The Scourging

Pilate
Peasse at my bydyng, ye wyghtys in wold!
Looke none be so hardy to speke a word bot I,
Or by mahowne most myghty, maker on mold,
With this brande that I bere ye shall bytterly aby.
Say, wote ye not that I am pylate, perles to behold,?
Most doughty in dedys of dukys of the Iury;
In bradyng of batels I am the most bold,
Therfor my name to you will I dyscry,
No mys.
I am full of sotelty,
ffalshed, gyll, and trechery;
Therfor am I namyd by clergy
As mali actoris.
ffor like as on both sydys the Iren the hamer makith playn,
So do I, that the law has here in my kepyng;
The right side to socoure, certys, I am full bayn,
If I may get therby a vantege or wynyng;
Then to the fals parte I turne me agayn,
ffor I se more Vayll will to me be risyng;
Thus euery man to drede me shalbe full fayn,
And all faynt of thare fayth to me be obeyng,
Truly.
All fals endytars,
Quest-gangars, and Iurars,
And thise out-rydars
Ar welcom to me.
Bot this prophete, that has prechyd and puplyshed so playn
Cristen law, crist thay call hym in oure cuntre;
Bot oure prynces full prowdly this nyght haue hym tayn,
ffull tytt to be dampned he shall be hurlyd byfore me;
I shall fownde to be his freynd vtward, in certayn,
And shew hym fare cowntenance and wordys of vanyte;
Bot or this day at nyght on crosse shall he be slayn,
Thus agans hym in my hart I bere great enmyte
ffull sore.
ye men that vse bak-bytyngys,
and rasars of slanderyngys,
ye ar my dere darlyngys,
And mahowns for euermore.
ffor no thyng in this warld dos me more grefe
Then for to here of crist and of his new lawes;
To trow that he is godys son my hart wold all to clefe,
Though he be neuer so trew both in dedys and in sawes
Therfor shall he suffre mekill myschefe,
And all the dyscypyls that vnto hym drawes;
ffor ouer all solace to me it is most lefe,
The shedyng of cristen bloode, and that all Iury knawes,
I say you.
My knyghtys full swythe
Thare strengthes will thay kyth,
And bryng hym be-lyfe;
lo, where thay com now!
Primus Tortor
I haue ron that I swett / from sir herode oure kyng
With this man that will not lett / oure lawes to downe bryng;
he has done so mych forfett / of care may he syng;
Thrugh dom of sir pylate he gettys / an yll endyng
And sore;
The great warkys he has wroght
Shall serue hym of noght,
And bot thay be dere boght
lefe me no more.
Bot make rowme in this rese / I byd you, belyfe,
And of youre noys that ye sesse / both man and wyfe;
To sir pylate on dese / this man will we dryfe,
his dede for to dres / and refe hym his lyfe
This day;
Do draw hym forward!
whi stand ye so bakward?
Com on sir, hyderward,
As fast as ye may!
Secundus Tortor
Do pull hym a-rase / whyls we be gangyng;
I shall spytt in his face / though it be fare shynyng;
Of vs thre gettys thou no grace / thi dedys ar so noyng,
Bot more sorow thou hase / oure myrth is incresyng,
No lak.
ffelows, all in hast,
with this band that will last
Let vs bynde fast
Both his handys on his bak.
Tercius Tortor
I shall lede the a dawnce / Vnto sir pilate hall;
Thou betyd an yll chawnce / to com emangys vs all.
Sir pilate, with youre cheftance / to you we cry and call
That ye make som ordynance / with this brodell thrall,
By skyll;
This man that we led,
On crosse ye put to ded.
Pilate
what! with outten any red?
That is not my wyll;
Bot ye, wysest of law / to me ye be tendand:
This man withoutten awe / which ye led in a band,
Nather in dede ne in saw / can I fynd with no wrang,
wherfor ye shuld, hym draw / or bere falsly on hand
With ill.
ye say he turnes oure pepyll,
ye call hym fals and fekyll;
warldys shame is on you mekyll
This man if ye spyll.
