Vindicta salvatoris : mittelenglisches gedicht des 13. jahrhunderts / ed. Rudolf Fischer. Titus and Vespasian (Middle English poem) Fischer, Rudolf Bruno, 1866- 31 pages, ca. 194 kb University of Michigan Library Ann Arbor, Michigan 2018 CME00072 04074256 BAU9494

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 Archiv für das studium der neueren sprachen und literaturen / ed. Alois Brandl and Heinrich Morf. The article appeared in two parts: vol. 111 (1903), p. [285]-298 ; vol. 112 (1904), p. [25]-45. [35] p. ; 23 cm. Braunschweig George Westermann 1903-1904 Title from email of 2000-03-08 ; description based on email note. Corpus of Middle English.

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72 CME00072 CME00072 Vindicta Salvatoris. Mittelenglisches Gedicht des 13. Jahrhunderts, zum erstenmal herausgegeben von Rudolf Fischer. Goddes men, vnderstondeþ nowe, And I schal ȝou telle, howe The Jewes dude Jesu to dede. Thoruȝ feble counseil and false rede Thei were in so gret combraunce, Therfor þei had al myschaunce: That he hem had byfore hiȝt, And þei toke hit al to lyȝt. But siþþe hit fel on her necke, Thei nolde noon of oþer recke. Ȝitte fourty ȝeer he ȝaue hem space, Ȝif þei wolde seke any grace. To be avengyd wolde he noȝt sende, Ȝif þei wold hem amende. Thre þingges þer were in Israel: Whiche þei were, herkeneþ now wel, As in storye we mowe fynde, That byfel on þe Jewes kynde. The first was cleped pilgrimage, That oþer þraldom and seruage; Dysperacioun þe þridde was tolde, That is to rewyng of younge and of olde. Thus byganne her pylgrimage: Tho Jacob went wiþ his lynage Into Egypt for mochel nede, Thei lyued þer long in sorowe and in drede, Tho Jacob myȝt no lenger lyue, His kynde was out of londe ydryue Thoruȝ þe reed see, as ȝe haue herde; Ther Pharao and his folk forferde. Moyses was her leder þan Into þe londe of Chanaan. That was þe londe, þat þo hiȝte; Ther he kept him wel a plyȝte. Wiþ aungels mete he fedde hem, And her cloþes lasted withoutten wem Fourty ȝeer in desert: That was a myracule fayre apert. Ȝitte for al his curtesye Thei wrouȝtte aȝen him gret folye, Thei made goddes of metalle And honoured hem with worshipp alle. Tho þei ȝelde Jesu his goodenys With wel mochel vnkyndenys. Nowe schal I towche of her seruage, That euer schal last þe worldes age; Schul þei neuer dwelle in towne Wiþout trewage oþer raunsoune. In Babylon first þis þraldome In her former-faders come; Ther þei dwelled fyfty ȝeer, Or þei myȝt go quyte and cleer. The fyfty ȝeer was her solace, So hit is nowe þe ȝeer of grace; Than þei were let out of pryson, So is þat oure ȝeer of gret pardon. Dysperacioun was þat þirdde þing Of þe Jewes kynde to rewyng. That now is falle in þis cas; Thoruȝ Waspasian and Tytus he was, As Jesu seid þoruȝ prophecye: I schal hem delyuer for her enuye; Vnder lordshippe and suche honde There schulle þei dwelle, I vnder∣stonde, Wiþout scapyng of prison, For gold ne for raunson, For no mercy quyte for to wende Hennes to þe worldes ende. Mesure ne mercy was none in hem, Suche schal þei haue and al her tem. For Marye sone þei forsoke, That was ryȝt eyer, so seiþ þe boke. For Marye come of þat lynage, That he schuld bere þe herytage. Of þis chaunce was spoke and founde, Or hit felle, a longe stounde. The noble clerk master Josephus Amonge þe Jewes seid þus: The day wolle come, þat þis towne schal falle And þe Jewes confunded alle. This cytee schal be ouerthrowe, And þe hiȝe palyce schal lye fulle lowe. Messyas schal send ȝou amonge Sorowe and shame and werre stronge. Fro Rome schal come princes two, The fader and þe sone also; And þei destroye al, þat þei fynde In þis towne, al þe Jewes kynde. This schal falle for her werkys, Take þei neuer so wel þe merkys. For þei slowe Jesu Crist, ywys, That boþ goddes sone and Maryes ys. And þis ryȝtfulle iugement But þei come to amendement, The fader schal gete such honoure, That he schal be Emperoure. Anoþer tyme wytnesseþ ȝe, For þen ȝe schul þe soþe se. Thus he wrote in a boke, Ther þei myȝt þeron al day loke. Affter Jesu deþ come wonders þicke, Fayre and foule, good and wycke. And siþþe þei slowe þe ȝounge seynt Jame, For he preched Cristes name; Seuene ȝeer after his deþ Dyed James in þat stede; For whiche deþ god was wroþ þo, For to amende hem he sent him to Wiþ counselle, bedes and prechyng In token of þe first warnyng. For þei dude him to dye— Me þinkeþ, hit was no courtesye; For hit was þe hiȝest trespas, That euer on erþe ymaked was. For hit is no skylle, rewþe to haue Of hem, þat wolle noȝt hemself saue. For we ouȝt to make game, That hem byfelle so mochel shame. Jesu hit grauntte for his mercy, That eche synnefulle man mowe be quyte þerby. God sent þus James to Jerusalem, As byfore was seid, to preche hem, To repente hem of her synne, That þei were acombred ynne. And so he dude alwey; For he spared noȝt, þe soþe to sey. He waxe so gret of renowne, That þei made him bysshopp of þe towne. He was a man of gret penaunce, He dude his body gret greuaunce; He wered neuer neiþer wollyn ne lynen cloþ; Neiþer ete brede, fysshe, ne flesshe, forsoþ. † For changyng, wasshyng, ne baþing, But a gowne of heer to his cloþing, And kneled to god so alwey For þe peple, nyȝt and day, Wiþ his bare kneys vppon a stoon, That þe skynne wyxe harde þeron, That his kneys semyd byforne As camels knees, þat beþ of horne. This come to him of fulle gret cha∣ryte, That þei myȝt þe better haue be. Wycked þei were euer and eke þan, And þat þei kydde on þat man. Hit was on Paske day, The Jewes gaderd with gret deray And sent þus to seynt Jame Al in ernyst and wiþ grame: 'Out of þis countre, boþ fer and nere, Muche folke wol be here, And we þe byddeþ, speke no þing In no maner in þi prechyng, A ȝeyn oure lawe, of Jesus, Ȝif þou wylt haue þe loue of vs. For ȝif þe folke after þi sawe Thoruȝ þi prechyng fro vs drawe, Mochel pyne schalt þou haue; The gret god schal þe noȝt saue.' Thei badde him despyce Jesu, Whan he preched of his vertu. And ȝif he preched hem wel byfore, He preched þo mochel þe more. And as he preched on a day In þe temple aȝens her lay, One wente to him, þere he stood, And drowe him adowne, as he were wood. Anoþer toke a fullyng-staffe And on þe heed þerwiþ him ȝaue; He smote him þere with so gret mayn, That in þe temple he shadde his brayn. Thus þei ȝelde him þer his meed For his trauaylle and his good∣heed. Tho fele aros vp, þat loued Jame, To take þis men, þat dude him shame. Than as blyue out þei went, That no man myȝt hem anhent. But he abode þe gret veniaunce For Cristes deþ and for þis chaunce. Alwey þei were yliche wycke, Tyl þe wreche come to the prycke. For goddes ryȝt wol no wronge To dampne hem to pyne stronge, Tho þat wold James socoure. Thei buryed his body with moche honoure. The Jewes cleped him none oþer Noȝt but Jesu Cristes broþer. Of body, of face and of feet He was yliche him euer ȝit. For þe first token he was ysent, To turne þe peple was his entent. Lysteneþ nowe, I wol ȝou telle, Of wonders now I may ȝou spelle. That oþer token, þat come þer þan, That amonge þe Jewes shewe I can. Thei were ygaderd at a feste, All þe Jewes, boþ lest and mest. The rychest were þere of þat cytee, And also fele of þe countree. For a morowe, whan þei dude aryse Thei dude to her goddes sacryfice, So þat no þing schuld hem greue; And so byfel hem, as þei beleue For þe pride, þat þei were ynne And acombred were in synne. At þe fest ros suche a stryffe, That eueryche slowe oþer wiþ his knyffe. Thrytty þousand þere were ysleyn, That made many a Jewe vnfeyn. The þirdde token next was þis, And aȝens kynde hit felle ywys: To þe temple an heyfer was brouȝt, That to sacrifyce was ysouȝt; That sodeynlyche amonge hem alle, Or men wyst, hit gan downe falle; Ther come out of þe bestes wombe In stedde of a calf þer come a lombe; And þat abashyd al, þat þer stoode, That þei were wel nyȝe woode. The fourþe token fel on a nyȝt: In þe temple was suche a lyȝt, That al þe Jewes, þat hit say, Wende, hit had be lyȝt of day— On Paske day within þe niȝt Aboute þe four þe houre fulle ryȝt. As I redde of þis cas, This þe fyfte token was: Anoþer nyȝt hit byfel at cokkes crowe, That þe ȝates gune vp to blowe, That were wiþ yern ynayled and sperred fast, Wiþ suche a dynne þei vp tobrast, That þoruȝ þe towne was suche a dynne, So þat þei wende, þer were þer∣ynne, That þe walles had be adowne, That inclosed al þe towne. The sixte token was, þei herde a crye In þe temple al an hye, That seid: 'Go we hen, go we hen'; Al þei hit herde and noȝt ne seyn. That was vppon Wytsonday Wiþynne eue, telle I may. The prestes come þe temple to, As þei were woned to do, For to do her seruyce. But ful sone hem ganne agryse For þat crye, þat þei herde byfore. Thei flowe out al anoon þerfor. The seuenþ token: after þat crye The se a sterre in þe skye; Sharppe as a swerd hit hynge, The poynt downe, ryȝt as a strenge. So longe it hynge, tyl hit was day, That al þe cytee hit wel say. And so hit hynge þere al a ȝeer, Alwey hit semed ylyche neer. The eiȝt toke siþþe þer come Ouer þe cytee of Jerusalom: Thei se in þe ayer fer aboue Men and hors yarmed howe, That som tyme fauȝt and som tyme rest: What hit bytokened, ofte þei kyst. Thei seid, hit bytokened werre strong. Manqualme eiþer hungere long. Thei seyde so ther, þan þei wende; Ȝitte þouȝt þei noȝt to amende. Had þei yturned þo to penaunce, Thei myȝt haue scaped þe gret veniaunce. The nynþe token after þis Ȝe schulle yhere, whiche hit is: Chares and waynes also þei say Comyng in clowdes, hem þouȝt ay Riȝt now, þouȝ þei hit sawe; And or þei hit wyst, hit was awey yblowe. The tenþe token was þe last, And þat made þe Jewes sore agast. The fourþe þat þe sege bygan: Of Jude þer was bore a man, One Jesu, Ananyes sone, For al þe Jewes nold he shone. Tho on a Witsonday, Whan þe Jewes made her play For to make ioye mest, As hit byfelle to þe fest, He stoode vp amonge hem alle, And vppon þis worlde he gan to calle: 'Fro est and west in to al þis werde By souþe and