_Annas._ Loo! here is wax fful redy dyght, Sett on ȝour sele anon ful ryght, Than be ȝe sekyr, I ȝow plyght— He xal not rysyn ageyn. _Pilatus._ On this corner my seal xal sytt, And with this wax I sele this pytt; Now dare I ley he xal nevyr flytt Out of this grave serteayn. _Annas._ Here is more wax fful redy, loo! Alle the corneres ȝe sele also, And with a lokke loke it too,— Than lete us gon oure way. And lete these knytes abydyn therby, And yf hese dysciplys com prevyly To stele awey this ded body, To us they hem brynge without delay. _Pilatus._ On every corner now is sett my seale, Now is myn herte in welthe and wele, This may no brybour awey now stele This body from undyr ston. Now, syr buschopp, I pray to the, And Annas also, com on with me, Evyn togedyr alle we thre Homward the wey we gon. As wynde wrothe, Knyghtes, now goht, Clappyd in clothe, And kepyth hym welle. Loke ȝe be bolde With me for to holde, ȝe xul have gold, And helme of stele. _Pylat, Annas, and Cayphas go to ther skaffaldys, and the knyghtes seyn_, _Affraunt._ Now in this grownde He lyth bounde, That tholyd wounde, ffor he was ffals. This lefft cornere I wyl kepe here, Armyd clere, Bothe hed and hals. _Cosdran._ I wyl have this syde, What so betyde; If any man ryde To stele the cors, I xal hym chyde With woundys wyde, Amonge hem glyde With fyne fors. _Ameraunt._ The hed I take, Hereby to wake; A stele stake I holde in honde, Maystryes to make, Crownys i-crake, Schafftys to shake, And schapyn schonde. _Arfaxat._ I xal not lete To kepe the fete, They ar ful wete, Walterid in blood. He that wylle stalke, Be brook or balke, Hedyr to walke, Tho wrecchis be wood. _Primus miles._ Myn heed dullyth, Myn herte ffullyth Of sslepp. Seynt Mahownd, This beryenge grownd Thou kepp! _Secundus miles._ I sey the same, ffor any blame I falle. Mahownd whelpe, Aftyr thin helpe I calle! _Tertius miles._ I am hevy as leed, ffor any dred I slepe. Mahownd of myght, This ston to nyght Thou kepe! _Quartus miles._ I have no foot To stonde on root By brynke. Here I aske To go to taske A wynke. _Tunc dormyent milites; et veniet Anima Christi de inferno, cum Adam et Eva, Abraham, John Baptist, et aliis._ _Anima Christi._ Come forthe, Adam, and Eve with the, And alle my frendys that here in be; To Paradys come forthe with me, In blysse for to dwelle! The fende of helle, that is ȝour ffoo, He xal be wrappyd and woundyn in woo; ffro wo to welthe now xul ȝe go, With myrthe evyrmore to melle.