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