norþe; I herde, Fro þe foure wyndes a voyce þer come Vppon þe cytee of Jerusalom And on her temple for þe gret synne And on þe peple, þat were þerynne. Me þinkeþ, þat hit bytoke may, That vs wol byfalle a gret afray. Come, when hit schalle; Ful sore I drede of þat falle. Thus hit mette me in a visyon, What schulde byfalle of þis towne.' Tho þe Jewes toke him for þis And bete him and bounde him hard, ywys. Byfore Pylate þei brouȝt þis man, And as he seid, raþer he seid þan; Tho þei bete him fele at onys, That þei myȝt se his bonys, Neþeles for al þat cas He cryed: 'Jerusalom, alas, alas!' Of þis crye myȝt no man him stynte For betyng, þretyng, of no dynte, But alwey seid þus in one; Than þei suffred him to go. Thei myȝt noȝt him wiþholde, But alwey seid, as he raþer tolde. Of þise tokenes had þei none awe, But euer meyntened her false lawe. Of her synne wolde þei noȝt knowe, What so euer þei herde or sawe, In towne, in felde, ne in oþer place; For þei had no better grace. Neþeles her lawe byganne to blynne, The newe lawe to bygynne, Tho Jesus on þe rode his heed downe leyde, And 'Consummatum est' þan he seide. This betokeneþ: 'þe olde lawe is nowe went, And þe newe I haue ȝou sent, And my purpos is brouȝt to ende For loue of man, þat is my frende.' Her owne bokes wytnessed þis, Thei were þe more to blame, ywys. For al þingges, þat þere were doon, Pylate let wryte hem anoon. And þat was siþþe aȝens her kynde, As men in þe story mowe fynde. Whan seynt Helyne þe crosse fonde Siþþe in þat ylke londe, Longe aȝens hyr þei hit forsoke, Tyl sche ouercome hem by her boke. Whan god had þise tokenes sent, Ȝitte wold þei noȝt hem repente, Ne onys mercy þei ne bysouȝt; For þei Jesu to deþ brouȝt, But al his werkes was in veyn, For al þe tokenes, þat þei had seyn. Thei þat wol no mercy craue, Thei ben none worþi nowe to haue. Thei dude gret foly to stryue wiþ hym, That kepeþ þe soule, lyffe and lym. The erþen vessel lasteþ noȝt To hurtel wiþ þilke, þat of metal is wrouȝt; No more may manys kynde fiȝt A ȝeyns þe power of god almyȝt. Lette we nowe þe Jewys dwelle. He begynneþ þe wreche to telle To Syr Waspasian, That was a swyþe noble man. In meselrye so depe he him cast, That body and face foule tobrast, And in his nose a cankyr smote, That boþ his lyppes hit al tobote. And for no cost, þat he couþe leye, He sawe none oþer, but nedys he muste dye. Neþeles waspes þer byfore Were in his nose, whan he was bore; Out of þe nose þei hem fedde, Heed and wyng out þei spredde. And for þe waspes þei cleped him þus His ryȝt name Waspasianus. For þo was no name ȝyue, Tyl þat men se, þat a childe schulde lyue. Of þise waspes his name he toke, As we finde writte in boke. This messanger god him sent, That al his body hit ouerwent; Fele ȝeres hit on him leste, Tyl god wold, hit were him reste; For ȝe wyteþ ful wel alle: Of al þingges, þat schuld byfalle Fro þe begynnyng of þe dome, He haþ yset, whan þei schul come, In werkes, weders, in al kynde, Thoruȝ holy wrytte as we fynde. The reson I ȝou telle can, Why god sent þis on þis man. God doeþ no þing withoutte skylle, Who so vnderstoode his wylle; Riȝt as þe Jewes with false rede Dude Jesu Crist to dede, Of heuene, erþe and of helle That weldeþ al þat þerin dwelle. As god is lord of all þingges, So is þe Emperoure kyng of kyngges. And also londes þoruȝ resoun Beþ at his subieccioun. For by skylle hit was ykest: To awreke Jesu him bycome best. The grettest lord in erþe ryȝt Come to awreke god almyȝt. And so he dude fayre and wel— I schal ȝou shewe euery del. Ȝit had he noȝt þe empire in honde, But sone after by goddes sonde. The yuel was on him so ranke, That on his folke so foule he stanke, That out fro al his men þo he fley; And he had a chambre swyþe nye: Vnneþe his men for þe stynke Miȝt to him brynge mete oþer drynke; Wiþ a vyse þei turned in his mete, What þat he schuld any ete. And þus in his bedde þer he lay, He myȝt noȝt out, nyȝt ne day, Tyl tyme come at þe last, That Jesu him wolde outcast. Al yvels comeþ þoruȝ goddes sonde And so dude þis, I vnderstonde. As þe Seuene Sages vs telle And as clerkes in þe story can spelle, When þat Jesu dyed amonges vs, Tho was Emperoure Tyberyus. Of douȝtynes he had fame, And þerfor men wrote þus his name. For in his tyme Jesu deyde, As men hit haþ wel aspyed; In his tyme of his eiȝt ȝere Jesu Crist toke his deþ here. Of Rome he bare þe dignite, Thre and þretty ȝeer regned he. In his tyme þe Jewes sent A letter endyted by one assent. Therin þei wrytten Syr Pylate, His gret pryde to abate. For hem þouȝt, in werke and in sawe That he trespassed aȝenst þe lawe. Of his mysberyng þei wrote þus To þe Emperoure Syr Tyberyus: That he ȝaue counselle aȝen þe pees, To sle þe childe al gyltlees; And in þe temple with gret outrages Of false goddes set vp ymages; And of her temple þe tresoure, That was yoffred with honoure, Wiþout al her one assent In his owne nedys he hit spent. He made a condyte meruayllouse, With a pype comyng in to his house; And oþer fele wycked outrages He dude aȝens her vsages. And þoruȝ þise sondes and þis pleynt In þise defautes he was ateynt. He was yordayned to be exile For þe trespasse, þat was so vyle. And of þis Pylate herde telle, That he myȝt noȝt þere dwelle; He ordayned a wel ryche present, And wiþ his letter he hit sent. That was endyted ful wel and harde, As ȝe mowe here afterwarde. Affter him regned Syr Gayus And after him Syr Claudius And siþþe Nero, þat cursed soule, That slowe boþ Peter and Poule. And after him come Waspasian, That was a ryȝt worshipful man. God graunted him þoruȝ his sonde To wreke his deþ wiþ his honde. Of Gallyce and of Gaskoyne þe kyngdome Was his, or he þider come. Ȝit þe story telleþ me þus: He had a sone, þat hyte Tytus. In þe cytee of Burdexe on a day Tytus out at a wyndowe lay; And as he loked in þe see-streem, A shippe þer come fro Jerusalem, He se, where þat þe shippe went In þe see, as Crist hit sent. Anoon he sent þider a messanger To come to him, þat þerin were. The master come byfore his kne. 'Felawe', quod he, 'wel þe be!' 'Felawe', he seid, 'what hattyst þou, And fro whennys comyst þou nowe?' 'Syr', he seid, 'I hette Nathaan; Of Jude I am ybore man. Leue Syr, he seid, telleþ me, Wheþer I nowe at Rome be.' 'Nay', quod Tytus wiþout lesyng, 'This is Burdexe in Gaskoyne; Here fro hennys to Rome, soþe to say, Men holdeþ hit a wel ferre way. Haue ydo and telle me sone, What þou hast at Rome to done.' 'Syr, þider me haþ sende Syr Py∣late, And þe wynde me haþ ydryfe a noþer gate; To Tyberius was his sonde, To bere him trewage of oure londe.' 'Felawe', he seid, 'Tyberius is deed. There haþ ybe siþþe two in his stedde; Neþelees, my leue frende Nathaan, I schal do brynge þe to þat man. Vppon my costage I schal fonde, That haþ þe empyre in his honde; For vs, I hope, and for oure letter, That þou schalt spede wel þe better. In couenaunt nowe shewe þou me That, howe my fader hool myȝt be Of al yuels, þat he greueþ. For we hopen and þeron beleueþ, The men, þat in þat countre woneþ, Of al maner yuels hele þei konneþ Oþer wiþ grasse or wiþ stoon And wiþ oþer medycines many one.' 'Syr' he seid, 'I am no leche, But nowe of one I can ȝou teche, That hette Jesu of Nazareth; The Jewes dude him to þe deth.' He tolde him þe despyte a plyȝt, That Jesu þoled deþ þer with vnryȝt. 'He was a prophete over alle, He seid tofore, what schuld by∣falle; He clansed men of yvels and of synne Wiþ his worde, þat lyueþ him ynne; He reryd to lyue Lazar, þe knyȝt, That foure dayes lay dede a plyȝt.' Al he tolde him of Jesu dede, As men in godspel ywrytte doþ rede, And of his deþ and of his vpryst, And of his apostels, þat he wyst; After þat fourty dayes were went And howe þe holy gost to hem he sent; Ten and sixty languages were yherde, That þei of her master lered; He badde hem go into eueryche londe To preche his name þoruȝ his sonde; Of all yuels he gaue hem myȝt To hele þe syke, þat belyued aryȝt; And þei, þat wol noȝt to him wende, Schulle be lore withouten ende. Jesu wote wel, fele of hem lyue, In what londe þat þei be dryue. 'I am syker and I byleue, That none yuel schal þi fader greue, That, ȝif he wylle lyue aryȝt, I dare him byhote heel a plyȝt.' His faders stywarde Velosian That was a wel trusty man, He stoode and herde her wordes alle, And fayn he wold, hit myȝt be∣falle. Thei toke and ȝaue him his mede, And to þe Emperoure þei dude him lede. Syr Nero þat was a cursed man, That slowe himself euyn so þan. Tho he had himself ysleyne, The court of Rome was ful feyne. Anoon þei chosse Waspasian, To be her Emperoure þere þan For þe noblyst man of þe werde And next of blode, as ȝe haue herde. After þat Nathaan was come and go, Hit was two ȝeer, or hit were ydo. Thus felle hit for þis wonder-cas. For al, þat knewe him, more and las, Made gret moone for his sykenys; Ryȝt as god wold, so hit is: A fayre auenture, þat he schuld amende His empire to defende. But þei hoped, and wel þei kyste, His sone schuld do hit at þe beste. Nathaan come to þe Emperoure And shewed his nedes wiþ honoure; He brouȝt trewage of fele ȝeer And Pilatus letter, as ȝe mowe here: 'Syr, I grete þe as my frende. Vnderstonde, þat I þe sende: I haue parseyued and proued wel Of Jesu Crystes deþ somdel; What wonders haþ siþþe yfalle In Jerusalem amonge hem alle. The olde Jewes to her kynde hiȝt, That Crist schuld to þe erþe alyȝt Into a mayden of her kynde, As we mowe in bokes fynde. Of a mayde he schulde be bore, That þe peple were noȝt forlore. And seid, of hem he schuld be kyng And of al her offspryng. And so he come, as he seide, And aȝens him al þei gune pleyde, The prophete whan þat he seid him to, As her elders had ydo. And for he wiþtoke hem in her lawe, Thei wreþed with him for his sawe; Al þat he seid, þei toke in vayn. Thus þei helde him longe agayn, So þat þei toke him at þe last And bete him and bounde him fast. And þei come and delyuered him to me And dampned him to honge on tre. And aȝenst hem derst I noȝt be, But ȝif I wolde of londe