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With umbyl hert submyt egal,
  As eche of ȝow were otherys brother.

Nothyng, serys, so wele plesyth me,
  Nor no lyff that man may lede,
As thei that levyn in charyté;
  In efne I xal reward here mede.
The day is come,—I must procede
  ffor to fulfylle the prophecy;
This nyth for me ȝe xal han drede,
  Whan noumber of pepyl xal on me cry.

ffor the prophetys spoke of me,
  And seydyn of deth that I xuld take;
ffro wheche deth I wole not fle,
  But for mannys synne amendys make.

This nyth fro ȝow be led I xal,
  And ȝe for fer fro me xal fle;
Not onys dur speke whan I ȝow calle,
  And some of ȝow forsake me.

ffor ȝow xal I dey and ryse ageyn,—
  Un the thrydde day ȝe xal me se
Beforn ȝow all walkyng playn,
  In the lond of Galylé.

Petrus. Lord, I wyl the nevyr forsake!
  Nor for no perellys fro the fle;
I wyl rather my deth take,
  Than onys, Lord, forsake the!

Jhesu. Petyr, thou ferthere than thou doyst knowe,
  As for that promese loke thou not make;
ffor or the cok hath twyes crowe,
  Thryes thou xal me forsake.