_Jesus._ My mother mild, change thou thy cheer, Cease from thy sorrow and sighing sere, It syttes[373] unto my heart full sore; The sorrow is sharp, I suffer here; But the dole thou drees,[374] my mother dear, Me martyrs mickle more. Thus wills my father I fare To loose mankind from bands His son will he not spare, To loose that bond was e'er Full fast in fiends' hands. The first cause, mother, of my coming Was for mankind miscarrying, To save them sore I sought; Therefore, mother make no mourning Since mankind, through my dying, May thus to bliss be brought. Woman, weep thou right nought, Take there, John, unto thy child, Mankind must needs be bought; And thou cast, cousin, in thy thought.[375] John, lo, there, thy mother mild! Blue and bloody thus am I beat, Swongen with swepys[376] and all a-sweat, Mankind, for thy misdeed. For my love's sake when wouldst thou let,[377] And thy heart sadly set, Since I thus for thee have bled? Such life for sooth, I lead, That nothing may I more. This I suffer for thy need, To mark thee, man, thy meed! Now thirst I wonder sore. _1st Torturer._ Nought but hold thy peace, Thou shalt have drink within a resse,[378] Myself shall be thy knave; Have here the draught that I thee hete,[379] And I shall warrant it is not sweet By all the good I have. _2nd Torturer._ So, sir, say now all your will, For if ye could have holden you still Ye had not had this brade.[380] _3rd Torturer._ Thou would'st all gate[381] be King of Jews, But by this I trow thou rues All that thou has said. _4th Torturer._ He has him rused of great prophës[382] That he should make us tempyllës And make it clean fall down; And yet he said he should it raise As well as it was within three days, He lies, that wot we all; And for his lies in great despite We will divide his clothing tyte[383] Save he can more of art.[384] _1st Torturer._ Yes, as ever might I thrive, Soon will we this mantle rive, And each man take his part. _2nd Torturer._ How, wouldst thou we share this cloth? _3rd Torturer._ Nay, forsooth, that were I loth, For then it were all gate[385] spoilt. But assent thou to my saw,[386] And let us all cut draw[387] And then is none begylt.[388] _2nd Torturer._ Howe'er befall, now I draw, This is mine by common law, Say not there again. _1st Torturer._ Now since it may no better be, Chevithe thee with it for me; Methinks thou art full fain. _2nd Torturer._ How, fellows, see ye not yon scraw?[389] It is written yonder within a thraw, Now since that we drew lot. _3rd Torturer._ There is no man that is alive, Unless Pilate, as I might thrive That durst it there have put. _4th Torturer._ Go we fast, and let us look What is written on yon book And what it may be, mean. _1st Torturer._ All the more I look thereon, All the more I think I fon;[390] All is not worth a bean.