fle. I satte as justice in domes stedde, I fonde no gylte in his dede. Ryche Jewes ȝaue vp þe tale And made him gylty, boþ gret and smalle. I dradde and leued þe commynte, And I durste noȝt aȝens hem be. And ȝit in him fonde I no gylt, Wherfor þat he schuld be spylt. In my pretorye and in my mote∣halle The princes of þe Jewes alle Ther þei ȝeue vp þe dome, That, while I wolde, hit had be vn∣done. For he dude none oþer wycke, But shewed wonders, fele and þicke: Dombe to speke and blynde to se, Deffe to here, fendes to fle, From wodenys many one And crocked men also to goen. And many myracules dude þat man, Mo þan I ȝou telle can. Wherfor, Syr, wiþout reson, Haueþ noȝt me in suspeccyon, That hit was none oþer wey, Whatsoeuer þe Jewes sey. Perauente so hit may be, This werke þei wolle put vppon me. Hit was her dede and al her þouȝt, And þerfor, Syr, leue hem noȝt. Hit was her dede and noȝt myn, That wol I proue by al her kyn. Thei buryed him and dude him kepe Wiþ her knyȝttes, þat fell aslepe. And þe þrydde day he aros, Almyȝtty kyng amonge his foes. The knyȝttes þo come home anoon And seid, he was ryse and goon. Thei gaue þe knyȝttes gret mede þo To sey, he was ystole hem fro And þei myȝt noȝt him wiþholde; Wher þei come, þat þei hit ne tolde, Al þe soþe and þe cas Of þis prophete, al how hit was. I haue ywryte gret and smalle, That to þis mater toucheþ alle, So þat of him þe storye Euer may lest in memorye. Holdeþ me nowe exscused herby For any tale or any cry.' He was neuer þe better exscused þan, Neiþer aȝens god, ne man. For al his feiþ was went, And þouȝt noȝt in hert to amende. He myȝt noȝt him exscuse in no wyse Of þat ylke false Jewyse. For many fayre miracules he sey And himself witnesseþ ay, And Joseph warned him of Arma∣thye, And Nichodemus wiþ curtesye, And also dude Centurio And fele oþer men and wymen also. That þing, þat Jesu dude euerydel, Was trewly ido and eke wel. Naþeles he toke al to lyȝt, That he schuld be god almyȝt. He was ywarned be his wyffe, That he ne rafte Jesu his lyffe. The fende badde hyr by a vysioun, That he lette Jesu passioun. Boþ fende and man god ablent, So þat þe prophecyes forþwent. Wotyst þou, why he dude so? That his deþ schuld forþgo. Elles þe fende wolde haue had alle, That had euer in synne falle. But Jesu þe deþ he dude chese, That he manys soule wold noȝt lese. And any man be, þat haþ noȝt herde, Howe Pylate come into þis werde: Hit was a kyng, þat hyte Tyrus Of Spayne, I vnderstond þus. A mylwardes douȝtter of þat londe He lay by hyr, I vnderstonde. Sche hyte Pyla and hyr fader Atus, Hyr sone was siþþe marveylous. Pylatus þei cleped him þo After hem boþ two. The kyng on his wyf dere Gat a sone þe self ȝeere. This Pyla siþþe brouȝt home hyr sone Wiþ his fader, þe kyng, to wone. Thyse children were togeder long, Tyl þei were bygge and strong. In al dedes þoruȝ kynde Pylatus was alwey behynde; And þis greued Pylatus sore, And so he slowe þe child þerfore. Whan þe kyng hit herde, dule he made; To sle Pylatus his men him badde. The kyng wold noȝt do by her rede, But he sent Pylatus into anoþer stedde, That he schuld, by lawe and by dome, Eche ȝeer a child send to Rome. So þouȝt þe kyng by his sonde: 'Howe may I best delyuere myn honde?' In trewage he sent forþ þis chance; In trewage also þe kyng of France To Rome also he sent his sone; And he and Pylate togeder dude wone. The kyngges sone was euer praysed More þan Pylatus and euer upreysed For ientyl þewys and curtesye; Therof Pylatus had euer enuye. In a preuy stedde togeder þei drowe, And þer þe kyngges sone he slowe. The Romaynes toke her counselle þo, What þei myȝt with him do. Byfore he slowe his owne broþer, And now he haþ ysleyn a noþer. One spake of þat assemble: 'Wycked and felle man he schal be; He wolle be mody man of þewys, To adauntten many schrewys. For he haþ do to deþ tweyne, He were worþi to dye in peyne. Nowe I can ȝeue no better rede, But sende him in a noþer stedde, Into Poynttes, þat wycked ile, To abate his blode so vyle, To kepe þat wycket countre. The folke is felle and so is he. Oþer he schal be ouercome, Oþer he schal be sone ynome; And þerin he schal be ȝelde The peynes, þat he þerto schulde.' Thei sent him wiþ commissioun To holde þat ile in his bandoun. Wiþ peynes and wiþ ȝyftes Al þe ile at wylle he shyftes. He dude her pryde to abate, And men cleped him Pounce Pylate. He was ykydde so queyntte with pryde Thoruȝ þe ile in euery syde, That men dradde him, boþ ferre and nere, For to come out of his daungere. Herodes herde of his fame, Of his queyntyse and of his name. He sent him ȝiftes and messangers, To come to him in al maners. Forþ anoon to him he come Into þe citee of Jerusalome. He made him justice of þat countre, That nowe men clepeþ Jude. He preyed him longe with him to dwelle, For þei were boþ felle. But Pylatus waxed ryche þanne Of þe tresoure, þat he wanne. And for þei parted noȝt her wyn∣nyng boþ, Therfor Herodes waxe fulle wroþ. And so þei lyued in ire an ende, Tyl Crist come þoruȝ þis holy sonde And was ytake and to Herodes went, As Pylatus þider him sent. And þus þei waxed boþ dere, As ȝe mowe in passioun here. Everyche man, þat lyueþ in hate, May be lyckened to Pylate, That wysshe his hondes and noȝt his hert; And þat made him siþþe smert. Ȝit smerte noȝt Pylate aloon, But þe Jewes euerychoon. For þei badde, his bloode schuld falle On hem and on her childern alle. I schal ȝou shewe, þat is soþ, Eueryche fryday so hit doþ: A fluxe of bloode comeþ hem on And hem holdeþ, tyl þe day be don; And namely on þe Goodfryday Wel harder, þan þei haueþ ay. Than þei haueþ hit þoruȝ þe ȝeere, And þat day dar þei noȝt outstere. But whan þei turneþ to cristen lawe, Then begynneþ þe euyl to wiþdrawe. That yuel schal no more hem greue, As longe as þei ben in good byleue. By þis token þei beþ cleen: This is a fayre miracule, as I wene. For al, þat wol him mercy craue, Good mercy schul þei haue. Also myȝt Syr Pylate, But he abode to longe and bad to late; Therfor he abouȝt hit ful dere, As ȝe schul after hure. God come to seche, þat was ylore, To glade þilke, þat greued were. Lucyfer first and siþþe Adam Made, þat [he] to erþe come. For he wold þoruȝ his grace Fulfylle al þat empty place, Fro whenys þat þe aungel felle Into þe deppyst pytte of helle. For Adam and al his kynde He wold haue þider, as we fynde, For to bere hem companye. This gyle god gan to aspye And þe fende awan, And for þis skylle god bycome man And dyed vppon þe rodetre, For to make vs al fre. And siþþe arose and helle he barst, And his owne out he cast And ladde hem vp to ioye þo. In helle god lette come no mo But wycked gostes, to kepe þat stedde, And þo þat dude Jesu to dede. We may se, god was oure frende. Aȝeyn to þe story we wol wende. Tho Nathaan had his erande ydo, 'Sir', he seid, 'ȝeueþ me leue to go; The day is goen, soþ to sayen, That I schuld have be at home agayn. I have be let by þe wey; Therfor I wote not, what is best to sey.' 'No', quod Nero, 'drede þe no del, I schal exscuse þe fayre and wel.' In his letter he dude wryte, Hym to wytnesse and to quyte Of al, þat felle, siþþe he out went; And of þe tresoure, þat Pylate sent, He ȝaue him ȝiftes gret also And þerwiþ his leue to go. Then went home Nathaan. Nowe hereþ of Syr Waspasian. Siþþe byþouȝt Velosyan, What Tytus had herd of Nathaan. Of his lord he had gret care And sore byment him of his fare. Byfore his lord he gan downe falle And tolde to him Nathaans wordes alle. Tytus vppon a day and he Rehersed þis, as ȝe mowe se. For rewþe of him he gan to wepe And seid, he wold his bales bete, Thouȝ he schulde of his body take, Ȝif he wyste his peyne to slake. 'For lyffe ne deþ nyl I reche, To wende wel ferre þe bote to feche. For Tytus and I þis oþer day Herde wordes to oure pay. Syr, hereþ me nowe, and I wolle ȝou telle, What in Cesaris tyme byfelle. Ther was a prophete in Jude, þat preched in þat countre. Of al sykenys þe peple he heled, And þus þe Jewes wiþ him deled. He hit dude of gret curtesye, And toward him þei had enuye. One of discipules his traytoure was, A wycked þeef, þat hyte Judas. His master to þe Jewes he solde For þirtty pens, þat þei him tolde. That ylke þeef himself he hynge Vppon a tre wiþ a strenge. His grace was no better to spede, For he dude þat wycked dede. And þan þe Jewes with feloun rede Dude þat good man to þe dede Byfore þe justice Syr Pylate, A false traytoure, al for hate. Wiþ wronge, al at a voys, Thei nayled him vppon þe croys. He dyed and arose þe þirrde day; That deþ we mowe rewe ay. Ȝif he had lyued and forþ went, Ȝit myȝt we after him haue sent, And þoruȝ him we myȝt al hole haue be. Loke here on, whedyr is noȝt þis gret pyte? Syr, was he noȝt to blame, That dude him gyltles to shame? This prophete þei dude to þe deþ, That hyte Jesu of Nazareth. And al þis nyȝt me mette a dreem, That I was at Jerusalem. Me þouȝt, I stode wytterly Besyde þe temple of kyng Davy, And þere boþ I herde and say Many þingges to my pay. And ȝif ȝe wol do after me, I schal wende to þat cyte, And bryng ȝou tydyng, ȝif I can, Ȝif I myȝt ouȝt fynde of þat man, Ȝif ouȝt of him myȝt be founde, That myȝt þe make hole and sounde, And þere, Syr, speke I wolde Wiþ Syr Pylate, þe traytoure bolde. He is justice, and long haþ be, Of Jerlem, þe ryche cyte. Ȝif he aske, whenys I come, I schal say: ryȝt fro Rome, Fro Waspasian, þat haþ þe power Of Rome and is Neroys vyker. And ȝif he aske after Nero ouȝt, Where he be syke or doun ybrouȝt, I schal sey: nay, but graunted late To answere for his astate. Thoruȝ þe prophete hit may be so, That we mowe se þe come þerto. To knowe Pylate I haue þouȝt, That I ne fayle of him ryȝt noȝt, That we myȝt ones of þise dawes Ȝelden him his false lawes. I wol sey: Waspasian holdeþ of þe despyte, Siþþe þou doyst him no profyte. As men in þe regestyr mowe fynde, Of long tyme hit is behynde; And þat wol be a gret raunsoun, That wol falle of suche a towne. I wol wende to him and seyn, Why he wiþholdeþ hit wiþ dysdeyn. Gladenys in hert gete I none, Tyl þat I be come and goen. Sey me, Syr, what is þi wylle? For me lykeþ wel, þis to fulfylle.' Than seid Waspasian him to: 'I praye þe, wende and do ryȝt so, And hiȝe þe faste and come aȝee, I schal noȝt be gladde, tyl I þe see; And loke, þat þou no tresoure spele, To haue som tryste to myn hele. To haue myn hele, ȝeue I wolde More perry and more golde, Ȝee, more þan I can of telle; For sore I smerte and foule I smelle. And þerfor, for þe loue of me, Hye þe faste to þat cyte.' The styward dyȝt him as þe hende, And to Jerusalem he gan wende. Hit fel to him boþ fayre and wel After his owne desyre euerydel. His ynne was itake fast by Next þe temple of kyng Davy. The lord of þat ynne Jacob hiȝtte; He was a Jewe, I þe plyȝtte; But he was a preuy crystenman. Wel feyre he grette Velosian. Jacob asked, whenys he come And what he souȝtte þer and whom. 