Of ȝour Pasche day that is ner honde,
What theff or tretour be in bonde,
For worchep of that day xal go fre away
Without any price.
Now than me thynkyth it were ryth,
To lete Jhesus now go qwyte,
And do to hym no mo dyspyte,—
I wolde wete what ȝe say.
Seres, this is myn avyse.
Here alle thei xul cryen, "Nay! nay! nay!"
Primus doctor. Delyvere us the theff Barabas, That for mansclawth presonde was. Pylat. What xal I than with Jhesu do? Whether xal he abyde or go? Secundus doctor. Jhesus xal on the cros be don, Crucifigatur we cry echon! Pylat. Seres, what hath Jhesus don amys? Populus clamabunt. Crucifigatur we sey at onys. Pylat. Serys, syn al gatys ȝe wolyn so, Puttyn Jhesu to wo and peyn; Jhesu a wyle with me xal go, I wole hym examyne betwyx us tweyn.
Here Pylat takyth Jhesu, and ledyth hym into the cowncel hous, and seyth,
Jhesus, what seyst now? lete se,
This matere now thou undyrstonde;
In pes thou myth be for me,
But for thi pepyl of thi londe.
Busshoppys and prestys of the lawe,
Thei love the not, as thou mayst se;
