Ludus Coventriæ

by Unknown

XXVII. THE LAST SUPPER.

Petrus. Lord! where wolte thou kepe thi maundé?

I pray the now lete us have knowyng:

That we may make redy for the,

The to serve withowte latyng.

Johannes. To provyde, Lord, for thi comyng,

With alle the obedeyns we kan atende,

And make redy for the in al thyng,

Into what place thou wyth us send.

Jhesu. Serys, goth to Syon, and ȝe xal mete

A pore man in sympyl aray,

Beryng watyr in the strete,

Telle hym I xal come that way.

Onto hym mekely loke that ȝe say,

That hese hous I wole come tylle;

He wele not onys to ȝow sey nay,

But sofre to have alle ȝour wylle.

Petrus. At thi wyl, Lord, it xal be don,

To seke that place we xal us hye.

Johannes. In alle the hast that we may go,

Thin comawdement nevyr to denye.

Here Petyr and John gon forth metyng with Symon leprows beryng a kan with watyr, Petyr thus seyng,

Petrus. Good man, the prophete, oure Lord Jhesus,

This nyth wyl reste wythin thin halle;

On massage to the he hath sent us,

That ffor his sopere ordeyn thou xalle.

Johannes. ȝa! for hym and his dyscipulys alle,

Ordeyn thu for his maundé,

A paschalle lomb what so befalle,

ffor he wyl kepe his pasche with the.

Symon. What, wyl my Lord vesyte my plase?

Blyssyd be the tyme of his comyng!

I xal ordeyn withinne short space

ffor my good lordys welcomyng.

Serys, walkyth in at the begynnyng,

And se what vetaylys that I xal take,

I am so glad of this tydyng,

I wot nevyr what joye that I may make.

Here the dyscypulys gon in with Symon to se the ordenawns, and Cryst comyng thedyr-ward, thus seyng,

Jhesus. This pathe is cal Sydon be goostly ordenawns,

Weche xal convey us, wher we xal be,

I knowe ful redy is the purvyaunce,

Of my frendys that lovyn me.

Contewnyng in pees now procede we,

ffor mannys love this wey I take,

With gostly ey I veryly se,

That man ffor man an hende must make.

Here the dysciples come ageyn to Cryst, Petyr thus seyng,

Petrus. Alleredy lord is oure ordenawns,

As I hope to ȝow plesyng xal be,

Seymon hath don, at ȝoure instawns,

He is ful glad ȝour presens to se.

Johannes. Alle thyng we have, Lorde, at oure plesyng,

That longyth to ȝoure mawndé with ful glad chere;

Whan he herd telle of ȝour comyng,

Gret joye in hym than dyd appere.

Here comyth Symon owt of his hous to welcome Cryst,

Symon. Gracyous Lord, welcome thu be,

Reverens be to the, both God and man!

My poer hous that thou wylt se,

Weche am thi servaunt, as I kan.

Jhesu. There joye of alle joyis to the is sewre!

Symon, I knowe thi trewe intent,

The blysse of hefne thou xalt recure,

This rewarde I xal the grawnt present.

Here Cryst enteryth into the hous with his disciplis and ete the Paschal lomb; and in the mene tyme the cownsel-hous beforn-seyd xal sodeynly onclose, schewyng the buschopys, prestys, and jewgys syttyng in here astat, lyche as it were a convocacyon; Annas seyng thus,

Annas. Beheld it is nowth al that we do,

In alle houre materys we prophete nowth;

Wole ȝe se weche peusawns of pepyl drawyth hym to,

ffor the mervaylys that he hath wrowth.

Some othyr sotylté must be sowth,

ffor in no wyse we may not thus hym leve;

Than to a schrewde conclusyoun we xal be browth,

ffor the Romaynes than wyl us myscheve,

And take oure astat and put us to repreve,

And convey alle the pepyl at here owyn request,

And thus alle the pepyl in hym xal beleve,

Therfore I pray ȝow, cosyn, say what is the best?