'Jacob', quod Velosian, 'I am wiþ Syr Waspasian. Gaskoyn and Gallice he haþ in honde, And fro him I come to þis londe; For he haþ an yuel stronge, That haþ iholde him ful longe. He rouȝtte never, what he ȝaue, So þat he myȝt his hele haue. And hit was ytolde him and me, That one was dede in þis cyte, A noble prophete, þat hyte Jesu, Thoruȝ Syr Pylate and þoruȝ ȝou, That heled al syke and sore In þis countre here byfore. And ȝif he were nowe vnsleyn, My lord of him wolde be feyn. Now, Syr, telle me þis, Wheþer þere be any þing left of his, And what hit is and in what stedde, And þou schalt haue ryche mede.' Than spake Jacob, þe good man: 'Welcome be þou, Velosian. Ful wel schal I counseille þe, But loke, þat hit preuy be. 'Ȝis, hardelyche, arst wol I dye, Or I to any man þe wolde wrye.' Jacob seid: 'Nowe am I gladde. Hit is ful lange, þat I badde, That I schulde þe tyme here, That Jesu deþ auenged were. And ȝit, I hope, schal come þat day, That I þerof ihure may. And ȝit I hope þoruȝ þi lord and þe, That I schal þe tyme yse. Hereþ nowe a meruayllous, That byfelle amonge vs: A fole walkyd in þis towne Al day wiþ childern vp and downe; He seid ful ofte vppon his game, That þis towne schuld al to shame. Therfor þe more we dreden alle, For he seid ofte, as hit is falle. And, Syr, I wol to ȝou telle, as I can, How Jesu dyde, þat good man, As I sawe hit wiþ myn yȝen, Howe þei dude him to dyen. Thei bounde him and bete him as a þeef Al a nyȝt in peynes greef. Vppon þe morowe at one voys Thei nayled him fast vppon þe croys. He dyde and arose þe þirdde day Out of þe graue, þere he lay. Marye, my douȝtter, I telle þe, Was one of þe Maryes þre, That to Jesus tombe went Wiþ boxys fulle of oynement, To haue ylyþed his body þerwiþ, Ther he was sore in lym and liþ. And ȝif þi lord leue him vppon, I dare warante him hole anoon And by his fey wol hit swere, Lytel while schal yuel him dere; And I trowe, Syr, he wol so do.' 'Nay,' seid Velosian, 'he wol noȝt so. Erst he wol be deed on graue, But he wyst his heel to haue; So þat he myȝt haue heel sone, He rouȝt neuer, what to done,' Than spake Jacob as a kynde man To þe styward Velosian. 'Syr,' he seid, 'I knowe a wyffe, A curteys lady of cleen lyffe; I hope, þat sche be my gret frende. I schal to morowe after hir sende. Vnder hir and vnder me, I hope, we schul so counselle þe, So þat þi nedys schul be spedde. Therfor no more darre ȝe noȝt be adradde.' Whan þe styward þis herde, Wiþ mochel ioye þat nyȝt he ferde. He seid to Jacob anoon þo: 'To morowe wiþ me þou muste go, To lede me to Syr Pylate. I hope, we shulle his pryde abate. My lord me haþ to him ysent, To feche fro him Neroys rent.' 'Syr, quod Jacob, permafey, I graunte ȝou wel to morowe day.' A morowe he rose, þe good knyȝt, Pryuelyche yarmed and wel ydyȝt. He and Jacob, boþ two, To her synagoge þei gune go. That was þere by þilke dawe The temple of þe Jewenlawe. And Syr Pylate þei founde þere, That stode þerin, his seruyce to here, And al aboute enuyroun Stoode þe grettest of þe towne. Tho Jacob drowe him into þat stedde, For to hure, what þei seide. And Syr Uelosian forþ spronge On his stede styffe and stronge; But adowne wolde he noȝt lyȝt, Tyl he come to Pylate ryȝt. 'Syr, he seid, wel þe be! My lord grete þe wel by me, The kyng of Gallyce, Waspasian. He holdeþ þe for his man And askeþ of þe, if þou wolt knowe Of þe trewage, þat þou schalt him owe. Vnder him þou holdyst þis cyte, I vnderstonde; þi lord is he. Al þe trewage is behynde Of his tyme, as we fynde, And þat wol be a gret raunson, That schal falle of suche a towne. And þerfor nowe wyte I wolde, Why þou hit hast so longe wiþ∣holde. I rede, ȝif þou wolt be his frende, By me þe trewage þat þou him sende; Oþer he himself wol hit fette, That none of ȝou schal him lette! Nowe haue ydo and answere me anoon, For homwarde sone I muste goon.' What, quod Pylate, is Nero deed? How longe haþ he had þe lordheed?' 'He is bycome Syr Nero his lefte∣naunt, And þat I darre ryȝt wel waraunt; And ȝif þou wylt noȝt yleue me, Som tyme þou schalt þe soþe yse.' 'Master, quod Pylate, þou seyest amys; Were hit so, I had wyst or þis.' Tho seid Uelosian in a while: 'Syr Pylate to begyle.' That he schuld noȝt anoþer tyme Fayle of his visage to knowen him, He forgate him neuer a dele, He toke his marke of him ryȝt welle. Pylate stared, as he were woode. Vppon Velosian, þere he stoode. 'What, he seid, haue I no men? This þeef is come, me to sleen. Helpeþ me nowe, þat I awreke were Of þis þeef, þat honeþ þus here.' Than spake a knyȝt, þat hyȝt Bara bas, That out of prison delyuered was That ylke tyme, þat Jesus dyde; Forþ he stertte and lowde cryde. 'Syr, he seid, þis knyȝt is alon, Hit were shame to vs echon, To do hym any vilanye; For he is none aspye. He semeþ to be a douȝtty knyȝt, For he seiþ his eraunde aryȝt. But be þou euer of hardy chere, For þou art most master here; Ne drede þou noȝt Waspasian noþing, For we schul make þe oure kyng. And ȝif he come, the ouȝt to lette, I hope, he schal be wel ymette; And or he haue ouer vs þe mastrye, I hope, he schal ful dere abye. And let we nowe þis goodman go And grete him wel and sey him so.' Velosian grette al þat þere stode, And out he spronge, as he wer woode. To his ynne he come ful ryȝt, And of his stede adowne he lyȝt. Tho Jacob sawe him lyȝt adowne, He went to him, as was resoun, And seid: 'Welcome be ȝe hyder∣warde.' 'Ȝee, Jacob, nowe I am ascaped harde; But nowe I wote, þat I him knowe. Wel I holde bysette þis þrowe: Whan tyme comeþ, shewe I can, To knowe him fro anoþer man.' 'Syr, seid Jacob, I may se, How þat ȝe ygreued haue be. And Jesus let me neuer erst dye, Of þis despyte but he hit abye. Syr, beþ nowe glad, I pray þe And ryȝt welcome be ȝe to me. Comfort þe and drede þe ryȝt noȝt, For, þat I behet, I haue þe brouȝt: Syr, take dame Veronye here! Sche oweþ to be ȝou wel and dere, For sche wylle shewe þe eche dele, How þat þi lord schal haue his hele. Pylate hateþ hyr and me, For we haueþ longe frende ybe. Whan sche is agreued, sche comeþ me to, And I to hyr wende also; For we beþ Crysten pryuely. Vppon us boþ he haþ enuy, And so he weneþ witterly, To do vs gret vylany.' Tho þei eten and made hem glade, And mochel ioye þe styward made, For he had þe woman yfonde. Thei sowped togeder in þat stonde; Afterward he shewyd hyr al his cas Of his lord, how hit was. 'Jacob, he seid, I prey þe, That þis lady go wiþ me To my lord, þat is syke and sore; And sche schal haue wel þerfor.' 'Syr, seid Jacob to him þo, I prey hyr fayre wiþ þe to go; I hope, ȝe wol hyr safelyche lede And also wel acquite hyr mede.' Than seid Velosian hym to: 'Al þat sche wol, I wylle also. Dame, he seid, I prey þe, That ȝe graunte, to wende wiþ me, And ensure me also somdele, Howe my lord schal haue his hele.' 'Syr, sche seid, drede þe noȝt, For þerto schal hit wel be brouȝt, Also ferforþ as we kune, Ȝif he wylle lyue in goddes sone. As Jesu cryst heled me, So schal I nowe shewe þe. I woned fer besyde þe see In þe lond of Galylee. Wiþ þe fluxe I was þorouȝ souȝtte; Jacob, þou wotyst, þat I lye noȝtte. The euyl last long, as me þouȝt, And to speke wiþ Jesu here I souȝt. Whan I was to towne ycome, The Jewes had him ynome. Tho I þis herd, hit was me loþ, And anoon I toke a pece of cloþ, And to a peyntoure I gan gon, To peyntte his visage þervppon, That I myȝt eche day hit yse, Euer in my mynde for to be. For I wyst, I had him forgo, Therfor in hert me was wo. And as I toward þe peynttoure come, I mette my lord toward þe dome, Vppon his schuldre beryng þe croys, And I cryed to him wiþ a lowde voys: "Jesu me reweþ for þi pyne And þat I schal þe so sone tyne. Moche nede I haue to speke with þe; Swete lord, loke onys on me, For I haue yloued þe here byfore; Therfor I tryste on þe moche þe more." A lytel besyde ȝede Marye And herde me so lowde crye. Anoon fro me þe cloþ sche kypte And þerwiþ Jesus vysage sche wypte; So harde swetyng þan was he For þe burdon of þe tre. I wende after, as he ȝede, And handeled a lytel of his wede, I kneled and wepte and his feet; He blessed me and þer me leet. Marye beckenyd uppon me, þat is so good, As sche ȝede vnder þe rood; My cloþ sche me toke and I hit kyst, Anoon I feled me hole and tryst; And in my cloþ þoruȝ his grace Is þe lest semblaunte of his face. In my cofre I haue hit spered And siþþe þe better haue yferd. And eueryche day I knele þerto, As I was woned to do; And euer þe more, þat I hit se, Mochel þe better I fele me; And euer siþþe I haue dwelled here, That home aȝeyn wold I noȝt stere. Naþeles, Syr, to þe I telle, Here may I noȝt long dwelle, For Pylate is my strong fo, Therfor me is þe leuere wiþ þe to go. To feche þe semblaunte wol I gon, And I schal me dyȝtte and come anoon.' Uelosian was so ful gladde, For he spedde, of þat he badde. 'Jacob, he seid, here þou me. A tydyng I wolle nowe telle þe. Ȝif I lyue, Pylate schal abye, For he wolde me haue ysleye. Ȝif my lord be hole and fere, Hyderward sone he schal him stere And on Pylate he schal be awreke For þe wordes, þat he er speke. Wel may he be a schrewe aȝenst vs, That gyltles slowe swete Jesus. Holde þe in couerte, tyl þou hit se; I telle þe wel, hit schalle so be.' 