To every man he was ryght hende;
Us he dede refresche with drynk and food,
Now he is gon, gon is oure frende!
Jhesus. ȝowre grett wepynge doth me constreyne
ffor my good ffrend to wepe also;
I cannot me for wo restreyn,
But I must wepe lyke as ȝe do.
Hic Jhesus fingit se lacrimari.
Tertius consolator. Beholde this prophete, how he doth wepe lo!
He lovyd Lazarus ryght woundyrly sore,