Heyl! sere Pylat, that syttyth in sete! Heyl! justyce of Jewys men do the calle! Heyl! with helthe I do the grete, I pray the of a bone what so befalle. To bery Jhesuis body I wole the pray, That he were out of mennys syth; ffor to morwyn xal be oure holyday, Than wole no man hym bery, I the plyth. And yf we lete hym hange ther stylle, Some wolde seyn therof anow; The pepyl therof wold seyn ful ylle, That nother xuld be ȝour worchep nor prow. _Pylat._ Sere Joseph of Baramathie, I graunt the With Jhesuis body do thin intent; But fyrst I wole wete that he ded be, As it was his jugement! Sere knytys, I comawnd ȝow that ȝe go In hast with Josepht of Baramathie; And loke ȝe take good hede therto, That Jhesu suerly ded be. Se that this comawndement ȝe fulfylle, Without wordys ony mo; And than lete Joseph do his wylle, What that he wyl with Jhesu do. _Here come to knytes beforn Pylat at onys, thus seyng_, _Primus Miles._ Sere, we xal do oure dylygens, With Joseph goyng to Calvarye; Be we out of thi presens, Sone the trewthe we xal aspye. _Joseph._ Gramercy, Pylat, of ȝour jentylnesse, That ȝe ban grawntyd me my lyst; Any thyng in my province ȝe xal have at ȝour resquest. _Pylat._ Sere, alle ȝour lest ȝe xal have, With Jhesuis body do ȝour intent; Whethyr ȝe bery hym in pyt or grave, The powere I grawnt ȝow here present. _The ij. knygtes go with Joseph to Jhesus, and stande and heldyn hym in the face_, _Secundus miles._ Me thynkyth Jhesu is sewre anow,— It is no ned his bonys to breke: He is ded, how thinkyth ȝow? He xal nevyr go nor speke. _Primus miles._ We wyl be sure or than we go, Of a thyng I am bethowth; ȝondyr is a blynd knyth I xal go to, And sone awhyle here xal be wrowth. _Here the knyth goth to blynde Longeys, and seyth_, Heyl, sere Longeys, thou gentyl knyth! The I prey now ryth hertyly; That thou wylt wend with me ful wyth, It xal be for thi prow veryly. _Longeus._ Sere, at ȝour comawndement with ȝow wyl I wende, In what place ȝe wyl me have; For I trost ȝe be my frend; Lede me forth, sere, oure sabath ȝou save! _Primus miles._ Lo! sere Longeys, here is a spere! Bothe long, and brood, and sharp anow; Heve it up fast that it wore there, ffor here is game:— show, man, show. _Here Longeys showyth the spere warly, and the blood comyth rennyng to his hand, and he avantoresly xal wype his eyn._ _Longeus._ O good Lord! how may this be, That I may se so bryth now? This thretty wyntyr I myth not se, And now I may se I wote nevyr how! But ho is this that hangyth here now? I trowe it be the mayndonys sone; And that he is now I knowe wel how, The Jewys to hym this velany han don! _Here he ffallyth downe on his knes._