'Ȝee, quod Jacob, I praye Crist, þat I may Abyde, to se þat ylke day. And also sende him hele sone, That þe veniaunce myȝt be done.' 'Lord, seid Uelosian, Jacob, knowyst þou any man, That ben alyue in þis towne, That were at Crystes passioun?' 'Syr, quod Jacob to him, ywys, Manyone of hem ȝit alyue is; I may se hem euery day Go byfore me in þis way. Ȝif ȝe wolle, I schal for hem sende, And þei wolle telle ȝou worde and ende; Of her dede wol þei noþing hyde. But make þerof bost and pryde; To speke þerof þei beþ glad and mery, That þei þerof beþ neuer wery.' To Jacob seid Velosian: 'I pray þe, þat þou sende for hem þan; I praye þe, þat I had yherde, With Jesu crist howe þat þei ferde.' 'Syr, quod Jacob, I grauntte þe, Ryȝt anoon þou schalt hem yse.' He sent pryuelyche for hem alle, And þei come anoon to his halle. He welcomed hem þo and made hem gladde And gret semblaunte hem made. 'Lordyngges, welcome mote ȝe be Here to my gyste and to me. He is my frende and he wolde hure, Howe Jesu crist dyed here. For þat were to him ioye and game, That he myȝt hure telle of his shame.' Anoon þei sette adowne and louȝ, And al were glad ynowȝ. 'Syr, seid one to him, we him bounde To a pyloure of marbyl rounde. There we him bete and him hyrte Wiþ long scourges fele and smerte, Tyl þat he ranne al ablode, And siþþe nayled him on þe roode.' Forþ byfore him stertte oþer two. 'Wylt þou hure, what we dude þo? We blente him and bete him al nyȝt; Ȝit vs reweþ, þat he had so lyȝt. And byfore Pylate we herde him telle, That he myȝt oure temple felle And arere hit þe þirdde day. Bytwene vs we seid: nay. Therfor we shewed Pylate þis pleynt; Amonge þe Jewes he was ateynt.' And þei tolde one and one, Tyl þei knowleched euerychone; And euer satte þe styward to by∣holde, Tyl al was seid, þat þei wolde. 'Lordyngges, he seid, boþ gret and smale, I þanke ȝou of þis feyre tale. That ȝe haueþ ytolde me of þis man, I schal reherse hit, ȝif I can, In anoþer stedde, al how it was; There men desireþ, to hure þis cas.' Than were þei al swyþe glade, That þe good man suche ioye made. For þei wende, wel to haue ydo; Muchel myrþe þei made þo. But I hope, þat ylke game Turned hem siþþe al to shame. Thei toke her leue and went her way, Thei þanked hem of her feyre play. Tho seid to him Velosian: 'Jacob, ȝit ȝif þat I can And þou lyue and here dwelle, Of þis þou schalt yhere telle: Gret veniaunce schal falle and be Amonge þe peple in þis cyte. For ȝit herde I neuer in none stedde, In al storyes, þat men may rede, That wreche ne come of manys dede. So wolle falle of þis, I drede!' 'Ȝee, quod Jacob, Crist grauntte hit ay, That I mowe se þat day. A frende of þe I hope to haue.' 'Mafay, Jacob, and I schal þe saue; When tyme comeþ, þat þou art in nede Then wol I þe of frendship heed.' Forþ anoon dame Veronye came, Thei toke her leue and wende þan; Lyste hem noȝt to styntte in no towne, Tyl þei come into Gaskoyne. Velosian was of hyr ielouse, That he hyr had into his house; For þer he hoped to ese hyr best, After trauaylle hyr to rest. He wente him also blyue þan To his lord Waspasian. 'Syr, he seid, beþ noȝt adradde, For I hope, ȝoure nedes beþ spedde; Take nowe gladenys in þin hert And forȝete also sorowe and smert. I haue ybrouȝt a woman of þe best, Sche is at myn house at reste; Sche haþ brouȝt þi bote, I vnder∣stonde, From Cryst, þat saueþ al in londe. Also I spake wiþ Syr Pylate, That I knowe him by his state; Fro him I scaped, I am feyn, For I was almost þere ysleyn. Syr, al hit is soþe, verament, That I tolde, or I went. Of Crystes deþ I haue outsouȝt Of hem, þat haþ þe dede ywrouȝt, Byfore Jacob, my good frende, Whan þat he after hem sende; And þus þei tolde on a rowe, Al þat þere was ysowe.' Tho þe kyng his armes outcast And clypte Velosian wel fast And kyssed him mowþe to mowþe, And mochel þanke he him cowþe. 'Thise wordes, þat þou hast me ybrouȝt, Stereþ me mochel in my þouȝt; Thus wonderwordes here byfore Ne herde I neuer, siþþe I was bore. Lyue I or dye I, muste proue Som tyme þat prophete for to loue, That I þus sone am ycast To that lord, þat is stedfast, Siþþe he doþ al dedes at wylle, And þat him lykeþ to fulfylle. By þis hit semeþ, Velosian, That he is a wel perylous man. Thise wordes I haue so in recorde, That, ȝif I be hole þoruȝ þat lorde, I schal brynge hem to confusioun, That dude þat lord to þat passioun.' 'Syr, quod Velosian, haueþ no care; For syker I am, þou schalt wel∣fare. That, I hope, schal be to morowe, That þou schalt be quyte of þi sorowe.' A morowe, whan þe day spronge, Velosian þouȝt hit ful longe. To crowne his sone þei were aboute, For of his lyffe he was in doute; Of al londes þere were þe best, That come to þe kyngges fest. To Tytus þei dude hem al swere, That þei schulde him fewte bere. That day men myȝt þere yse Feste and game gret plente; There was ynowe of al þing, As fel to þe crownement of a kyng. Nowe a stounde I muste dwelle, Of dame Veronye I wol ȝou telle. In hyr ynne sche stode and say Seynt Clement come by þe way, That in þilke tyme was Pope of Rome, And his clerkes wiþ him come. And by his beryng þouȝt sche, An holy man he myȝt be; For wyse draweþ to þe wyse, And folys euer to folys syse. Sche preyed him in pees and gryþe, That he wolde come and speke hyr wiþ; He come and satte by hir stylle And asked þo, what was hir wylle. 'Syr, sche seid, I prey þe, A cristenman ȝif þou be, Sey me, ȝif þou be or none.' 'Ȝys, dame, he seid, I am one. Suche as I am wytterly, Seynt Peters disciple was I. I sewyd him, dame, to Rome; There he suffred harde dome. Fro Jerusalem I come wiþ him hyder And eke Poule, boþ togeder. Nero was Emperoure þan And ȝit lyueþ, þat cursed man. He slowe boþ on a day; And siþþe haue I dwelled þer ay, To se ȝit, ȝif god wolde sende, That þis folke wolde hem amende. For long I haue preyed so, God grauntte vs to se, þat it come þerto. Therfor fro Rome hyder I fleiȝ on a day, And here I holde me alway. Ȝif Nero myȝt sone dye, Oþer come out sone of his eresye. That were nowe for vs good, For Waspasian is next of blood. Ȝit may hit falle, as I seye, For god is euer þere, beþ þre oþer tweye, That beþ ygaderd to speke in his name, In his worshipp for soule game.' 'Ȝee, Syr, seid Veronye him to, As god wol, so be hit ydo. Syr, sche seid, nowe am I glad, For I haue founde, þat I bad; Glade I am þis ylke stounde, That I haue þe here yfounde. For Peter and Poule boþ I knewe, That went with my lord Jesu Thoruȝ þe londe of Iude; There I knewe hem and þei me. Therfor, Syr, I prey þe, That þou woldest my frende be.' Anoon sche tolde him al þis cas, Wherfor þat sche ycome was. 'A, dame, he seid, I wol þe kyþe, That of þi comyng I am ful blyþe. I hope þoruȝ goddes helpe and þine, We schul ascape al oure pyne. No crystenman ne dar him shewe, But he wol be al to hewe; Therfor wol we priuely Speke of god boþ, þou and I.' 'Syr, sche seid, for þi lore I wylle be wiþ þe euermore, To dwelle nyȝe þi companye, Tyl my lord wol, þat I dye' Thus þei spake of holy wrytte, As þei þere togeder gan sytte; That of a long while litel hem þouȝt, For þei were togeder ybrouȝt. Tho Waspasian in his palyse Wayted after hir alwayes. No wonder was, þouȝ him þouȝt longe; His yuel on him was wonder stronge. He cleped þo Velosian And bad him hast for þat woman. The styward went forþ swyþe After hir with hert blyþe. 'Dame, he seid, þou and þi fere, Wel be ȝe yfounde here. Dame, þou muste come with me, My lord haþ now ysent for þe.' 'Gladlyche, sche seid, ȝif my frende Wol wiþ me to courtte wende; For he haþ power, nyȝt and day, To do and sey, þat I ne may, And ȝif we mowe him with vs lede, I hope, þe better for him we schul spede.' 'Syr, seid Uelosian þo, I prey, þat ȝe wold wiþ vs go.' Thei rose vp and went þan To þe kyng Syr Waspasian; On her knees þei hem sette, Wiþ mochel honoure þei him grette. 'Syr, seid Velosian, Here I brynge þe þis woman, That I ȝou hette ȝoure bote to brynge. Doþe hir worshipp in al þing; And also þis clerke with hir here, That can ȝou boþ wysse and lere. For dame Verony here seiþ: But ȝe knowe wel þe feiþ, Thou worþest neuer hole aryȝt, While þou lyuest, day ne nyȝt. Ȝit is better to lerne her lawe, Than wiþ þis yuel to be yslawe.' Syr Waspasian for socoure Welcome hem wiþ honoure And seid: 'Dame, welcome mote þou be; And Syr clerke, I prey þe, The ryȝt feiþ þat þou me ken Here byfore al þis men.' Seynt Clement þan was wel glad Anoon to do, þat he him bad; Pees he made anoon to be In al þat gret assemble. 