Cayphas. Attende now, serys, to that I xal seye,

Onto us alle it is most expedyent;

That o man ffor the pepyl xuld deye,

Than alle the pepyl xuld perysch and be shent.

Therfor late us werk wysely that we us not repent,

We must nedys put on hym som fals dede;

I sey for me I had levyr he were brent,

Than he xuld us alle thus ovyr-lede;

Therfore every man on his party help at this nede,

And cowntyrfete alle the sotyltés that ȝe kan,

Now late se he kan ȝeve best rede,

To ordeyn sum dystruccion ffor this man.

Gamalyel. Late us no lenger make delacion,

But do Jhesu be takyn in hondys fast;

And alle here ffolweres to here confusyon,

And into a preson do hem be cast.

Ley on hem yron that wol last,

ffor he hath wrouth aȝens the ryth;

And sythyn aftyr we xal in hast

Jewge hym to deth with gret dyspyth.

Rewfyn. ffor he hath trespacyd aȝens oure lawe,

Me semyth this were best jewgement;

With wyld hors lete hym be drawe,

And afftyr in fyre he xal be brent.

Leyon. Serys, o thyng myself herd hym sey,

That he was kyng of Jewys alle.

That is anow to do hym dey,

ffor treson to Seȝar we must it calle.

He seyd also to personys that I know,

That he xuld and myth serteyn

The gret tempyl mythyly ovyrthrow,

And the thrydde day reysynt ageyn.

Seche materys the pepyl doth conseyve,

To ȝeve credens to his werkys alle,

In hefne, he seyth, xal be his reyn,

Bothe God and man he doth hym calle.

Rewfyn. And alle this day we xuld contryve,

What shameful deth Jhesu xuld have;

We may not do hym to meche myscheve,

The worchep of oure lawe to save.

Leyon. Upon a jebet lete hym hongyn be,

This jugement me semyth it is reson;

That alle the countré may hym se,

And be ware be his gret treson.

Rewfyn. ȝet o thyng, serys, ȝe must aspye,

And make a ryth sotyl ordenawns;

Be what menys ȝe may come hym bye,

ffor he hath many folwerys at his instawns.

Annas. Serys, therof we must have avysement,

And ben acordyd or than we go;

How we xal han hym at oure entent,

Som wey we xal fynd therto.

Here Judas Caryoth comyth into the place.

Maria Magdalene. As a cursyd creature closyd alle in care,

And as a wyckyd wrecche alle wrappyd in wo,

Of blysse was nevyr no berde so bare,

As I mysylf that here now go.

Alas! alas! I xal forfare,

ffor tho grete synnys that I have do;

Lesse that my lord God sumdel spare,

And his grett mercy receyve me to.

Mary Maudelyn is my name.

Now wyl I go to Cryst Jhesu,

ffor he is Lord of alle vertu,

And for sum grace I thynke to sew,

ffor of myself I have grett shame.

A! mercy! Lord! and salve my synne,

Maydenys ffloure thou wasche me fre,

Ther was nevyr woman of mannys kynne,

So ful of synne in no countré.

I have beffowlyd be fryth and ffenne,

And sowght synne in many a ceté;

But thou me borwe, Lord, I xal brenne,

With blake ffendys ay bowne to be.

Wherefore, kynge of grace,

With this oynement that is so sote,

Lete me anoynte thin holy fote

And for my balys thus wyn sum bote,

And mercy, Lord, for my trespace.

Jhesus. Woman, ffor thi wepynge wylle,

Sum socowre God xal the sende;

The to save I have grett skylle,

ffor sorwefful hert may synne amende.

Alle thi prayour I xal fulfylle,

To thi good hert I wul attende,

And save the fro thi synne so hylle,

And fro vij. develys I xal the ffende,—

ffendys, flethe ȝour weye!

Wyckyd spyritys I ȝow conjowre,

fflethe out of hire bodyly bowre,

In my grace she xal evyr fflowre,

Tyl dethe doth here to deye.

Maria Magdalene. I thanke the, Lorde, of this grett grace;

Now these vij. ffendys be fro me fflytt.

I xal nevyr fforffett nor do trespace,

In wurd nor dede, ne wyl, nor wytt.