Of all thise causes ilkon / which ye put on hym,
Herode, truly as stone / coud fynd with nokyns gyn
Nothyng herapon / that pent to any syn;
why shuld I then so soyn / to ded here deme hym?
Therfor
This is my counsell,
I will not with hym mell;
let hym go where he wyll
ffor now and euermore.
Primus Consultus
Sir, I say the oone thyng / without any mys,
he callys his self a kyng / ther he none is;
Thus he wold downe bryng / oure lawes, I-wys,
with his fals lesyng / and his quantys,
This tyde.
Pilate
herk, felow, com nere!
Thou knowes I haue powere
To excuse or to dampne here,
In bayll to abyde.
Jesus
Sich powere has thou noght / to wyrk thi will thus with me,
Bot from my fader that is broght / oone-fold god in persons thre.
Pilate
Certys, it is fallen well in my thoght / at this tyme, as well wote ye,
A thefe that any felony has wroght / to lett hym skap or go fre
Away;
Therfor ye lett hym pas.
Primus Tortor
Nay, nay, bot barabas!
And ihesus in this case
To deth ye dam this day.
Pilate
Syrs, looke ye take good hede / his cloysse ye spoyll hym fro,
ye gar his body blede / and bett hym blak and bloo.
Secundus Tortor
This man, as myght I spede / that has wroght vs this wo,
how "Iudicare" comys in crede / shall we teche, or we go,
All soyne.
haue bynd to this pyllar.
Tercius Tortor
why standys thou so far?
Primus Tortor
To bett his body bar
I haste, withoutten hoyne.
Secundus Tortor
Now fall I the fyrst / to flap on hys hyde.
Tercius Tortor
My hartt wold all to-bryst / bot I myght tyll hym glyde.
Primus Tortor
A swap fayn, if I durst / wold I lene the this tyde.
Secundus Tortor
war! lett me rub on the rust / that the bloode downe glyde
As swythe.
Tercius Tortor
haue att!
Primus Tortor
Take thou that!
Secundus Tortor
I shall lene the a flap,
My strengthe for to kythe.
Tercius Tortor
Where on seruys thi prophecy / thou tell vs in this case,
And all thi warkys of greatt mastry / thou shewed in dyuers place?
Primus Tortor
Thyn apostels full radly / ar run from the a rase,
Thou art here in oure baly / withoutten any grace
Of skap.
Secundus Tortor
Do, rug him.
Tercius Tortor
Do, dyng hym.
Primus Tortor
Nay, I myself shuld kyll hym
Bot for sir pilate.
Syrs, at the ffeste of architreclyn / this prophete he was;
Ther turnyd he water into wyn / that day he had sich grace,
his apostels to hym can enclyn / and other that ther was;
The see he past bot few yeres syn / it lete hym walk theron apase
At wyll;
The elementys all bydeyn,
And wyndes that ar so keyn,
The firmamente, as I weyn,
Ar hym obeyng tyll.
Secundus Tortor
A lepir cam full fast / to this man that here standys,
And prayed hym, in all hast / of bayll to lowse his bandys;
his trauell was not wast / though he cam from far landys;
This prophete tyll hym past / and helyd hym with his handys,
ffull blythe.
The son of Centuryon,
ffor whom his fader made greatt mone,
Of the palsy he helyd anone,
Thay lowfyd hym oft sythe.
Tercius Tortor
Sirs, as he cam from iherico / a blynde man satt by the way;
To hym walkand with many mo / cryand to hym thus can he say,
"Thou son of dauid, or thou go / of blyndnes hele thou me this day."
Ther was he helyd of all his wo / sich wonders can he wyrk all way
At wyll;
he rasys men from deth to lyfe,
And castys out devyls from thame oft sythe,
seke men cam to hym full ryfe,
He helys thaym of all yll.
