and deeth.
Deeth seith he shal for-do
And a-doun brynge
Al that lyveth and loketh
In londe and in watre.

"Lif seith that he lieth,
And leieth his lif to wedde,
That for al that deeth kan do
Withinne thre daies

To walke and fecche fro the fend

Piers fruyt the Plowman,

And legge it ther hym liketh,

And Lucifer bynde,

And for-bete and a-doun brynge

Bale deeth for evere.'

O mors, ero mors tua.

وو

12141

Thanne cam Pilatus with muche peple,

Sedens pro tribunali,

To se how doghtiliche Deeth sholde
And deme hir botheres right. [do,
The Jewes and the justice

Ayeins Jhesu thei weere,
And al the court on hym cryde

Crucifige sharpe.

Tho putte hym forth a pilour

Bifore Pilat, and seide,

"This Jhesus of oure Jewes temple

Hath japed and despised,
To for-doon it on o day,
And in thre dayes after
Edifie it eft newe;

12159

Here he stant that seide it;
And yit maken it as muche
In alle manere poyntes,
Bothe as long and as large,
Bi lofte and by grounde.'

ઃઃ

12160

Crucifige!" quod a cachepol;

"I warrante hym a wicche.' "Tolle! tolle!" quod another, And took of kene thornes,

And bigan of kene thorn

A garland to make,

And sette it sore on his heed, 12171

And seide in envye,

"Ave, Raby," quod that rybaud,

And threw reedes at hym,

Nailed hym with thre nailes

Naked on the roode,

And poison on a poole

Thei putte up to hise lippes,

And beden hym drynken his deeth

yvel,

Hise daies were y-done,

"And if that thow sotil be, 12181 Help now thiselve ;

If thow be Crist and kynges sone, Com down of the roode;

[eth,

Thanne shul we leve that lif thee lov

And wol noght lete thee deye."

Consummatum est," quod Crist,

And comsede for to swoune

Pitousliche and pale,

As a prison that deieth.

The lord of lif and of light

Tho leide hise eighen togideres.

The day for drede withdrough, 12193
And derk bicam the sonne;
The wal waggède and cleef,
And al the world quaved;
Dede men for that dene
Come out of depe graves,
And tolde why that tempeste
So longe tyme durede;
"For a bitter bataille,"

The dede body seide,

12204

"Lif and deeth in this derknesse
Hir oon for-dooth hir oother.
Shal no wight wite witterly
Who shal have the maistrie
Er Sonday aboute sonne risyng;"
And sank with that til erthe.

Some seide that he was Goddes

That so faire deide.

Vere filius Dei erat iste.

[sone

And some seide he was a wicche,

"Good is that we assaye

Wher he be deed or noght deed,

Doun er he be taken."

Two theves also

Tholed deeth that tyme,

Upon a croos besides Crist,

So was the comune lawe.

A cachepol cam forth

And craked bothe hire legges,
And the armes after

Of either of tho theves.

Ac was no body so boold

Goddes body to touche;

12215

For he was knyght and kynges sone,