As who seyth, “bethynke the what I seyd before?”
Alas, the tyme that I evyr hym forsoke!
And so wyl I thynkyn from hens evyrmore.
Cayphas. Massangere! Massangere!
Massangere. Here, lord, here!
Cayphas. Massanger, to Pylat in hast thou xalt gon,
And sey hym we comawnde us in word and in dede;
And prey hym that he be at the mot-halle anoon,
ffor we han gret matere that he must nedes spede.
In hast now go thi way,