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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,