Now I am brought ffrom the fendys brace,

In thi grett mercy closyd and shytt;

I xal nevyr returne to synful trace,

That xulde me dampne to helle pytt.

I wurchep the on knes bare,

Blyssyd be the tyme that I hedyr sowth,

And this oynement that I hedyr brought,

ffor now myn hert is clensyd from thought,

That ffyrst was combryd with care.

Judas. Lord! me thynkyth thou dost ryght ille,

To lete this oynement so spylle,

To selle it yt were more skylle,

And bye mete to poer men.

The box was worthe of good moné,

iij.c. pens, fayr and fre,

This myght a bowht mete plenté.

To ffede oure power kene.

Jhesus. Pore men xul abyde;

Ageyn the woman thou spekyst wronge.

And I passe forthe in a tyde,

Off mercy is here mornyng songe.

Here Cryst restyth and etyth a lytyl, and seyth, syttyng to his disciplis, and Mary Mawdelyn,

Jhesus. Myn herte is ryght sory and no wondyr is,

Thoo dethe I xal go and nevyr dyd trespas;

But ȝitt most grevyth myn hert evyr of this,

On of my bretheryn xal werke this manas.

On of ȝow here syttynge my treson xal tras,

On of ȝow is besy my dethe here to dyth,

And ȝitt was I nevyr in no synful plas,

Wherefore my dethe xuld so shamfully be pyght.

Petrus. My dere Lord, I pray the the trewthe for to telle,

Whiche of us ys he that treson xal do?

Whatt traytor is he that his lord that wold selle?

Expresse his name, Lord, that xal werke this woo.

Johannes. If that ther be on that wolde selle so,

Good mayster, telle us now opynly his name.

What traytour is hym that from the that wolde go?

And with ffals treson ffulfylle his grett shame?

Andreas. It is ryght dredfull suche tresson to thynke,

And wel more dredfful to werk that bad dede;

ffor that ffals treson to helle he xal synke,

In endles peynes grett myscheff to lede.

Jacobus major. It is not I, Lord, ffor dowte I have drede,

This synne to fulfylle cam nevyr in my mende.

Iff that I solde the thy blood ffor to blede,

In doyng that treson my sowle xulde I shende.

Matheus. Alas! my dere Lord, what man is so wood,

ffor gold or for sylvyr hymself so to spylle?

He that the doth selle ffor gold and for other good,

With his grett covetyse hymself he doth kylle.

Bartholomeus. What man so evyr he be of so wyckyd wylle,

Dere Lord, among us telle us his name alle owt;

He that to hym tendyth this dede to fulffille,

ffor his grett treson his sowle stondyth in dowt.

Philippus. Golde, sylver, and tresoour sone dothe passe away,

But withowtyn ende evyr dothe laste thi grace.

A! Lord! who is that wylle chaffare the for monay?

ffor he that sellyth his lord to grett is the trespace.

Jacobus minor. That traytour that doth this orryble manace,

Bothe body and sowle I holde he be lorn;

Dampnyd to helle-pytt, fer from thi face,

Amonge alle ffowle fyndys to be rent and torn.

Symon. To bad a marchawnt that traytour he is,

And ffor that monye he may mornyng make;

Alas! what cawsyth hym to selle the kyng of blys?

ffor his fals wynnynge the devyl hym xal take.

Thomas. ffor his ffals treson the fendys so blake

Xal here his sowle depe down into helle pytt;

Resste xal he non have, but evyr more wake,

Brennyng in hoot fyre, in preson evyr shytt.

Thadeus. I woundyr ryght sore who that he xuld be,

Amonges us alle bretheryn, that xuld do this synne?

Alas, he is lorn! ther may no grace be,

In depe helle donjeon his sowle he doth pynne.

Jhesus. In my dysche he etyht this treson xal begynne,

Wo xal betydyn hym for his werke of dred;

He may be ryght sory swyche ryches to wynne,

Ad whysshe hymself unborn ffor that synful ded.

