Maria Salome. Now lete us alle thre fulfylle The angelys wurde and Goddys wylle, Lett us sey, with voys wul shrylle, Cryst that Jewys dede sle, Oure Lord that naylyd was on the rode, And betyn out was his bodyes blode, He is aresyn, thoughe they ben wode; A, Lorde! ȝitt wele thou be!
Maria Magdalene dicit Petro et cæteris apostolis,
Bretheryn alle, in herte be glad,
Bothe blythe and joyful in herte ful fayn,
ffor ryght good tydandys have we had
That oure Lord is resyn agayn!
An aungel bade us ryght thus sertayn,
To the, Petyr, that we xulde telle,
How Cryst is resyn, the whiche was slayn,
A lovynge man evyr more to dwelle.
Maria Jacobi. To lyve is resyn ageyn that Lorde,
The qwyche Judas to Jewys solde;
Of this I bere ryght trewe recorde,
By wurdys that the aungel tolde.
Now myrthe and joye to man on molde!
Every man now myrthe may have!
He that was closyd in cley ful colde
This day is resyn owt of his grave!
Petrus. Sey me, systeryn, with wurdys blythe,
May I troste to that ȝe say?
Is Cryst resyn ageyn to lyve,
That was ded and colde in clay?
Maria Salome. ȝa, trostythe us truly, it is no nay;
He is aresyn, it is no les;
