He is resyn to lyve this day,
Out of his grave oure Lord is go!
Cleophas. Latt us here no lengere dwelle,
But to oure bretheryn the wey we wende;
With talys trewe to them we telle
That Cryst dothe leve, oure mayster and frende.
Lucas. I graunt therto with hert ful hende,
Lete us go walke forthe in owre way;
I am ful joyfulle in hert and mende,
That owre Lord levyth, that fyrst ded lay.