Judas. The trewth wolde I knowe as leff as ȝe,

And therfore, good ssere, the trewthe thou me telle;

Whiche of us alle here that traytour may be,

Am I that person that the now xal selle.

Jhesus. So seyst thiselff, take hed att thi spelle,

Thou askyst me now here if thou xalt do that treson;

Remembyr thiself, avyse the ryght welle,

Thou art of grett age, and wotysst what is reson.

Here Judas rysyth prevely and goth in the place and seyt,

Judas. Now cowntyrfeted I have a prevy treson,

My masterys power for to felle,

I, Judas, xal asay be some encheson,

Onto the Jewys hym for to selle.

Som mony for hym ȝet wold I telle,

Be prevy menys I xal asay,

Myn intent I xal fulfylle,

No lenger I wole make delay.

The princys of prestys now be present,

Unto hem now my way I take,

I wyl go tellyn hem myn entent,

I trow ful mery I xal hem make.

Mony I wyl non forsake,

And thei profyr to my plesyng,

For covetyse I wyl with hem wake,

And onto my maystyr I xal hem bryng.

Heyl prynsesse and prestys that ben present,

New tydynges to ȝow I come to telle,

ȝyf ȝe wole folwe myn intent,

My mayster, Jhesu, I wole ȝow selle,

Hese intent and purpose for to felle;

ffor I wole no lenger folwyn his lawe;—

Late sen what mony that I xal telle,

And late Jhesu my maystyr ben hangyn and drawe.

Gamalyel. Now welcome, Judas, oure owyn frende!

Take hym in, serys, be the honde:

We xal the bothe geve and lende,

And in every qwarel by the stonde.

Rewfyn. Judas, what xal we for thi mayster pay?

Thi sylver is redy, and we acorde,

The payment xal have no delay,

But be leyde down here at a worde.

Judas. Late the mony here down be layde,

And I xal telle ȝow, as I kan;

In old termys I have herd seyde,

That mony makyth schapman.

Rewfyn. Here is thretty platys of sylver bryth,

Fast knyth withinne this glove;

And we may have thi mayster this nyth,

This xalt thou have, and alle oure love.

Judas. ȝe are resonable chapman to bye and selle,

This bargany with ȝow now xal I make;

Smyth up, ȝe xal have al ȝour wylle,

ffor mony wyl I non forsake.

Leyon. Now this bargany is mad ful and fast,

Noyther part may it forsake;

But Judas thou must telle us in hast,

Be what menys we xal hym take.

Rewfyn. ȝa ther be many that hym nevyr sowe,

Weche we wyl sende to hym in fere;

Therfor be a tokyn we must hym knowe,

That must be prevy betwyx us here.

Leyon. ȝa beware of that for ony thynge,

For o dyscypil is lyche thi mayster in al parayl;

And ȝe go lyche in alle clothyng,

So myth we of oure purpose fayl.

Judas. As for that, serys, have ȝe no dowth.

I xal ordeyn, so ȝe xal not mysse;

Whan that ȝe cum hym alle abowth,

Take the man that I xal kysse.

I must go to my maystyr ageyn,

Dowth not, serys, this matere is sure i-now.

Gamalyel. Farewel, Judas, oure frend serteyn,

Thi labour we xal ryth wel alow

Judas. Now wyl I sotely go seke my mayster ageyn,

And make good face, as I nowth knew;

I have hym solde to wo and peyn,

I trowe ful sore he xal it rew.

Here Judas goth in sotylly wher as he cam fro.

Annas. Lo, serys, a part we have of oure entent,

For to take Jhesu now we must provyde;

A sotyl meny to be present,

That dare fyth and wele abyde.

Gamalyel. Ordeyn eche man on his party,

Cressetys, lanternys, and torchys lyth;

And this nyth to be ther redy,

With exys, gleyvis, and swerdys bryth.

Cayphas. No lenger than make we teryeng,

But eche man to his place hym dyth,

And ordeyn prively for this thyng,

That it be don this same nyth.

