_Petrus._ The trewthe to tellyn it passyth oure witt, Wethyr he be resyn thorwe his owyn myght, Or ellys stolyn out of his pitt Be sum man prevely be nyght. That he is gon we saw with syght, ffor in his grave he is nowth; We cannot tellyn in what plyght, Out of his grave that he is browth. XXXVII. CHRIST APPEARING TO MARY. _Maria Magdalene goth to the grave, and wepyth, and seyth_, ffor hertyly sorwe myn herte dothe breke, With wepynge terys I wasche my face; Alas! ffor sorwe I may not speke, My Lorde is gon that hereinne wase: Myn owyn dere Lorde and kynge of gras, That vij. develys ffro me dyd take, I kan nat se hym, alas! alas! He is stolyn awey owt of this lake. _Aungelus._ Woman, that stondyst here alone? Why dost thou wepe, and morne, and wepe so sore? What cawse hast thou to make suche mone? Why makyst thou suche sorwe, and wherefore? _Maria Magdalene._ I have gret cawse to wepe evyrmore; My Lord is take out of his grave, Stolyn awey and fro me lore, I kannot wete where hym to have. _Hic parum deambulet a sepulcro, dicens_, Alas! alas! what xal I do? My Lord awey is fro me take; A, woful wrecche! whedyr xal I go? My joye is gon owth of this lake. _Jhesus._ Woman, suche mornynge why dost thou make? Why is thi chere so hevy and badde? Why dost thou sythe so sore and qwake? Why dost thou wepe so sore and sadde? _Maria Magdalene._ A grettyr cawse had nevyr woman, ffor to wepe bothe nyth and day, Than I myself have in serteyn, And for to sorwyn evyr and ay. Alas! ffor sorwe myn hert doth blede, My Lorde is take fro me away; I muste nedys sore wepe and grede; Where he is put I kan not say. But, jentyl gardener, I pray to the, If thou hym took out of his grave, Telle me qwere I may hym se, That I may go my Lorde to have. _Jhesus._ MARIA. _Maria Magdalene._ A! mayster and Lorde to the I crave, As thou art Lord and kynge of blys! [_Spectans._ Graunt me, Lord, and thou vowchesave Thyn holy ffete that I may kys! _Jhesus._ Towche me nott as ȝett, Mary, ffor to my fadyr I have not ascende; But to my bretheryn in hast the hyȝ, With these gode wurdys here care amende. Sey to my bretheryn that I intende To stey to my fadyr and to ȝowre, To oure Lord both God and frende, I wyl ascende to hevyn towre. In hevyn to ordeyn ȝow a place, To my ffadyr now wyl I go; To merthe, and joye, and grett solace, And endeles blys to brynge ȝow to. ffor man I sufferyd both schame and wo, More spyteful deth nevyr man dyd take, ȝit wyl I ordeyn ffor al this, lo, In hevyn an halle for mannys sake!