Nothyng, serys, so wele plesyth me, Nor no lyff that man may lede, As thei that levyn in charyté; In efne I xal reward here mede. The day is come,—I must procede ffor to fulfylle the prophecy; This nyth for me ȝe xal han drede, Whan noumber of pepyl xal on me cry. ffor the prophetys spoke of me, And seydyn of deth that I xuld take; ffro wheche deth I wole not fle, But for mannys synne amendys make. This nyth fro ȝow be led I xal, And ȝe for fer fro me xal fle; Not onys dur speke whan I ȝow calle, And some of ȝow forsake me. ffor ȝow xal I dey and ryse ageyn,— Un the thrydde day ȝe xal me se Beforn ȝow all walkyng playn, In the lond of Galylé. _Petrus._ Lord, I wyl the nevyr forsake! Nor for no perellys fro the fle; I wyl rather my deth take, Than onys, Lord, forsake the! _Jhesu._ Petyr, thou ferthere than thou doyst knowe, As for that promese loke thou not make; ffor or the cok hath twyes crowe, Thryes thou xal me forsake. But all my frendys, that arn me dere, Late us go, the tyme drawyth ny; We may no lengere abydyn here, ffor I must walke to Betany. The tyme is come, the day drawyth nere, Onto my deth I must in hast; Now, Petyr, make halle thi felawys chere, My flesche for fere is qwakyng fast. _Here Jhesus goth to Betany-ward, and his dyscipulys folwyng with sad contenawns, Jhesus seyng_, XVIII. THE BETRAYING OF CHRIST. Now, my dere frendys and bretheryn echone, Remembyr the wordys that I xal sey; The tyme is come that I must gon, ffor to fulfylle the prophesey. That is seyd that I xal dey, The fendys power fro ȝow to flem; Weche deth I wole not deney, Mannys sowle my spouse for to redem. The oyle of mercy is grawntyd playn Be this jorné that I xal take; Be my fadyr I am sent sertayn, Betwyx God and man an ende to make. Man for my brother may I not forsake, Nor shewe hym unkendenesse be no wey; In peynys for hym my body schal schake, And for love of man, man xal dey. _Here Jhesus and his discipules go toward the mount of Olyvet; and whan he comyth a lytyl ther besyde, in a place lyche to a park, he byddyt his dyscipules abyde hym ther, and seyth to Petyr or he goth_, Petyr, with thi ffelawys here xalt thou abyde, And weche tyl I come ageyn; I must make my prayere here ȝou besyde. My flesche qwakyth sore for fere and peyn. _Petrus._ Lord, thi request doth me constreyn; In this place I xal abyde stylle Not remeve tyl that thou comyst ageyn, In confermyng, Lord, of thi wylle. _Here Jhesu goth to Olyvet and settyth hym downe on his knes, and pray th to his fadyr, thus seyng_,