'Lordes, he seid, I wol ȝou preye, Lysteneþ; now I schal ȝou seye: Hennys haþ be al to longe in londe Crystendome, I vnderstonde. Amonge hem, þat him loue and drede, God wol helpe hem euer and spede. My lord of heuene, as I ȝou telle, He made heuene, erþe and helle; And al, þat euer is hem wiþin, At him bygan and at him schal blynne. Thise beþ þe diuisiouns, Of þre manere habitaciouns: Heuene he made wiþ ioye and blysse, That euer schal laste wiþoutte mysse, There aungels and manys soule to wone Euermore wiþ goddes sone. The erþe he made to manys swyncke, To tulye him cloþ, mete and drynke. Fyue wyttes he has man yȝyue, To kepe him wiþ, while he doþ lyue: Wiþ eres to here; with yȝen to se Al, þat aboute vs be; Wiþ nose to smelle swete fro sowre, That is to vs a grete honoure; Wiþ mowþe to taste drynke and mete, Whiche to take and whiche to lete. Ȝit he ȝaue vs anoþer þing also: Wiþ hondes to handel, with feet to go. And none of al þise, as we rede, Ne may stonde in oþeres stedde. Ȝif man wiþ þise wol him lede, Heuene blysse schal be her mede; Ȝif he doþ yuel, as I ȝou telle, Wiþouten ende he goþ to helle. That is þe þirdde habitacion For synful manys prison. And þider went þe first man, That first be him synne bygan. And þus he and his kynde lay And schuld haue do tyl domes∣day; But god þan of his gret pyte Forto saue vs þan þouȝt he. For manys synne was so gret Byfore god in his sete; Ȝif man schuld to helpe be brouȝt, Thoruȝ manes deþ hit muste be brouȝt. The synne was foule, as we fynde, And hit folowed al mankynde. Thouȝ god had an aungel sent, He myȝt noȝt dye verament; Man dude þe dede, þat man muste dye; Thoruȝ pite god sauȝ þis with his yȝe God myȝt noȝt dye, ac he bycome man, And þus he dyed for vs þan. Wiþ aungels and his fader, þat is lorde, Thus brouȝt he man to accorde. He defended him wiþ none oþer staf, But þe manheed for vs he ȝaf. For mannys loue þus toke he dede Thoruȝ þe grace of his godheed. Of mayde Marye he was ybore, Cleen mayde siþþe and byfore; In þe londe of Jude he gan dwelle, And þere fele men to him felle. For his wordes soþ þei founde; Tho, þat were syke, he made hem sounde. And of þis þe Jewes had enuye, Therfor þei dude him to dye. Judas for þirtty pans him solde To þe Jewes, felle and bolde. Of his disciples he was one, That wiþ him was woned to gon. He hynge himself and þat was his ende; He had no grace, him to amende. For he nolde no mercy seke Of his master, þat was so meke. That salue is to eche sore: Ouer eny synne his mercy is more. Man is him next of any kynde, As we in holy writte do fynde. Therfor ȝif any man trespasse, He fayleþ noȝt, ȝif he seke grace. Me þinkeþ, Syr, þis man was wood, That solde his lord, þat was so good.' Than spake Waspasian so fre: 'I behote nowe to þat god and to þe, That, ȝif he wol me hole make, I schal be crystened for his sake; And I schal sle al, þat I fynde Of þe Jewes and her kynde. And þirtty of hem I schal selle and ȝeue For a peny, ȝif þat I lyue, For þat þei bouȝt him in despyte aplyȝt For þirtty pans wiþ vnryȝt. And Jesus let me neuer dye, Tyl þat I be awreke of þat felonye.' Than seid Clement him tylle: 'I hope, þou schalt haue al þi wylle. For þoruȝ þis yuel, I vnderstonde, My lord wylle, þat þou schalt fonde, To awreke him of his foon; And þat þou schalt yse anoon, For þoruȝ his vertu þou schalt yse, That hool sone þou schalt be. The ensample I telle þe, as hit sitte Ryȝt in þe boke of holy writte. He come to seche, þat was ylore; His enchesoun was þerfor To restore, þat was yfalle. For þi he dyde, for vs alle, To conferme vs in oure fay And synful men to turne awey. The Jewes seid, þat he come In destruccion here of man; But nowe I vnderstonde me, That þei seid hit by þe. The prophetes haueþ hereof yspoke, That ȝit his deþ schal be wroke. Mochel ioye were to vs alle, Ȝif hit myȝt þoruȝ þe byfalle. Kyngges worshipped him at his byrþe Wiþ offryng and wiþ mochel myrþe; Kyngges were siþþe in wylle Thoruȝ dynte of deþ don him spylle. Herodes first, whan he was bore, Afterward his deþ had yswore; Tho first Herodes þe childern slowe, I wote, he had peyne ynowe. Al maner yuels, seiþ þe boke, He had, or he þe deþ toke Wiþout þe stronge peyne of helle▪ Euermore þerin to dwelle. Wiþout gylt he hated Jesus, And gyltles þe Jewes slowe him þus. Kyngges beþ yflocked, to awreke his dede, Thoruȝ þe grace of his godheed. Suche knowlache of kyngges he nam, Whan he into erþe cam. Ȝif þou wolt wel leue on hym, That he may hele lippe and lym, I waraunte, he schal hele þe. By ensample þou myȝt yse: There was a knyȝt dede in londe, Lazar he hyȝt; I vnderstonde, That foure dayes in graue he laye; He arered him, þat many hit saye. And also, as we of him rede, He dude many anoþer dede. The best men, þat myȝt be, Twelue dysciples had he. When he out of þe erþe went, The holy gost he hem sent. Syxty and ten languages, I herde, That þei of þeyre master lered; He bad hem go into eueryche londe, To preche his worde þoruȝ his sonde; Of al yuels he ȝaue hem myȝt, To hele hem, þat lyueþ aryȝt; And þei, þat nolde to him wende, Schulde be lore wiþoutten ende. Suche wonder herde ȝe neuer none, That had shappe of man to goon. For god and man, boþ he is, Ther is no god but he, ywys! Therfor, Syr, leueþ my sawe, And al þi hert to him þou drawe. And al þat I sey, I dar wytnesse. This is þi feiþ more and lesse, I was wiþ hem, þat were him by, And þus þei tolde me wytterly. And þis lady, þat here stante, I wol take hir to warante, For sche se my lord Jesus. Nowe, dame, I prey þe, was hit þus?' Than seid Veronye at one brayde: 'I witnesse al, þat he haþ seid. Fulle wel telle ȝou, I owe, That Jesu crist haue I knowe. Of gret yuel he heled me, Som tyme I schal hit telle þe. For loue and feiþ I him dradde, And þerfor my hele I hadde. Knele adowne wiþ hert fre, And þis good man schal assoyle þe.' Whan þis was do euery del Sche toke þe vernycle feyre and wel. 'This had I of my lord Jesu so kynde, To haue him euermore in mynde.' Seynt Clement was þan reuest In ryche vestimentes of þe best. Sche bytoke hit to Seynt Clement, And he receyued hit with good entent. He and al kneled adowne For þis relyke wiþ good deuocioun; Byfore þe kyng Waspasian, That lay ful sore syke þan. 'Syr, þis is leche þi Sauyoure, Wiþ al þi myȝt do þin honoure. Leuyst þou, þat I haue seid, eche del?' 'Ȝee, Syr, quod Waspasian, swyþe wel.' 'Then kysse þis, I bydde þe, In þe vertue of þe trynite; And hole be þou euermore. Stonde nowe vp vs byfore, And god þe grauntte þe blysse, þat is most, Fader and sone and holy gost!' When þe good man had þus yspeke, Out he byganne his lymes to reke And stode up hool byfore hem alle. And alle his sores away gan falle, He bycome cleen, smeþe and mylde As þe body of a childe. When he feled him hool and cleen, Mochel ioye þere was seen, Of al manere mynstralsye. And he helde vp his hondes an hye And seid: 'Jesu, I trowe hit wel, That I haue hurde of ȝou euery del. Certes, lord, ȝif þat I lyue, To þi seruice I schal me ȝeue. I prey þe, lord, ȝif hit be þi wylle, Ȝeue me lyffe, þis to fulfille, And I schal hye, þat I may, That hit were ydo, nyȝt and day. When we haueþ ydo and beþ ycome, We wolleþ be crystened also sone.' Thei toke him vp bytwene her honden And made him þo byfore hem ston∣den. 'Dame, he seid, ȝif I may spede, Ȝe schul of me haue ryche mede. What þing of me þou wolt craue, Syker þou be, þou schalt hit haue.' 'Syr, sche seid samfaylle, I vowchesaffe al my trauaylle, That I haue hadde, for þe; And þat þou woldest ȝeue me, That ȝe ȝeue hit to þis good man; And mochel þanke I ȝou can. For wiþ him I wol wone and wende Euer to my lyffes ende.' Londes and rentes he ȝaue him wyde, Cloþes, tresoure, hors to ryde; He made hir þat to speke, That þei schuld hem neuer breke. Clement seid: 'Hure þou me, I rede, þat ȝe ycrystened be. And haste ȝou sone and ȝoure men alle For any chaunce, þat may by∣falle. Thyn ost þou myȝt þe surer lede, And þere þou myȝt þe better spede.' 'Nay, he seid, þat nyl I noȝt. First hureþ, what is my þouȝt. Do me come Tytus, my sone, And al my folke, þat none ne shone.' Tytus come his fader to And many gret lordes also. 'Nowe, sone, he seid, wolt þou me swere, Thou and al þis folke here, Wiþ me to wende to Jerusalem Ouer þe see, þe hiȝe streem, To destroye hem and þe stedde, That dude Jesu cryst to dede? For I schal neuer be fulfayn, Tyl þat I se þat kynde ysleyn. Thyder to wende haue we enchesoun Sykerlyche, wiþ good reson; Thyder we muste go þis gate, To be awreke of Syr Pylate For my lordes loue so fre, That so fayre heled me. Ȝit dude I neuer noȝt him fore; Therfor my hert is wel sore. I were to blame and al myne, But we dude hem moche pyne; I hote ȝou, þat schal neuer betyde, While þat I may go oþer ryde. And nowe I am hool and fere, This oþer day myȝt I noȝt stere; I þonke god, þoruȝ whom hit was, I wote, he heled me for þis cas. For his deþ schuld avenged be! I grauntte to go. What sey ȝe?' 'Syr, quod Tytus, so do I And al, þat here beþ, sykerly.' Whan þis was grauntted, men myȝt se Songe and playe, game and gle. 'For leue, he seid, I wol sende anoon To Syr Nero, to let vs goon. I prey ȝou al, dyȝt ȝou fast, That ȝe were redy al in hast Of men, of armes and of vytaille, So þat vs noþing ne faylle.' Than sende he to þe Emperoure Nero, þat cursed traytoure By a letter, as ȝe mowe se: "Vaspasian and Tytus grette þe! For gret need we beþ in wylle At Jerusalem to fulfylle; Of a gret vylonye To avenge vs, we muste hye, Of a trespas, þat vs was do. We preyeþ þe leue þereto; Grauntte [t]his vs wiþ oute feyntyse, For hit muste be do in al wyse. Hit schal þe turne to profyte And to no man despyte." The Emperoure sent hem to sey: "Go, whan ȝe wol, in ȝoure wey And on ȝoure enemyes venge ȝou, So þat hit be noȝt aȝen my prow." Than seid Waspasian and Tytus: 'Yblessyd be oure lord Jesus.' Also quycke þei made hem ȝare, In her wey for to fare. Seynt Clement and dame Veronye Were ful glad of þat feyre com∣panye And seid: 'Syr, or ȝe go henne, Grauntte ȝoure pees to cristenmen, For loue of god do hem to wyte, That no man do hem despyte, Fro þat ȝe go, tyl þat ȝe come; But ȝif he suffre harde dome.' 'Mafay, quod he, and I grauntte, And þe, Clement, I schal waraunte: Thou schalt haue large commyssioun For þis countre and for þis towne. For al, þat leueþ in god almyȝt, Myn men schul warde day and nyȝt. Thou and Veronye, boþ tweyn, Drede ȝe noȝt, tyl I come ageyn.' This was ycryed þoruȝ þe countre, That his schulde yholde be. 'Kepe nowe wel þi clergye, Al þat þou hast in þi baylye, When þat we comeþ at certeyn terme, I schal þe and þi state conferme. I schal bydde hem, þat dwelleþ here, That þou and þin ouer al were. Preye for vs, tyl we come ageyn; And when we comeþ in certeyn, I wol be cristened ryȝt anoon And myn mayne euerychon. Preyeþ for vs, þat god vs spede, And haueþ nowe no more drede.' 'Syr, he seid, now I am bolde. God of heuene þi lyffe holde, Longe þat I hit mote yse, And namelyche, tyl þat þou ycrist∣ened be; And ellys were it rewþe, Siþþe þou goyst in wey of trewþe.' 'Thoruȝ Cristes helpe I hope to gon, To do þis nede, and come anoon; And þat I may, I wol me rape, So þat Pylate noȝt ne ascape.' Anoon he dude his shyppes dyȝt, Wel a þousand, I þe plyȝte; Wiþ him and wiþ his sone also An hunderdþousand men and mo. Clement and dame Veronye, boþ two, Toward þe see wiþ him gune go, Tyl þei were yshipped alle. And Waspasian to him gan calle: 'Blesse vs nowe, Syr, and let vs gon And turneþ boþ aȝeyn home.' 