Magdalen. Syth I must nedys with ȝow hens gon, My brotheres grave lete me fyrst kys; Alas! no whith may helpe my mon, ffarewel, my brother! farewel, my blys! Tertius consolator. Hom to ȝour place we xal ȝow wysse, ffor Goddys love be of good chere; Indede ȝe do ryght sore amys, So sore to wepe, as ȝe do here. Martha. Lete us go hom than to oure place, We pray ȝow alle with us to abyde; Us to comforte with sum solace, Tyl that oure sorwe doth slake and sclyde. Primus consolator. ȝow for to comforte at every tyde, We xalle dwelle here bothe nyght and day, And God that made this werd so wyde, Be ȝowre comforte, that best may.
Hic quartus consolator et nuncius loquitur Jhesu dicens,
Quartus consolator. Heyl, holy prophete, Jhesu by name!
Martha and Mawdelyn, tho systeryn too,
Recommende hem to ȝour hyȝ fame,
And bad me sey to ȝow thus, loo!
How that Lazarus, qwhiche that ȝe lovyd so,
With grett syknes is sore dyssesyd;
To hym they prayd ȝow that ȝe wolde goo,
If that ȝour hyȝnes therwith were plesyd.
Jhesus. Dedly syknes Laȝarus hath non,
But for to shewe Goddys grete glorye;
ffor that syknes is ordeynyd alon,
The sone of God to gloryfie.
Nuncius. They be in dowte that he xal deye,
Grett syknes hym sore doth holde;