Primus Tortor
ffor all thise dedys of great louyng / fower thyngys I haue fond certanly,
ffor which he is worthy to hyng: / oone is oure kyng that he wold be;
Oure sabbot day in his wyrkyng / he lettys not to hele the seke truly;
he says oure temple he shall downe bryng / and in thre daies byg it in hy
All hole agane;
Syr pilate, as ye sytt,
looke wysely in youre wytt;
Dam ihesu or ye flytt
On crosse to suffre his payne.
Pilate
Thou man that suffurs all this yll / Why Wyll thou Vs no mercy cry?
Slake thy hart and thi greatt wyll / whyls on the we haue mastry;
Of thy greatt warkes shew vs som skyll; / men call the kyng, thou tell vs why;
wherfor the Iues seke the to spyll / the cause I wold, knowe wytterly,
perdee;
Say what is thy name,
Thou lett for no shame,
Thay putt on the greatt blame,
Els myght [thou] skap for me.
Secundus Consultus
Syr pilate, prynce peerles / this is my red,
That he skap not harmeles / bot do hym to ded:
he cals hym a kyng in euery place / thus wold he ouer led
Oure people in his trace / and oure lawes downe tred
By skyll;
Syr, youre knyghtes of good lose,
and the pepyll with oone voce,
To hyng hym hy on a crosse
Thay cry and call you vntyll.
Pilate
Now certys, this is a wonder thyng / that ye wold bryng to noght
hym that is youre lege lordyng / In faith this was far soght;
Bot say, why make ye none obeyng / to hym that all has wroght?
Tercius Tortor
Sir, he is oure chefe lordyng / sir Cesar so worthyly wroght
On mold.
pylate, do after vs,
And dam to deth ihesus
Or to sir Cesar we trus,
And make thy frenship cold.
Pilate
Now that I am sakles / of this bloode shall ye see;
Both my handys in expres / weshen sall be;
This bloode bees dere boght I ges / that ye spill so frele.
Primus Tortor
we pray it fall endles / on vs and oure meneye,
with wrake.
Pilate
Now youre desyre fulfyll I shall;
Take hym emangs you all,
On crosse ye put that thrall,
his endyng ther to take.
Primus Tortor
Com on! tryp on thi tose / without any fenyng;
Thou has made many glose / with thy fals talkyng.
Secundus Tortor
we ar worthy greatte lose / that thus has broght a kyng
ffrom sir pilate and othere fose thus into oure ryng,
withoutt any hoyne.
Sirs, a kyng he hym cals,
Therfor a crowne hym befals.
Tercius Tortor
I swere by all myn elder sauls,
I shall it ordan soyne.
Primus Tortor
Lo! here a crowne of thorne / to perch his brane within,
putt on his hede with skorne / and gar thyrll the skyn.
Secundus Tortor
hayll kyng! where was thou borne / sich worship for to wyn?
we knele all the beforne / and the to grefe will we not blyn,
That be thou bold.
Now by mahownes bloode!
Ther will no mete do me goode
To he be hanged on a roode,
And his bones be cold.
Primus Tortor
Syrs, we may be fayn / ffor I haue fon a tree,
I tell you in certan / it is of greatt bewtee,
On the which he shall suffre payn / be feste with nales thre,
Ther shall nothyng hym gayn / ther on to he dede be,
I insure it;
Do, bryng hym hence.
Secundus Tortor
Take vp oure gere and defence.
Tercius Tortor
I wold spende all my spence
To se hym ones skelpt.
Primus Tortor
This cros vp thou take / and make the redy bowne;
Withoutt gruchyng thou rake / and bere it thrugh the towne;
Mary, thi moder, I wote will make / great mowrnyng and mone,
But for thy fals dedys sake / shortly thou salbe slone,
No nay;
The pepyll of bedlem,
and gentyls of Ierusalem,
All the comoners of this reme,
shall wonder on the this day.
