The Hanging of Judas

Judas
Alas, alas, & walaway!
waryd & cursyd I haue beyn ay;
I slew my father, & syn by-lay
My moder der;
And falsly, aftur, I can betray
Myn awn mayster.
My fathers name was ruben, right;
Sibaria my moder hight;
Als he her knew apon a nyght
All fleshle,
In her sleyp she se a sighte,
A great ferle.
her thoght ther lay her syd with-in
A lothly lumpe of fleshly syn,
Of the which distruccion schuld begyn
Of all Iury;
That Cursyd Clott of Camys kyn,
fforsoth, was I.
Dreyd of that sight mad her awake,
& all hir body did tremyll & qwake;
her thoght hir hert did all to-brake-
No wonder was-
the first[e] word my moder spake
was alas, alas!
Alas, alas! sche cryed faste,
with that, on weping owt sche braste:
My father wakyd, at the laste,
& her afranyd;
Sche told hym how she was agaste,
& nothyng laynyd.
my father bad, "let be thy woo!
my Cowncel is, if hit be soo,
A child be gettyn betwixt hus too,
Doghter or son,
lett hit neuer on erth[e] go,
Bot be fordon.
bettur hit is fordon to be
then hit fordo both the & me;
ffor in a while then schall we se,
& full well knaw,
wheder that swevyns be vanite
or on to traw."
The tyme was comyn that I was borne,
os my moder sayd beforn;
Alas, that I had beyn forlorn
With-In hir syd!
for ther then spronge a schrewid thorn
That spred full wyd.
for I was born with owtyn grace,
Thay me namyd & Callyd Iudas;
The father of the child ay hays
Great petye;
He myght not thoyle afor his face
My deth to se.
My ded to se then myght he noght;
A lytyll lep he gart he wroght,
& ther I was in bed [i-]broght
& bondon faste;
To the salt se then thay soght,
& In me Caste.
The wawes rosse, the wynd[e] blew;
That I was Cursyd full well thai knew;
The storme vnto the yle me threw,
That lytill botte;
And of that land my to-name drew,
Iudas skariott.
Thor os wrekke in sand I lay,
The qweyn Com passyng ther away,
With hir madyns to sport & play;
And prevaly
A child she fond in slyk aray,
& had ferly.
Neuer-the-lesse sche was well payd,
And on hir lap[pe] sche me layd;
Sche me kissid & with me playd,
ffor I was fayre;
"A child god hays me send," sche sayd,
"to be myn ayre."
Sche mad me be to norice done,
And fosterd as her awn[e] sone,
And told the kyng that sche had gone
All the yer with child;
And with fayr wordys, as wemen Con,
sche hym begild.
Then the kyng gart mak a fest
To all the land [right] of the best,
ffor that he had gettyn a gest,
A swetly thyng,
When he wer ded & broght to rest,
that myght be kyng.
Sone aftur with in yer[e]s too,
In the land hit befell soo,
The qweyn hir selff with child Can goo;
A son sche bayr;
A fayrer child, from tope to too
Man neuer se ayre.