"Lif seith that he lieth, And leieth his lif to wedde, That for al that deeth kan do Withinne thre daies To walke and fecche fro the fend Piers fruyt the Plowman, And legge it ther hym liketh, 12140 And Lucifer bynde, And for-bete and a-doun brynge Bale deeth for evere." _O mors, ero mors tua._ Thanne cam Pilatus with muche peple, _Sedens pro tribunali_, To se how doghtiliche Deeth sholde do, And deme hir botheres right. The Jewes and the justice Ayeins Jhesu thei weere, 12150 And al the court on hym cryde _Crucifige_ sharpe. Tho putte hym forth a pilour Bifore Pilat, and seide, "This Jhesus of oure Jewes temple Hath japed and despised, To for-doon it on o day, And in thre dayes after Edifie it eft newe; {372} Here he stant that seide it; 12160 And yit maken it as muche In alle manere poyntes, Bothe as long and as large, Bi lofte and by grounde." "_Crucifige!_" quod a cachepol; "I warrante hym a wicche." "_Tolle! tolle!_" quod another, And took of kene thornes, And bigan of kene thorn A garland to make, 12170 And sette it sore on his heed, And seide in envye, "Ave, Raby," quod that rybaud, And threw reedes at hym, Nailed hym with thre nailes Naked on the roode, And poison on a poole Thei putte up to hise lippes, And beden hym drynken his deeth yvel, Hise daies were y-done, 12180 "And if that thow sotil be, Help now thiselve; If thow be Crist and kynges sone, Com down of the roode; Thanne shul we leve that lif thee loveth, And wol noght lete thee deye." "_Consummatum est_," quod Crist, And comsede for to swoune Pitousliche and pale, As a prison that deieth. 12190 The lord of lif and of light Tho leide hise eighen togideres. {373} The day for drede withdrough, And derk bicam the sonne; The wal waggede and cleef, And al the world quaved; Dede men for that dene Come out of depe graves, And tolde why that tempeste So longe tyme durede; 12200 "For a bitter bataille," The dede body seide, "Lif and deeth in this derknesse Hir oon for-dooth hir oother. Shal no wight wite witterly Who shal have the maistrie Er Sonday aboute sonne risyng;" And sank with that til erthe. Some seide that he was Goddes sone That so faire deide. 12210 _Vere filius Dei erat iste._ And some seide he was a wicche, "Good is that we assaye Wher he be deed or noght deed, Doun er he be taken."