_Cleophas._ Latt us here no lengere dwelle, But to oure bretheryn the wey we wende; With talys trewe to them we telle That Cryst dothe leve, oure mayster and frende. _Lucas._ I graunt therto with hert ful hende, Lete us go walke forthe in owre way; I am ful joyfulle in hert and mende, That owre Lord levyth, that fyrst ded lay. _Cleophas._ Now was it not goodly don Of Cryst Jhesu, oure mayster dere; He hath with us a large wey gon, And of his uprysyng he dede us lere. Whan he walkyd with us in fere, And we supposyd hym bothe deed and colde, That he was aresyn ffrom undyr here, Be holy Scripture the trewthe he tolde. _Lucas._ Ryght lovyngely don forsoth this was, What myght owre mayster tyl us do more, Than us to chere that fforthe dede pas, And ffor his dethe we murnyd ful sore? ffor love of hym owre myrthe was lore, We were ffor hym ryght hevy in herte; But now owre myrthe he doth restore, ffor he is resyn bothe heyl and qwert. _Cleophas._ That he is thus resyn I have grett woundyr, An hevy ston ovyr hym ther lay; How shulde he breke the ston asoundyr, That was deed and colde in clay? Every man this mervayle may, And drede that Lorde of mekyl myght; But ȝit of this no man sey nay, ffor we have seyn hym with opyn syght. _Lucas._ That he doth leve, I woot wel this, He is aresyn with flesche and blood; A levynge man forsothe he is, That rewly was rent upon a rood. Alle heyl! dere brothyr, and chaunge ȝour mood, ffor Cryst doth levyn and hath his hele; We walkyd in wey with Cryst so good, And spak with hym wurdys fele. _Cleophas._ Evyn tylle Emawus the grett castelle ffrom Jerusalem with hym we went, Syxti ffurlonge, as we ȝow telle, We went with hym evyn passent. He spak with us with good entent, That Cryst xuld leve he tolde tylle us, And previd it be Scripture verament; Trust me trewe, it is ryght thus! _Lucas._ ȝa, and whan he had longe spokyn us tylle, He wold ffrom us a gon his way; With strenght and myght we keptyn hym stylle, And bred we tokyn hym to etyn in fay. He brak the loff, as evyn on tway, As ony sharpe knyff xuld kytt breed; Therby we knew the trewthe that day That Cryst dede leve and was not deed. _Petrus._ Now trewly, serys, I have grett woundyr Of these grete merveylis that ȝe us telle; In brekynge of bred fful evyn asoundyr, Oure mayster ȝe knew and Lord ryght welle. ȝe sey Cryst levith that Jewys dyd qwelle, Tylle us glad tydynges, this is serteyn, And that oure mayster with ȝow so longe dede dwelle, It dothe wel preve that he levith ageyn.