A VOICE. Why are you standing here? A VOICE. I came to see. A VOICE. O, did you so? A VOICE. Why do you look at me? A VOICE. You were his friend: you come from Galilee. A VOICE. I do not. A VOICE. Yes, you do. A VOICE. I tell you, No. A VOICE. You know this man quite well. A VOICE. I do not know One thing about him. A VOICE. Does he know the cur? A VOICE. Ay, but denies. He was his follower. A VOICE. I was not. A VOICE. Why, I saw you in the hall, I watched you. A VOICE. I was never there at all. A VOICE. So he would be a King. A VOICE. That was the plan. A VOICE. I swear to God I never saw the man. A VOICE. He did; you liar; fling him down the stair. A VOICE. I did not, friends. I hate the man, I swear. VOICES. You swear too much for truth, down with him, sons. Leave him, here's Pilate. _Enter_ LONGINUS _and_ SOLDIERS. LONGINUS. Stand back. Keep further back. Get down the stair, Stop all this wrangling. Make less babble there. Keep back yet further. See you keep that line. Silence. These Jewish pigs. THE JEWS. The Roman swine. _Enter_ PILATE. PILATE. Longinus. LONGINUS. Lord. PILATE. No Jew here thinks him King. They want his blood. LONGINUS. They would want anything That would beguile the hours until the Feast. PILATE. I would be glad to disappoint the priest. I like this Jesus man. A man so wise Ought not to end through crazy prophecies. Still, he persists. LONGINUS. They are a stubborn breed. The medicine Cross is what they mostly need. PILATE. Still, this man is, in fact, a kind of king, A God beside these beasts who spit and sting, The best Jew I have known. LONGINUS. He had his chance. PILATE. O, yes, he had. We'll let the Jews advance Into the court. I tried to set him free. Still, if he will persist, the thing must be. And yet I am sorry. LONGINUS. I am sorry, too. He seemed a good brave fellow, for a Jew. Still, when a man is mad there is no cure But death, like this. PILATE. I fear so. LONGINUS. I am sure. Shall I begin? PILATE. Yes. LONGINUS. Sound the Assembly. [_Trumpet._] Sound The Imperial call. [_Trumpet._] PILATE. You people, gathered round, Behold your King. VOICES. Our King. I see him. Where? That heap of clothes behind the soldiers there. He has been soundly beaten. Look, he bleeds. A cross on Old Skull Hill is what he needs. PILATE. What would you, then, that I should do to him? VOICES. Stone the blasphemer, tear him limb from limb, Kill him with stones, he uttered blasphemy, Give him to us, for us to crucify. Crucify! PILATE. Would you crucify your King? VOICES. He is no King of ours; we have no King But Cæsar. Crucify! PILATE. Bring pen and ink. LONGINUS. Hold up the prisoner, Lucius; give him drink. PILATE. I come to sentence.