What? spek Jhesus, and telle me why This pepyl do the so here acuse? Spare not, but telle me now on he, How thou canst thiself excuse. _Cayphas._ Loo! serys, this is of hym a false sotylté, He wyl not speke but whan he lyst; Thus he dysceyvyth the pepyl in eche degré; He is ful fals, ȝe veryly tryst. _Rex Herowde._ What, thou onhangyd harlot, why wylt thou not speke? Hast thou skorne to speke onto thi kyng? Becawse thou dost oure lawys breke, I trowe thou art aferd of oure talkyng. _Annas._ Nay, he is not aferde, but of a fals wyle, Becawse we xuld not hym acuse; If that he answerd ȝow ontylle, He knowyth he kan not hymself excuse. _Rex Herowde._ What? spek I say, thou foulyng, evyl mot thou fare! Loke up, the devyl mote the cheke! Seres, bete his body with scorges bare, And asay to make hym for to speke! _Primus Judæus._ It xal be do withoutyn teryeng, — Come on, thou tretour, evyl mot thou the! Whylt thou not speke onto oure kyng? A new lesson we xal lere the! _Here thei pulle of Jhesus clothis, and betyn hym with whyppys._ _Secundus Judæus._ Jhesus, thi bonys we xal not breke, But we xal make the to skyppe! Thou hast lost thi tonge, thou mayst not speke, Thou xalt asay now of this whippe. _Tertius Judæus._ Serys, take these whyppys in ȝour honde, And spare not whyl thei last; And bete this tretoure that here doth stonde, I trowe that he wyl speke in hast. _And qwhan thei han betyn hym tyl he is alle blody, than the Herownd seyth_, Sees, seres, I comawnde ȝou be name of the devyl of helle! Jhesus, thynkyst this good game? Thou art strong, to suffyr schame, Thou haddyst levyr be betyn lame, Than thi defawtys for to telle. But I wyl not thi body alle spyl, Nor put it here into more peyn; Serys, takyth Jhesus at ȝour owyn wyl, And lede hym to Pylat hom ageyn. Grete hym weyl, and telle hym serteyn, Alle my good frenchep xal he have; I gyf hym powere of Jhesus, thus ȝe hym seyn, Whether he wole hym dampne or save. _Primus doctor._ Sere, at ȝour request it xal be do, We xal lede Jhesus at ȝour demawde; And delyvyr hym Pylat onto, And telle hym alle as ȝe comawnde. _Here enteryth Satan into the place in the most orryble wyse, and qwyl that he pleyth, thei xal don on Jhesus clothis and overest a whyte clothe, and ledyn hym abowth the place, and than to Pylat, be the tyme that hese wyf hath pleyd._ XXXI. PILATE’S WIFE’S DREAM. _Sathan._ Thus I reyne as a rochand with a rynggyng rowth, As a devyl most dowty dred is my dynt; Many a thowsand develys to me do thei lowth, Brennyng in flamys as fyre out of flynt! Ho so serve me, Sathan, to sorwe is he sent, With dragonys in doungenys and develys fu derke, In bras and in bronston the brethellys be brent, That wene in this werd my wyl for to werke!