John the Apostle
Alas! for my master moste of myght,
That yester euen with lanterne bright
before Caiphas was broght;
Both peter and I sagh that sight,
And sithen we fled away full wight,
when Iues so wonderly wroght;
At morne thay toke to red, And fals witnes furth soght,
And demyd hym to be dede, That to thaym trespaste noght,
Alas! for his modere and othere moo,
My moder and hir syster also,
Sat sam with syghyng sore;
Thay Wote nothyng of all this wo,
Therfor to tell thaym will I go,
Sen I may mend no more.
If he shuld dy thus tyte And thay vnwarned wore,
I were Worthy to wyte; I will go fast therfor.
God saue you, systers all in fere!
Dere lady, if thi will were,
I must tell tythyngys playn.
Mary
Welcom, Iohn, my cosyn dere!
how farys my son sen thou was here?
That wold I wyt full fayn.
John the Apostle
A, dere lady with youre leyff, The trouth shuld no man layn,
Ne with godys will thaym grefe.
Mary
whi, Iohn, is my son slayn?
John the Apostle
Nay lady, I saide not so,
Bot ye me myn he told vs two
And thaym that with vs wore,
how he with pyne shuld pas vs fro,
And efte shuld com vs to,
To amende oure syghyng sore;
It may not stand in stede To sheynd youre self therfore.
Mary Magdalene
Alas! this day for drede! Good Iohn, neven this no more!
Speke preualy I the pray,
ffor I am ferde, if we hir flay,
That she will ryn and rafe.
John the Apostle
The sothe behowys me nede to say,
he is damyd to dede this day,
Ther may no sorow hym safe.
Maria Jacobi
Good Iohn, tell vnto vs two What thou of hir will crafe,
And we will gladly go And help that thou it haue.
John the Apostle
Systers, youre mowrnyng may not amende;
And ye will ever, or he take ende,
Speke with my master free,
Then must ye ryse and with me weynd,
And kepe hym as he shall be kend
Withoutt yond same cyte;
If ye will nygh me nere, Com fast and felowe me.
Mary
A, help me, systers dere! That I my son may see.
Mary Magdalene
Lady, we wold weynd full fayn,
Hertely With all oure myght and mayn,
youre comforth to encrese.
Mary
Good Iohn, go before and frayn.
John the Apostle
Lo, where he commes vs euen agayn
with all yond mekyll prese!
All youre mowrnyng in feyr / may not his sorow sese.
Mary
Alas, for my son dere, / that me to moder chese!
Alas, dere son for care / I se thi body blede;
My self I will for-fare / for the in this great drede,
This cros on thi shulder bare / to help the in this nede,
I will it bere with greatt hart sare / wheder thay will the lede.
Jesus
This cros is large in lengthe / and also bustus with all;
If thou put to thi strengthe / to the erthe thou mon downe fall.
Mary
A dere son, thou let me / help the in this case!
Jesus
lo, moder, I tell it the / to bere no myght thou hase.
Mary
I pray the, dere son, it may so be / to man thou gif thi grace,
On thi self thou haue pyte / and kepe the from thi foyse.
Jesus
ffor sothe, moder, this is no nay / on cros I must dede dre,
And, from deth ryse on the thryd day / thus prophecy says by me;
Mans saull that I luffyd ay / I shall redeme securly,
Into blis of heuen for ay / I shall it bryng to me,
Mary Magdalene
It is greatt sorow to any wyght / Ihesus, to se with Iues keyn,
How he in dyuerse payns is dight / ffor sorow I water both myn eeyn.
Maria Jacobi
This lord that is of myght / dyd neuer yll truly,
Thise Iues thay do not right / if thay deme hym to dy.
Mary Magdalene
Alas! what shall we say! / ihesus that is so leyfe,
To deth thise Iues this day / thay lede with paynes full grefe.
Maria Jacobi
He was full true, I say / though thay dam hym as thefe,
Mankynde he lufed all way / for sorow my hart will clefe.