'Syr, he seid, now god þe saue, And his blessyng and myn þou haue And þe water, þat ȝe in wende, Tyl Jesu crist aȝen ȝou sende.' And siþþe þat blessyng dude him good And al men, þat passed þat flood; Thoruȝ goddes helpe and seynt Cle∣ment Siþþe þer was none yshent. Thei drowe vp sayle byfore and be∣hynde, And god hem sent ful redy wynde, So þat in sixe wykes ouer þei come. And þo a crye vp þei nome, That þe towne wonderd þerfore And wexed agast of hem ful sore. Thei dude anoon, as þei schulde; Wiþoutten stryffe þe towne þei ȝelde. Waspasian lefte þere his warden, And in þe morowe þei wen þen. Thei went forþ into þe londe And slowe and brentte al, þat þei fonde, And droue bestes wiþ hem gret route, That þei purueyde al aboute. Fro Acrys þei come þe first Fryday To Japheth, as I ȝou telle may, And bycaste al þe towne Wiþ many a ryche pauylon. Thei souȝt without and wiþin And þere men myȝt se, wonders by∣gynne. God hem sent suche a chaunce Aȝens her allyr veniaunce: Reyne, hayle, froste and snowe, Styffe wynde and lowde to blowe, Hungere, þurst and gret colde And oþer yuels manyfolde. And Waspasian wiþ al his ost Had ioye and myrþe most: Wedyr, game and gret plente Of al cases, þat myȝt be; And so he had fro þe tyme, þat he come, Tyl he turned aȝein home. Waspasian his sege þere helde Longe, or þei wolde hem ȝelde. Thei wiþin swore echon, That þei nolde hem ȝelde neuerone, For noþing, þat myȝt falle, Thouȝ þei bete adowne þe walle. The kyng swore, þat he ne schulde Wende þennys, tyl þe towne were ȝelde. Whan þei wiþin hurde þis ooþ, Eueryche of hem aȝens oþer gooþ Wiþ swerdes, sperys and knyffes∣drawe, So þat eche oþer gan slawe, That þer ne lefte man childe ne wyff, But twey knyȝttes, with þe lyff. Douȝtty men þei were boþe, For neiþer was wiþ oþer wroþe; Thei had long frendes ybe, Therfor neiþer wolde oþer sle. Syr Japhel, I wote, hyte þat one, Of þat oþer name haue I none. Thei ȝelde hem to þe kyngges so∣coure, And he hem reseyued with gret ho∣noure. He drowe Japhel nere and nere, That he bycome his counseller. And for Waspasian was yware, That he was sybbe to Cesare And also of his owne bloode, He seid to him, as he vnderstode. And for he knewe þe counttre, His lodys man he had him be. And he fulle wel ladde hem, Tyl þei come to Jerusalem. He left at Japheth kepers good, To kepe be cytee with feld and wode. Here I may telle, þat [ȝe] hit knowe, Howe Jesu þinkeþ on his owe. Byfore þe tyme of his wreche Thus he beganne his folke to know∣lache. Crysten þat were in þat counttre, Thei we[re] warned, þennys to fle, Thoruȝ þe holy gost for þis ven∣iaunce. But any wold stonde to his chaunce, As som dude dwelle stylle, To abyde goddes wylle. The cristenmen fleiȝ and ran Anoon ouer þe folm Jordan. The place, þere þei dwelled and cam, Was yhote Castel Pellan; There þei helde hem euerychon, Tyl þe veniaunce was ydon. The Jewes were trapped and holde in, That were encombred in her synne. For þere is no good dede vnȝelde Ne no wycked vnpunysshed be schulde. Tho Pylate wyst, þat Japheth was take, For drede and tene he gan to quake. For euer he was in mochel drede, Siþþe Velosian fro him ȝede. For þe wordes, þat he had spoke, He wolde, he had be in erþe ylocke. He was in so gret doute, That he sent after men al aboute And ȝaue hem ful gret mede, To come and helpe him at his nede. Syr Archylaus come him to, Kyng of Galylee þat was þo, Herodes' sone men dude him calle, He þat slowe þe childern alle. Wiþ mochel pride and gret bost He brouȝtte wiþ him a mochel ost. And for drede, I wote also, Al þe counttre fylle him to; And eueryche man to him fleiȝ fro home, And to Jerusalem þan þei come Wiþ wyffe and childe and her fee, Therin in sykernys for to be. For Waspasian and his ost Slouȝ and brende by euery cost. Pylate sent out his aspyes Pryueliche by fele styes, For to do him to sey, Where þei come and by what weye. Archilaus and Syr Pylate, Boþ rode out at one gate Wiþ her ost, her hors to proue, Ȝif þei were to her byhoue. And ȝit had Pylate no grace, To fle awey fro þat place. He herde, what he schulde haue, And ȝit he myȝt noȝt himself saue. For lost is better, as hit is founde, In wode þan in towne ybounde. And so ferde he by his resoun, Whan he fleiȝ aȝen to towne. But god wolde noȝt, þat he schulde scape, But to his bale forto rape. For he had him space ylent, Fourty ȝeer to amendement. Than come his asspyes home And tolde him al, wherforþ þei come, The most folke, þat euer þei say; Than was Pylate in gret afray. Tho seid þe kyng Archilaus: 'Syr, þou art master of vs. I rede þe, Syr, be bolde ynowe, For I dar make þe þis avowe, That þou schalt be so wel byforn Of men, of vitaylles and of corn, That noþing schal fayle þe, And hereof borouȝ wol I be. And þei beþ oure, eueryche man, So moche I þe telle can. Noþing but holde vs stylle And let hem come at her wylle. For fresshe water nere is none Than hennys to þe flom Jordan. For ȝif þei wol hemself saue, Fresshe water þei muste haue. And þei se, þat þer is none, Home aȝen þei mote gon, For þei beþ þerof noȝt ware; Therfor þe lesse is oure care. And ȝif þei turne ones þe backe, Thei beþ oure, al þe packe. Hi[t] is for þe prophetes sake Al þe sorowe, þat þei make. Thei schul wiþ shame turne aȝein, For þei worcheþ al in veyn.' Whan he had his tale ytolde, Ouer þe walle þei gune byholde, And al þe feldes and eke þe fen Thei say bycast wiþ hors and men, Wiþ her bancrers brode yspredde, That al þe cyte þo was adredde. In eueryche wyndowe þei gan hem byholde, And þan her hartes waxed colde; And afterwarde þe belles þe[i] ronge, Ther was outhest of many a tonge. Wiþ horne and mowþe þei cryed out, Whan þe towne was byseged aboute. This was foure and þirtty ȝeer, After þat Jesus dyde here. Wiþin þei made sorowe and care And without ioye and mochel fare; Thei within her honden wronge, And þei without lowde songe. On Paske day þe sege bygan, As þe story telle can. Waspasian was þo ful blyþe, And he pyȝt his pauylon also swiþe. And whan þei were pyȝt echon, He sent after Japhel anoon. He seid: 'Japhel, I wol þe telle, Here we muste nedys dwelle, Tyl we haue wonne þis cytee And al, þat þerein be. What is best to do, þou wotyst, For þou knowyst þis counttre most. Therfor, Syr, I þe preye, That þou take anoon þe weye Al aboute þis cytee, To ordeyne for myn ost and for me And loke, what we haue nede Of al þingges, þat may vs spede.' Japhel rode by euery cost, To ordeyne and araye þe ost. Aboute þe towne þei set engynes, To destroye her wiþ wynes; And ofte to þe towne þei cast Wist bowes shotte and with arblast, Wiþ tarbarelles and with wylde fyer, Wiþ staffe slyngges and oþer atyre; Sowys to iuyn men made sleye And borfreyes to ryse an hiȝe, That þei myȝt se into þe towne, What men dude vp and downe; Men of armes, þerin to stonde, To fyȝt wiþ hem honde of honde; Ladders of leþer and of corde Fro þe cornels to þe sworde, And masters, þat were slye to kest, To kepe þe spryngoles at þe best; And many oþer queynt engyne, To shende hem, þat were withynne. Naþeles for al þis wo Hit was ful longe, or hit were do. Of al þe sawte, þat was without, There within had þei no dout; The cyte was so large wiþynne, That hem ne dradde none engyne. For to hem rauȝtte no caste But þe quarel of þe arblaste, Tyl al þe subbarbes of þe towne To grounde þo were cast adowne And yswept al cleen ouer alle Into þe bare towne-walle. Than byganne her wo withynne And her folke faste to þynne. Ȝit last þe sege seuene ȝere Wiþ mochel drede and gret werre; For al, þat goddes men myȝt do, Thei dude, to lengþe her paynes þo. Whan Japhel had do, he come aȝe. 'My lord, he seid, þei wol vs al sle; But al þin ost by Cristes myȝt, By him þi men beþ wel ydyȝt. But of one þing I haue gret þouȝt: Fresshe water haue we noȝt, But I haue cast by my skylle, Where to feche hit, and ȝe wylle.' That seid Waspasian him to: 'As þou wolt, I wolle also.' 'Syr, quod Japhel, þis is my rede, Howe we schulle oure water lede; For fresshe water nere is none, Than hennys to flom Jordan. Therfor we schulle do sle oure praye, That we toke by þe weye: Hors, asses, oxen and kyne, Mules, kamels and gret swyne, Many þousand we haue brouȝt. Of hem, I telle ȝou in my þouȝt, I schal do sewe þe hydes fast Wiþ good semes, þat wol last And so do sowe euerychon, Forto lede water þeron. Of som we schulle þonges make, Ouer þe semes forto rake, And ouercast al þe walle Of Josephath, þe depe dale. Thus in þe valy we schul fonde, Oure water to do wiþstonde. Foure hunderd somers, ȝif I may, Schulle feche vs water eueryche day, Alwey tyl þe vale be hylde And wiþ fresshe water yfulfylde.' Whan he had seid also sone, He lefte noȝt, tyl hit was done. Pypes he made manyone By eueryche syde out forþ to gon The olde water, þat was astonde, There come newe at her honde, That þoruȝ þe ost, man and best, Had ynowe, boþ lest and mest. This come of a noble wytte: Do water to stonde without pytte. Thoruȝ ordinaunce of god and þe wyse Makeþ men ofte to wynne þe pryse. Al was ydo by goddes wylle, For to make þe Jewes spylle. Tho þei wiþin þe water sawe Stonde so ful in þat lawe, Mochel wonder was hem amonge, How þe water þerout spronge. Thei went to Pylate and him tolde, And he went þider to byholde; And wiþ him went Archilaus And þe clerke Master Josephus. Than seid þei al þre: 'Whennys may þis water be?' Tho spake Master Josephus: 'Certys, Messias is wroþe with vs; Thei haueþ his helpe, I am al ware, For late was þis place bare; Of fresshe water nere is none Than hennys to þe flom Jordan. I ne wote, whennys hit comeþ, ne howe, But þoruȝ þe prophetes vertue.' Than spake Archilaus þus Anoon ryȝt to Syr Pylatus. 'Syr, he seid, be noȝt aferd For ouȝt, þat þou hast seye ne hurde, But kepe þe in þis cyte stylle, And þou schalt haue al þi wylle.' And as þei stode and out byhelde, Waspasian stode þer in þe felde. He se him on þe walle gon Vp and downe ful good won. And Syr Japhel stode him by And Velosian witterly. That of Pylate was sonyst ware, Howe þat he his mase bare Ouer his werkmen, þat þere wrouȝt, And þe walle ouer þoruȝ souȝt. Tho seid Uelosian: 'Sir, I se, That þer is Pylate, so þinkeþ me. Spekeþ to him, Syr, I ȝou preye, For to wyte, what he wol seye.' Waspasian loked vp to þe walle, And to Pylate he gan calle. 