Rybald. Outt, harro![505] what harlot is he
That says his kyngdom shal be cryde?
David. That may thou in sawter se,[506]
For of this prynce thus err I saide;[507]
I saide that he shuld breke
Youre barres and bandes by name,[508]
And of youre wareks take wreke;[509]
Now shall thou se the same.
Jesus. Ye prynces of helle open youre yate,
And let my folk furthe gone,
A prynce of peasse shalle enter therat
Wheder ye wille or none.
Rybald. What art thou that spekys so?
Jesus. A kyng of blys that hight Jesus.
Rybald. Yee hens fast I red[510] thou go,
And melle[511] the not with us.
Belzabub. Oure yates[512] I trow wille last,
Thay ar so strong I weyn,[513]
Bot if oure barres brast,
For the, thay shalle not twyn.[514]
Jesus. This stede[515] shalle stande no longer stokyn;[516]
Open up and let my pepille pas.
Rybald. Out, harro![517] oure baylle is brokyn,[518]
And brusten ar alle oure bandes of bras.