_Primus consolator._ ȝoure byddynge xal be done a ful swyfte, Sett to ȝour handys and helpe echone; I pray ȝow, seres, help me to lyfte, I may not reyse it myself alon. _Secundus consolator._ In feyth it is an holy ston, Ryth sad of weyth and hevy of peys. _Tertius consolator._ Thow it were twyes so hevy as on, Undyr us foure we xal it reyse. _Nuncius._ Now is the ston take ffrom the cave, Here may men se a rewly sygth Of this ded body that lyth here in grave, Wrappyd in a petefful plyght. _Jhesus elevatis ad cælum oculis, dicit_, I thanke the, Fadyr, of thin hyȝ myght, That thou hast herd my prayour this day; I know ful wel, bothe day and nyght, Ever thou dost graunt that I do say. But for this pepyl that stondyth about, And beleve not the power of the and me; Them for to brynge clene out of dowt, This day oure myght they alle xul se. _Hic Jhesus clamat voce magna, dicens_, Laȝarus! Laȝarus! my frende so fre! ffrom that depe pitt come out anon! Be the grett myght of the hyȝ magesté, Alyve thou xalt on erthe ageyn gon. _Laȝarus._ At ȝoure comaundement I ryse up ful ryght, Heyn, helle, and erthe ȝoure byddyng must obeye; ffor ȝe be God and man, and Lord of most myght, Of lyff and of deth ȝe have bothe lok and keye. _Hic resurget Lazarus ligatis manibus et pedibus ad modum sepulturi, et dicit Jhesus_, _Jhesus._ Goo forthe, bretheryn, and Laȝarus ȝe untey, And alle his bondys losyth hym asundyr; Late hym walke hom with ȝow in the wey, Ageyn Godes myght this meracle is now undyr. _Petrus._ At ȝour byddynge his bondys we unbynde, Alle thynge muste lowte unto ȝour magesté! Be this grett meracle opynly we fynde, Very God and man in trewthe that ȝe be. _Johannes._ That thou art very God every man may se, Be this meracle so grett and so mervaylle; Alle thynge undyr hevyn must nedys obeye the,— Whan aȝens the thowh deth be, he may not prevaylle. _Omnes Consolatores._ We alle with o voys ffor God do the knowe, And for oure Savyour we do the reverens; Alle oure hool love now in the doth growe, O sovereyn Lord of most excellens! Helpe us of ȝour grace whan that we go hens, ffor azens deth us helpyht not to stryve, But aȝen ȝour myght is no resistens, Oure dethe ȝe may aslake and kepe us stylle on lyve. _Jhesus._ Now I have shewyd in opyn syght, Of my Godhed the gret glorye; To-ward my passyon I wyl me dyght, The tyme is nere that I must deye. ffor alle mankynde his sowle to bye, A crown of thorn xal perchyn myn brayn, And on the mont of Calvarye, Upon a cros I xal be slayn. XXV. THE COUNCIL OF THE JEWS. _Demon._ I am ȝour lord Lucifer, that out of helle cam, Prince of this werd, and gret duke of helle. Wherefore my name is clepyd Sere Satan, Wheche aperyth among ȝow a matere to spelle.