Ludus Coventriæ

by Unknown

XVIII. THE BETRAYING OF CHRIST.

Now, my dere frendys and bretheryn echone,

Remembyr the wordys that I xal sey;

The tyme is come that I must gon,

ffor to fulfylle the prophesey.

That is seyd that I xal dey,

The fendys power fro ȝow to flem;

Weche deth I wole not deney,

Mannys sowle my spouse for to redem.

The oyle of mercy is grawntyd playn

Be this jorné that I xal take;

Be my fadyr I am sent sertayn,

Betwyx God and man an ende to make.

Man for my brother may I not forsake,

Nor shewe hym unkendenesse be no wey;

In peynys for hym my body schal schake,

And for love of man, man xal dey.

Here Jhesus and his discipules go toward the mount of Olyvet; and whan he comyth a lytyl ther besyde, in a place lyche to a park, he byddyt his dyscipules abyde hym ther, and seyth to Petyr or he goth,

Petyr, with thi ffelawys here xalt thou abyde,

And weche tyl I come ageyn;

I must make my prayere here ȝou besyde.

My flesche qwakyth sore for fere and peyn.

Petrus. Lord, thi request doth me constreyn;

In this place I xal abyde stylle

Not remeve tyl that thou comyst ageyn,

In confermyng, Lord, of thi wylle.

Here Jhesu goth to Olyvet and settyth hym downe on his knes, and pray th to his fadyr, thus seyng,

O, ffadyr! fadyr! for my sake

This gret passyon thou take fro me

Weche arn ordeyned that I xal take,

ȝyf mannys sowle savyd may be.

And ȝyf it behove, Fadyr, for me

To save mannys sowle that xuld spylle,

I am redy in eche degré,

The vyl of the for to fulfylle.

Here Jhesus gothe to his dyscipulis and fyndyth hem sclepyng, Jhesus thus seyng to Petyr,

Petyr! Petyr! thou slepyst fast,

Awake thi felawys and sclepe no more;

Of my deth ȝe are not agast,

ȝe take ȝour rest and I peyn sore.

Here Cryst goth ageyn the second tyme to Olyvet, and seyth knelyng,

ffadyr in hevyn, I beseche the

Remeve my peynes be thi gret grace,

And lete me fro this deth fle,

As I dede nevyr no trespace!

The watyr and blood owth of my face,

Dystyllyth for peynes that I xal take;

My flesche qwakyth in ferful case,

As thow the joyntes asondre xuld schake.

Here Jhesus goth aȝen to his discipulis and fyndyth hem asclepe; Jhesus thus seyng, latyng hem lyne,

ffadyr, the thrydde tyme I come ageyn,

ffulleche myn erdon for to spede;

Delyver me, Fadyr, fro this peyn,

Weche is reducyd with ful gret drede.

Onto thi sone, Fadyr, take hede!

Thou wotyst I dede nevyr dede but good!

It is not for me this peyn I lede,

But for man I swete bothe watyr and blode.

Here an aungel descendyth to Jhesus, and bryngyth to hym a chalys, with an host therin.

Angelus. Heyl, bothe God and man indede!

The ffadyr hath sent the this present,—

He bad that thou xuldyst not drede,

But fulfylle his entent.

As the parlement of hefne hath ment

That mannys sowle xal now redemyd be;

ffrom hefne to herd, Lord, thou wore sent,

That dede appendyth onto the.

This chalys ys thi blood, this bred is thi body,

ffor mannys synne evyr offeryd xal be;

To the fadyr of heffne that is almythty,

Thi dyscipulis and alle presthood xal offere fore the.

Here the aungel ascendyth aȝen sodeynly.

Jhesu. ffadyr, thi wyl ffulfyllyd xal be,

It is nowth to say aȝens the case;

I xal fulfylle the prophesye,

And sofre deth ffor mannys trespace.

Here goth Cryst ageyn to his dyscipulys, and fyndyth hem sclepyng stylle.

Awake, Petyr, thi rest is ful long;

Of sclep thou wylt make no delay:

Judas is redy, with pepyl strong,

And doth his part me to betray.

Ryse up, serys, I ȝou pray!

Onclose ȝour eyne for my sake;

We xal walke into the way,

And sen hem come that xul me take.

Petyr, whan thou seyst I am forsake

Amonge myn frendys, and stond alone,

Alle the cher that thou kanst make,

Geve to thi bretheryn everychone.

Here Jhesus with his dyscipulis goth into the place, and ther xal come in a x. personys weyl be-seen in white arneys, and breganderes, and some dysgysed in odyr garmentes, with swerdys, gleyvys, and other straunge wepons, and cressettys, with feyr and lanternys and torchis lyth; and Judas formest of al conveyng hem to Jhesu be contenawns. Jhesus thus,

Serys, in ȝour wey ȝe have gret hast

To seke hym that wyl not fle;

Of ȝow I am ryth nowth agast,—

Telle me, serys, whom seke ȝe?

Leyon. Whom we seke here I telle the now,

A tretour is worthy to suffer deth;

We knowe he is here among ȝow,—

His name is Jhesus of Nazareth.

Jhesu. Serys, I am here that wyl not fle,

Do to me all that ȝe kan;

Forsothe I telle ȝow I am he,

Jhesus of Nazareth, that same man.

Here alle the Jewys falle sodeynly to the erde, whan thei here Cryst speke, and qwhan byddyth hem rysyn, thei rysyn aȝen, Cryst thus seyng,

Aryse, serys, whom seke ȝe? fast have ȝe gon.

Is howth ȝour comyng hedyr for me?

I stond beforn ȝow here echone,

That ȝe may me bothe knowe and se.

