Whethyr ȝe bery hym in pyt or grave,
The powere I grawnt ȝow here present.
The ij. knygtes go with Joseph to Jhesus, and stande and heldyn hym in the face,
Secundus miles. Me thynkyth Jhesu is sewre anow,— It is no ned his bonys to breke: He is ded, how thinkyth ȝow? He xal nevyr go nor speke. Primus miles. We wyl be sure or than we go, Of a thyng I am bethowth; [Gh]ondyr is a blynd knyth I xal go to, And sone awhyle here xal be wrowth.
Here the knyth goth to blynde Longeys, and seyth,
Heyl, sere Longeys, thou gentyl knyth!
The I prey now ryth hertyly;
That thou wylt wend with me ful wyth,
It xal be for thi prow veryly.
Longeus. Sere, at ȝour comawndement with ȝow wyl I wende, In what place ȝe wyl me have; For I trost ȝe be my frend; Lede me forth, sere, oure sabath ȝou save! Primus miles. Lo! sere Longeys, here is a spere! Bothe long, and brood, and sharp anow; Heve it up fast that it wore there, ffor here is game:— show, man, show.
Here Longeys showyth the spere warly, and the blood comyth rennyng to his hand, and he avantoresly xal wype his eyn.
Longeus. O good Lord! how may this be,
That I may se so bryth now?