Here the buschopys partyn in the place, and eche of hem takyn here leve, be contenawns, resortyng eche man to his place with here meny to make redy to take Cryst; and than xal the place ther Cryst is in xal sodeynly unclose rownd abowt, shewyng Cryst syttyng at the table and hese dyscypules eche in ere degré, Cryst thus seyng,

Jhesu. Bredereyn, this lambe that was set us beforn,

That we alle have etyn in this nyth,

It was comawndyd be my fadyr to Moyses and Aaron,

Whan thei weryn with the chylderyn of Israel in Egythp.

And as we with swete bredys have it ete,

And also with the byttyr sokelyng,

And as we take the hed with the fete,

So dede thei in alle maner thyng.

And as we stodyn so dede thei stond,

And here reynes thei gyrdyn veryly,

With schon on here fete and stavys in here hond,

And as we ete it, so dede thei hastyly.

This fygure xal sesse, anothyr xal folwe therby;

Weche xal be of my body that am ȝour hed,

Weche xal be shewyd to ȝow be a mystery,

Of my fflesche and blood in forme of bred.

And with fervent desyre of hertys affeccion,

I have enterly desyryd to kepe my mawndé,

Among ȝow er than I suffre my passyon,

ffor of this no more togedyr suppe xal we.

And as the Paschal lomb etyn have we,

In the eld lawe was usyd for a sacryfyce,

So the newe lomb that xal be sacryd be me,

Xal be usyd for a sacryfyce most of price.

Here xal Jhesus take a noble in his hand, lokyng upward into hefne, to the fadyr thus seyng,

Wherefore to the, Fadyr of hefne, that art eternalle,

Thankyng and honor I ȝeld onto the,

To whom be the Godhed I am eqwalle,

But be my manhod I am of lesse degré.

Wherefore I, as man, worchep the deyté,

Thankyng the, fadyr, that thou wylt shew this mystery,

And thus thurwe thi myth, Fadyr, and blyssyng of me.

Of this that was bred is mad my body.

Here xal he spekyn ageyn to his dysciples, thus seyng,

Bretheryn, be the vertu of these wordys that rehercyd be,

This that shewyth as bred to ȝour apparens,

Is mad the very flesche and blod of me,

To the weche thei that wole be savyd must ȝeve credens.

And as in the olde lawe it was comawndyd and precepte,

To ete this lomb to the dystruccyon of Pharao unkende,

So to dystroy ȝour gostly enmye this xal be kepte,

ffor ȝour paschal lombe into the werdys ende.

ffor this is the very lombe, withowte spot of synne,

Of weche John the Baptyst dede prophesy,

Than this prophesye he dede begynne,

Seyng “Ecce agnus Dey!”

And how ȝe xal ete this lombe I xal ȝeve infformacion,

In the same forme as the eld lawe doth specyfye,

As I shewe be gostly interpretacyon;

Therfore to that I xal sey ȝour wyttes loke ȝe replye.

With no byttyr bred this bred ete xal be,

That is to say, with no byttyrnesse of hate and envye,

But with the suete bred of love and charyté,

Weche ffortefyet the soule gretlye.

And it schuld ben etyn with the byttyr sokelyng,

That is to mene, ȝyf a man be of synful dysposycion,

Hathe led his lyff here with myslevyng,

Therfore in his hert he xal have byttyr contrycion.

Also the hed with the feet ete xal ȝe,

Be the hed ȝe xal undyrstand my Godhed,

And be the feet ȝe xal take myn humanyté,

These tweyn ȝe xal receyve togedyr in dede.

This immaculat lombe that I xal ȝow ȝeve,

Is not only the Godhed alone,

But bothe God and man, thus must ȝe beleve;

Thus the hed with the feet ȝe xal receyve eche on.

Of this lombe un-ete yf owth belevyth i-wys,

Yt xuld be cast in the clere fyre and brent;

Weche is to mene, yf thou undyrstande nowth al this,

Put thi feyth in God, and than thou xalt not be shent.

The gyrdyl that was comawndyd here reynes to sprede,

Xal be the gyrdyl of clennes and chastyté;

That is to sayn, to be contynent in word, thought, and dede,

And alle leccherous levyng cast ȝow for to fle.