Jesus
ye doghters of Ierusalem / I byd you wepe nothyng for me,
Bot for youre self and youre barn-teme / behald I tell you securle,
Sore paynes ar ordand for this reme / in dayes herafter for to be;
youre myrth to bayll it shall downe streme / in euery place of this cyte.
Childer, certys, thay shall blys / women baren that neuer child bare,
And pappes that neuer gaf sowke, Iwys / thus shall thare hartys for sorow be sare;
The montayns hy and thise greatt hyllys / thay shall byd fall apon them thare,
ffor my bloode that sakles is / to shede and spyll thay will not spare.
Secundus Tortor
walk on, and lefe thi vayn carpyng / it shall not saue the fro thy dede,
wheder thise women cry or syng / for any red, that thay can red.
Tercius Tortor
Say wherto abyde we here abowte,
Thise qwenes with scremyng and with showte?
May no man thare wordys stere?
Primus Tortor
Go home, thou casbald, with that clowte!
Or, by that lord I leyfe and lowte,
Thou shall by it full dere!
Mary Magdalene
This thyng shall venyance call / on you holly in fere.
Secundus Tortor
Go, hy the hens with all / or yll hayll cam thou here!
Tercius Tortor
let all this bargan be / syn all oure toyles ar before;
This tratoure and this tre / I wold, full fayn were thore.
Primus Tortor
It nedys not hym to harll / this cros dos hym greatt dere,
Bot yonder commys a carll / shall help hym for to bere.
Secundus Tortor
That shall we soyn se on assay.
herk, good, man, wheder art thou on away?
Thou walkes as thou were wrath.
Symon
Syrs, I haue a greatt Iornay
That must be done this same day,
Or els it will me skathe.
Tercius Tortor
Thou may with lytyll payn / easse hym and thi self both.
Symon
Good syrs, that wold I fayn / bot for to tary were full loth.
Primus Tortor
Nay, nay! thou shall full soyn be sped;
lo here a lad, that must be led,
ffor his yll dedys to dy,
And he is bressed and all for bled,
That makys vs here thus stratly sted;
we pray the, sir, for-thi,
That thou will take this tre / bere it to caluary.
Symon
Good sirs, that may not be / ffor full greatt haste haue I,
No longere may I hoyn.
Secundus Tortor
In fayth thou shall not go so soyn
ffor noght that thou can say
This dede must nedys be done,
And this carll be dede or noyn,
And now is nere myd day;
And therfor help vs at this nede / and make vs here no more delay.
Symon
I pray you do youre dede / and let me go my way;
And I shall com full soyn agane,
To help this man with all my mayn,
At youre awne wyll.
Tercius Tortor
what and wold, thou trus with sich a trane?
Nay fatur, thou shall be full fayn,
This forward to fulfyll;
Or, by the myght of mahowne! / thou shall lyke it full yll.
Primus Tortor
Tytt, let dyng this dastard downe / bot he lay hand ther tyll.
Symon
Certys, that were vnwysely wroght,
To beytt me bot if I trespast oght
Aythere in worde or dede.
Secundus Tortor
Apon thi bak it shall be broght,
Thou berys it wheder thou will or noght!
Dewyll! whom shuld we drede?
And therfor take it here belyfe / And bere it furth, good spede.
Symon
It helpys not here to strife / bere it behoues me nede;
And therfor, syrs, as ye haue sayde,
To help this man I am well payde,
As ye wold that it were.
Tercius Tortor
A, ha! now ar we right arayde,
bot loke oure gere be redy grade,
To wyrk when we com there.
Primus Tortor
I warand all redy / oure toyles both moore and les,
And sir symon truly / gose on before with cros.
Tercius Tortor
Now by mahowne, oure heuen kyng,
I wold that we were in that stede
where we myght hym on cros bryng.
Step on before, and furth hym lede
A trace.
Primus Tortor
Com on thou!
Secundus Tortor
Put on thou!
Tercius Tortor
I com fast after you,
And folowse on the chace.


2022 Jan 21  20:05:23