_Tertius Judæus._ Seres, set up the cros on the honde, That we may loke hym in the face. _Quartus Judæus._ ȝa! and we xal knelyn onto oure kyng so kend, And preyn hym of his gret grace! _Here qwhan thei han set hym up, thei xuln gon before hym, seyng eche affter other thus_, _Primus Judæus._ Heyl! kyng of Jewys, yf thou be. _Secundus Judæus._ ȝa! ȝa! sere, as thou hangyst there flesche and bonys. _Tertius Judæus._ Com now down of that tre! _Quartus Judæus._ And we wole worchepe the alle at onys. _Here xul poer comonys stand and loke upon the Jewys iiij. or v., and the Jewys xul come to them, and do them hange the thevys._ _Primus Judæus._ Come on, ȝe knavys, and set up these ij. crosses ryth, And hange up these to thevys anon! _Secundus Judæus._ ȝa! and in the worchep of this worthy knyth, On eche syde of hym xal hangyn on! _Here the sympyl men xul settyn up these ij. crossys, and hangyn up the thevys be the armys and therwhylys xal the Jewys cast dyce for his clothis, and fytyn and stryvyn; and in the mene tyme xal oure Lady come with iij. Maryes with here and Sen John with hem, settyng hem down asyde afore the cros; oure Lady swuonyng and mornyng and leysere seyng_, _Maria._ A! my good Lord, my sone so swete! Why hast thou don? why hangyst now thus here? Is ther non other deth to the now mete, But the most shamful deth among these thevys fere? A! out on my hert! whi brest thou nowth? And thou art maydyn and modyr, and seyst thus thi childe spylle! How mayst thou abyde this sorwe and this woful thowth? Ah! deth! deth! deth! Why wilt thou not me kylle? _Here oure Lady xal swonge aȝen, and ore Lord xal seyn thus_, _Jhesus._ O ffadyr almythy! makere of man! fforgyff these Jewys that don me wo! fforgeve hem, fadyr! forgeve hem than! ffor thei wete nowth what thei do. _Primus Judæus._ ȝa! vath! vath! now here is he That bad us dystroye oure tempyl on a day, And withinne days thre He xuld reysynt aȝen in good aray. _Secundus Judæus._ Now and thou kan do sweche a dede, Help now thiself, yf that thou kan; And we xal belevyn on the withoutyn drede, And seyn thou art a mythty man! _Tertius Judæus._ ȝa! yf thu be Goddys sone, as thou dedyst teche, ffrom the cros come now downe! Than of mercy we xal the beseche, And seyn thou art a Lord of gret renown! _Jestes._ Yf thou be Goddys sone, as thou dedyst seye, Helpe here now both the and us! But I fynde it not al in my feye, That thou xuldyst be Cryst, Goddys sone Jhesus. _Dysmas._ Go wey, fool! why seyst thou so? He is the sone of God, I beleve it wel! And synne dede he nevyr, lo! That he xuld be put this deth tyl. Be we ful meche wrong han wrowth, — He dede nevyr thing amys! Now mercy, good Lord! mercy! and forgete me nowth Whan thou comyst to thi kyngham and to thi blysse!