Rufyne. Jhesus of Naȝareth we seke,

And we myth hym here aspye.

Jhesu. I told ȝow now with wordys meke,

Beforn ȝow alle, that it was I.

Judas. Welcome, Jhesu, my mayster dere,

I have the sowth in many a place!

I am ful glad I fynd the here,

For I wyst nevyr wher thow wace.

Here Judas kyssyth Jhesus, and anoon alle the Jewys come abowth hym, and ley handys on hym, and pullyn as thei were wode, and makyn on hym a gret cry alle at onys; and aftyr this, Petyr seyth,

I drawe my swerd now this sel;

Xal I smyte, mayster? fayn wolde I wete!

And forthwith he smytyth of Malchus here, and he cryeth “Help myn here! myn here!” and Cryst blyssyth it, and tys hol.

Jhesus. Put thy swerd in the shede fayr and wel,

ffor he that smyth with swerd, with swerd xal be smete.

A! Judas, this treson cowntyrfetyd hast thou!

And that thou xalt ful sore repent!

Thou haddyst be bettyr a ben unborn now,

Thi body and sowle thou hast shent!

Gamalyel. Lo, Jhesus! thou mayst not the cace refuse,

Bothe treson and eresye in the is fownde;

Stody now fast on thin excuse,

Whylys that thou gost in cordys bownde.

Thou kallyst the kyng of this werd rownde,

Now lete me se thi gret powere,

And save thiself here, hool and sownde,

And brynge the out of this dawngere.

Leyon. Bryng forth this tretoure, spare hym nowth!

Onto Cayphas thi jewge we xal the lede.

In many a place we have the sowth,

And to thi werkys take good hede.

Rufyne. Com on, Jhesus, and folwe me;

I am ful glad that I the have;

Thou xalt ben hangyn upon a tre,—

A melyon of gold xal the not save!

Leyon. Lete me leyn hand on hym in heye,

Onto his deth I xal hym bryng;

Shewe forth thi wychecrafte and nygramansye;

What helpyth ye now al thi fals werkyng?

Jhesu. ffrendys, take hede ȝe don unryth,

So unkendely with cordys to bynd me here;

And thus to falle on me be nyth,

As thow I were a thevys fere.

Many tyme beforn ȝow I dede apere;

Withinne the temple sen me ȝe have,

The lawys of God to teche and lere,

To hem that wele here sowlys sawe.

Wy dede ȝe not me dysprave,

And herd me preche, both lowd and lowe?

But now as wood men ȝe gynne to rave,

And do thyng that ȝe notwth knove.

Gamalyel. Serys, I charge ȝow not o word more this nyth,

But onto Cayphas in hast loke ȝe hym lede;

Have hym forth with gret dyspyte,

And to his wordys take ȝe non hede.

Here the Jewys lede Cryst oute of the place with gret cry and noyse, some drawyng Cryst forward and some bakward, and so ledyng forth with here weponys alofte, and lytys brennyng. And in the mene tyme Marye Magdalene xal rennyn to oure Lady, and telle here of oure Lordys takyng, thus seyng,

Maria Magdelene. O, inmaculate modyr, of alle women most meke!

O devowtest, in holy medytacyon evyr abydyng!

The cawse, Lady, that I to ȝour person seke,

Is to wetyn yf ȝe heryn ony tydyng

Of ȝour swete sone, and my reverent Lord Jhesu,

That was ȝour dayly solas, — ȝour gostly consolacyon!

Mary. I wold ȝe xuld telle me, Mawdelyn, and ȝe knew,

ffor to here of hym it is alle myn affeccyon.

Maria Magdelene. I wold fayn telle, Lady, and I myth for wepyng,

For sothe, Lady, to the Jewys he is solde;

With cordys thei have hym bownde and have hym in kepyng,

The hym bety spetously, and have hym fast in holde.

Maria Virgo. A! A! A! how myn hert is colde!

A! hert hard as ston, how mayst thou lest?

Whan these sorweful tydyngys are the told,

So wold to God, hert, that thou mytyst brest.

A! Jhesu! Jhesu! Jhesu! Jhesu!

Why xuld ȝe sofere this trybulacyon and advercyté?

How may thei fynd in here hertys ȝow to pursewe,

That nevyr trespacyd in no maner degré?

For nevyr thyng but that was good thowth ȝe,

Wherfore than xuld ȝe sofer this gret peyn?

I suppoce veryly it is for the tresspace of me,

And I wyst that myn hert xuld cleve on tweyn.

ffor these langowrys may I susteyn,

The swerd of sorwe hath so thyrlyd my meende;

Alas! what may I do? alas! what may I seyn?

These prongys myn herte asondyr thei do rende.

O ffadyr of hefne! wher ben al thi behestys

That thou promysyst me, whan a modyr thou me made?

Thi blyssyd sone I bare betwyx tweyn bestys,

And now the bryth colour of his face doth fade.

O good fadyr! why woldyst that thin owyn dere sone xal sofre al this?

And dede he nevyr aȝens thi precept, but evyr was obedyent;

And to every creature most petyful, most jentyl, and benygn i-wys,

And now for alle these kendnessys is now most shameful schent.

Why wolt thou, gracyous Fadyr, that it xal be so?

May man not ellys be savyd be non other kende?

ȝet, Lord Fadyr, than that xal comforte myn wo,

Whan man is savyd be my chylde, and browth to a good ende.

Now, dere sone, syn thou hast evyr be so ful of mercy,

That wylt not spare thiself for the love thou hast to man;

On alle mankend now have thou pety,

And also thynk on thi modyr, that hevy woman.