And the schon that xal be ȝour feet upon,

Is not ellys but exawnpyl of vertuis levyng;

Of ȝour form fadeyrs ȝou beforn,

With these schon my steppys ȝe xal be sewyng.

And the staf that in ȝour handys ȝe xal holde,

Is not ellys but the exawmplys to other men teche;

Hold fast ȝour stavys in ȝour handys, and beth bolde

To every creature myn precepttys for to preche.

Also ȝe must ete this paschalle lombe hastyly,

Of weche sentens this is the very entent;

At every oure and tyme ȝe xal be redy,

ffor to fulfylle my cowmawndement.

ffor thow ȝe leve this day, ȝe are not sure

Whedyr ȝe xal leve to morwe or nowth;

Therfor hastyly every oure do ȝoure besy cure,

To kepe my preceptys, and than thar ȝe not dowth.

Now have I lerned ȝow how ȝe xal ete

ȝour paschal lombe, that is my precyous body;

Now I wyl fede ȝow alle with awngellys mete,

Wherfore to reseyve it come fforth seryattly.

Petrus. Lord, ffor to receyve this gostly sustenawns

In dewe forme, it excedyth myn intellygens;

ffor no man of hymself may have substawns

To receyve it with to meche reverens.

ffor with more delycyous mete, Lord, thou may us not fede,

Than with thin owyn precyous body;

Wherfore what I have trespacyd in word, thought, or dede,—

With byttyr contrycion, Lord, I haske the mercy.

Whan oure Lorde ȝyvyth his body to his dyscypulys, he xal sey to eche of hem, except to Judas,

This is my body, fflesch, and blode,

That for the xal dey upon the rode.

And whan Judas comyth last, oure Lord xal sey to hym,

Judas, art thou avysyd what thou xalt take?

Judas. Lord, thi body I wyl not forsake!

And sythyn oure Lord xal sey onto Judas,

Jhesu. Myn body to the I wole not denye,

Sythyn thou wylt presume therupon;

Yt xal be thi dampnacyon verylye,—

I ȝeve the warnyng now beforn.

And aftyr that Judas hath reseyvyd, he xal syt ther he was, Cryst seyng,

On of ȝow hath betrayd me,

That at my borde with me hath ete;

Bettyr it hadde hym for to a be

Bothe unborn and unbegete.

Than eche dyscypyl xal loke on other, and Petyr xal sey,

Petrus. Lord, it is not I.

And so alle xul seyn, tyl thei comyn at Judas, weche xal sey,

Judas. Is it owth I, Lord?

Than Jhesus xal sey,

Jhesus. Judas, thou seyst that word!

Me thou ast solde, that was thi ffrend,

That thou hast begonne brenge to an ende.

Than Judas xal gon ageyn to the Jewys, and, yf men wolne, xal mete with hym and sey this speche folwyng, or levynt, whether thei wyl, the devyl thus seyng,

Demon. A! a! Judas, derlyng myn!

Thou art the best to me that evyr was bore!

Thou xalt be crownyd in helle peyn!

And therof thou xalt be sekyr for evyrmore!

Thow hast solde thi maystyr and etyn hym also,

I wolde thou kowdyst bryngyn hym to helle every del;

But ȝet I fere he xuld do ther sum sorwe and wo,

That alle helle xal crye out on me that sel.

Sped up thi matere that thou hast begonne,

I xal to helle for the to mak redy;

Anon thou xalt com wher thou xalt wonne,

In fyre and stynk thou xalt sytt me by.

Jhesu. Now the sone of God claryfyed is,

And God in hym is claryfyed also;

I am sory that Judas hath lost his blysse,

Weche xal turne hym to sorwe and wo.

But now in the memory of my passyon,

To ben partabyl with me in my reyn above,

ȝe xal drynk myn blood with gret devocyon,

Wheche xal be xad ffor mannys love.

Takyth these chalys of the newe testament,

And kepyth this evyr in ȝour mende;

As often as ȝe do this with trewe intent,

It xal defende ȝow from ȝe ffende.

Than xal the dysciplys com and take the blod. Jhesus seyng,

This is my blood that for mannys synne,

Outh of myn herte it xal renne.

And the dyscyplys xul sett them aȝen ther thei were, and Jhesus xal seyn,

Takyth hed now, bretheryn, what I have do;

With my flesch and blood I have ȝow fed!

ffor mannys love I may do no mo

Than for love of man to be ded.

Werfore, Petyr, and ȝe everychon,

ȝyf ȝe love me, fede my schep;

That, for fawth of techyng, thei go not wrong,

But evyr to hem takyth good kep.

ȝevyth hem my body, as I have to ȝow,

Qweche xal be sacryd be my worde;

And evyr I xal thus abyde with ȝow,

Into the ende of the werde.

Ho so etyth my body and drynkyth my blood,

Hol God and man he xal me take;

It xal hym defende from the devyl wood,

And at his deth I xal hym nowth forsake.

And ho so not ete my body nor drynke my blood,

Lyfe in hym is nevyr a dele;

Kepe wel this in mende for ȝour good,

And every man save hymself wele.

Here Jhesus takyth a basyn with watyr and towaly gyrt abowtyn hym, and fallyth beforn Petyr on his o kne.

Jhesus. Another exawmpyl I xal ȝow shewe,

How ȝe xal leve in charyté;

Syt here down at wordys fewe,

And quat I do ȝe, sofre me.

Here he takyth the basyn and the towaly, and doth as the roberych seyth beforn.

Petrus. Lord! what wylt thou with me do?

This service of the I wyl forsake;

To wassche my feet thou xal not so,—

I am not worthy it of the to take.

Jhesu. Petyr and thou forsake my servyces alle,

The weche to ȝow that I xal do;

No part with me have thou xal,

And nevyr com my blysse onto.

Petrus. That part, Lord, we wyl not forgo,

We xal abey his comawndement;

Wasche hed and hond, we pray the so,

We wyl don aftyr thin entent.

Here Jhesus wasshyth his dyscipulys feet by and by, and whypyth hem and kyssyth hem mekely, and sythyn settyth hym down, thus seyng,

ffrendys, this wasshyng xal now prevayll,

ȝoure Lord and mayster ȝe do me calle;

And so I am, withowytn fayl,

ȝet I have wasschyd ȝow alle.

A memory of this have ȝe xall,

That eche of ȝow xal do to othyr,

With umbyl hert submyt egal,

As eche of ȝow were otherys brother.

Nothyng, serys, so wele plesyth me,

Nor no lyff that man may lede,

As thei that levyn in charyté;

In efne I xal reward here mede.

The day is come,—I must procede

ffor to fulfylle the prophecy;

This nyth for me ȝe xal han drede,

Whan noumber of pepyl xal on me cry.

ffor the prophetys spoke of me,

And seydyn of deth that I xuld take;

ffro wheche deth I wole not fle,

But for mannys synne amendys make.

This nyth fro ȝow be led I xal,

And ȝe for fer fro me xal fle;

Not onys dur speke whan I ȝow calle,

And some of ȝow forsake me.

ffor ȝow xal I dey and ryse ageyn,—

Un the thrydde day ȝe xal me se

Beforn ȝow all walkyng playn,

In the lond of Galylé.

Petrus. Lord, I wyl the nevyr forsake!

Nor for no perellys fro the fle;

I wyl rather my deth take,

Than onys, Lord, forsake the!

Jhesu. Petyr, thou ferthere than thou doyst knowe,

As for that promese loke thou not make;

ffor or the cok hath twyes crowe,

Thryes thou xal me forsake.

But all my frendys, that arn me dere,

Late us go, the tyme drawyth ny;

We may no lengere abydyn here,

ffor I must walke to Betany.

The tyme is come, the day drawyth nere,

Onto my deth I must in hast;

Now, Petyr, make halle thi felawys chere,

My flesche for fere is qwakyng fast.

Here Jhesus goth to Betany-ward, and his dyscipulys folwyng with sad contenawns, Jhesus seyng,