'Pylate, he seid, speke wiþ me. I am þi lord, as þou myȝt se, And þat I schal þe make to knowe, Ȝif I may lyue any þrowe. Loke out, traytoure with þin yȝe And be aknowe of þi felonye, Of al þe yuel, þat þou hast don Aȝens Jesus and us echon. And also þou doyst vs gret outrage, To wiþholde oure trewage. For þou art Jesu traytoure and myne, Therfor þou schalt haue þe more pyne.' Ȝit was noȝt Waspasian Pylatus' lord, ne he his man; Al he seid, to make him adredde, Ȝif he myȝt þe better haue spedde. Neþeles, I wote, in þat ylke ȝere Pylate come into his daungere. Pylate answerd him ryȝt noȝt, For he was sory in his þouȝt. Waspasian was agreued þo, That he ne wold speke him to. Than seid Waspasian þus To þe kyng Archilaus: 'Bewe Syr, þou art forswore And Herodes, þi fader, byfore; Thou ouȝttest better to be wiþ me Than þerin in þat cyte. Thi fader dyde in sorowe ynowe, For he al þe childern slowe, Whan Jesu crist was here ybore; Therfor he wolde haue him forlore. And þou art nowe in wylle, Thiself þereynne forto spylle. Thi fader dyde in peyne stronge, So schalt þou, or come ouȝt longe. Be þou and Pylate neuer so bolde; That I haue seid, I wol hit tolde.' Al þat he seid, þei toke in veyn, And Waspasian þo went ageyn. Archilaus seid to Syr Pylate: 'This kyng to vs haþ gret hate.' 'Ȝee,' quod Pylatus to Archilaus, 'Hit semeþ, he wol be awreke on vs. To be felle, hit him comeþ of kynde, And þat, I drede, we schul fynde. He is of Cesarys kynde, ywys, Of þe more felonye he is; That he byhoteþ, he wol holde, He nyl noȝt lette for hote ne colde.' Quod Archilaus: 'Haue no drede, Moche is bytwene worde and dede, This holde is stronge ynowe aboute, Thouȝ he do þrete, he is þerout; Make he neuer so muche to done, Ȝit comeþ he noȝt in so sone. But go we to þe walle ageyn, And do þou, a[s] I schal þe seyn: Take vp a floure uppon þe walle And to Waspasian loke þou calle And to him, þat al mowe se: "Batelle, Syr, I wage þe".' Pylate ȝede wiþ hert gladde And dude, as Archilaus him badde. Tho he had seid, what he wolde, Waspasian gan þo him to byholde And seid: 'Pylate, þat I hit take, Thi worde wolle I noȝt forsake. Suche a shame I byhote þe, That þou schalt dye oþer fle. Sorowe haue he, þat ȝou spare. Myn engynes makeþ ȝe ȝare; Kype al men, þat ȝe beþ myn, For Jesus loue, to do him pyne; Lokeþ, þat þei haue no rest And let Pylate nowe do his best. For so Jesus cryst me saue, Ne schal I neuer let him haue, Ȝif god wol grauntte me lyf þerto.' And al his frendes seid so: 'Be ȝe wiþin neuer so stronge, We schulle dwelle also longe, Tyl we haue wreke þe gret wronge, That Jesu crist ȝou sufferd amonge.' He comaunded þan, to trumpe anoon And to arme his men euerychon. Into þe towne þe[i] shotte and kast And men wiþin þei slowe fast; Thei fouȝtte so, tyl hit was nyȝt, That hem fayled dayes lyȝt. And happelyche a quarel drowe And a pore knaue hit slowe, That ȝede and pleyed in þe strette; And he was yholde a prophete Of al þe Jewes of þe lawe For many wonders and many sawe. Waspasian long hem assayled, But lytel hit him avayled; Neþeles many a Jewe þere he slowe And dude wiþin sorowe ynowe. Hit was within þe firste ȝeer; Fro Rome come a messanger, As he at þe sege lay Al þat tyme aȝens his pay. He brouȝt worde to Waspasian, That Nero was deed, þe cursed man, That was Emperoure of Rome. 'And vppon ȝou is ȝeue þe dome, Ȝe muste nedys home come, For her conseille þei haue ynome: Thei haue al ychose þe, Forto bere þe dignite. Syr, take noȝt þis sonde in veyn, Thou myȝt wende and come ageyn.' He went forþ and wolde noȝt shone, And he lefte þere Tytus his sone. Suche ioye Tytus gan þo vndertake, That him toke a cardyacle Of his faders gret honoure, That he schulde be Emperoure. Wiþ ouerdoyng ioye come al þis wo, And with ouerdoyng sorowe hit muste awey go, As we mowe here in a stounde, Ther Josephus siþþe was yfounde. When al þilke, þat were in Rome, Wyste, þat Waspasian come, Thei rode hem al him ageyn, Erles, barons, knyȝttes and swayn. Thei crowned him þer Emperoure Wiþ fest solace and gret honoure; Thei crowned him in his palyce In þe gyse of Sarasynes; But afterward seynt Clement Confermed his crownement. He gladed his frendes euerychon And to Jerusalem he went anoon, For him þouȝt ful longe at Rome, Tyl he were aȝeyn ycome. And so he dude, I telle hit þe, Wiþ ioye and myrþe gret plente. Herkeneþ, lordyngges, nowe efte; I mote telle, þere I lefte, Of þe knaue prophete, That was ysleyn in þe strette. Tho Jacob of þis knaue herde, To Pylate anoon he ferde. 'Syr, he seid, nowe is falle, I wene, we schulle yse hit alle, That þis Jewe seid vs to Twenty ȝeer ago and mo: That þis cytee schuld be lore And al, þat þerein were ybore. For nowe I wote himself yslawe, Wel þe better I leue his sawe. I rede, þat þou do after me And ȝelde vp swyþe þis cytee; For euer þe lenger þat we abyde, The more shame vs wol betyde.' This was Jacob, þe good man, That herborowed þe styward Uelo∣sian, As hit telleþ here byfore. But Pylate was agreued sore And seid: 'On þe I schal be awreke For þe wordes, þat þou erst speke; For þoruȝ þe counselle of þe I leue, þat al þis sorowe be. Velosian and þou þat ȝeer Kyste al þis, þo he was here. He spake to me wordes smerte; Siþþe come þo wordes noȝt out of myn hert. And ȝif I may, I schal þe sette, There no frende schal þe fette.' He dude fettyr him fast And in a foule stedde let him cast And swore: he schulde þere lye Wiþout mete, tyl he dye. And in þat foule dongeon Ther he lay in pryson. When Marye, his douȝtter, hit wyst, That she had hyr fader myst, Anoon sche seid þis oryson To Jesu cryst, goddes sone. 'Lord, sche seid, nowe here me, Ȝif þi swete wylle be. As wyssely as I þe souȝt Wiþ þe oynement, þat I brouȝt To þe tombe, þere þou lay, Ȝif hit were to þi pay, That I dude þat ylke dede, Lord, hure me nowe at þis nede. Thou helpe my fader also wys Out of sorowe, þat he in is; And also wys as he loued þe, Lord, þat he vnbounde be.' Whan þat sche had seid þis oryson, God sent an aungel adowne And come to Jacob, þer he sette, That for sorowe sore wept. 'Jacob, he seid, come wiþ me; My lord wol, þat hit so be. Take to þe comfort and solace And þanke god of his grace.' He toke him out of pryson And brouȝt him without þe towne And seid: he ne schuld no man drede. 'Go, fare wel, he seid, god þe lede.' Jacob þanked god anoon, Whan he felde him loce to gon, Feyre on knees with boþ his hondes, That louced him of his bondes. Toward þe ost he toke þe way, So þat Velosian anoon him say. He seid to þe Emperoure: 'I se Jacob, my frende; I wene hit be. Now I wote, Syr, hit is he aryȝt! Thonked nowe be god almyȝt.' Thei welcomed him fayre and wel And asked of his fare euery del. Anoon he tolde hem al þat cas Of þe Jewes, howe hit was, And howe he was ydo in prison, And howe he come out of þe towne. Thei þanked god as þe wyse, That so wel þinkeþ vppon hyse. Tho seid Velosian to Jacob ryȝt: 'Jacob, þou wotyst, what I þe hyȝt: That at nede to be þi frende, Whan I wolde homward wende, Whan þe Jewes her tales tolde, Howe þat þei Jesu slowe and solde, As þei beþ worþi, þei schul haue, For no tresoure schal hem saue. I owe þe euermore honoure And namelyche my lord, þe Em∣peroure; Thoruȝ goddes helpe and counselle þin, He is ascaped mochel pyne. On myn half also I þanke þe For þe gret honoure, þat þou du∣dyst me. Ȝif my lord were heled, I þe hyȝt, To brynge him hyder wiþ moche myȝt. Loke, he is here, as þou hit bad. Syr, þonkeþ Jacob and make him glad, For ȝe beþ gretly yholde þerto; I telle ȝou for soþe, he dude so.' He seid: 'Jacob, þou getyst honoure, And þe Jewes schal haue sorowe ful soure. I se, hem falleþ mochel shame, For hem is loked goddes grame. God is wiþ vs and hem ageyn, Al þat þei doþ, hit is in veyn; Suche is my hope and my tryste: Her is þe trauaylle and oures is þe rest.' The Emperoure þan of him was glad; He prayed Jacob and feyre him bad, That he schuld him say som resoun, Howe he myȝt best wynne þe towne. 'Forsoþ, quod Jacob, and I schalle Do make a dyche aboute þe walle, So þat none awey ne fle, But al þe ost may him yse, And þan ypalyssed by þe bry[n]cke Hye and stronge, as men may þinke. I wol myself þeraboute be, Tyl hit be do, so mote I þee.' The Emperoure seid: 'Graunte mercy! I grauntte þe al wel, sykerly, Al þing, þat þou wolt haue: Tymber, water, man and knaue.' The Emperoure dude sende his sonde For dykers in al þe londe; He bad him ȝeue eche to his paye Foure pans vppon þe daye; Eueryche master twey shelyngges hadde. So he comaunded and him badde. Whan þe dyche was made eche del, Hit payed þe Emperoure wonder wel. Also Jacob let make Tweyne charnels for þe ostes sake, Forto hyde hem in þat stedde Al þe folke, þat þere were dede, That þe quycke dyed noȝt for stynke of hem. And so þei dude in Jerusalem, Neþeles þere were charnels two Amydde þe cytee þan also. Than þe Jewes loked out And sawe þe dyche ymade hem aboute. Moche sorowe men myȝt se, Who so had wiþin ybe. Anoon þe Jewes euerychon Toke her rede. what was to done. Thoruȝ þe counselle of Archilaus, Barrabas and also Josephus Thei seid to Pylate her avyse: 'For vs is feyrer and more pryse, To fyȝt wiþ hem out in gesse, Than to lygge here in dystresse; And better is vs amonge hem to dye, Than here as cowardes longe lye.' Thei put planckes ouer þe dyche Al by nyȝt wel pryuelyche; Pylate anoon went him out Wiþ þirtty þousand at one route, And fyfty þousand men afote Hym to helpe þere come tobote. There was anoon swyþe stronge metyng Wiþ swerdes, speres, sharpe ker∣uyng. As we in þe story of hem mowe rede, Of eche party mochel folke was dede. Ac wiþ þe Emperoure þe felde þo lefte; Fourty þousand of hem he refde. Al þei dude hem forto fle Aȝeyn home into þe cytee. Al þe while, þat þei fouȝt, God lengþed þe day, as hem þouȝt. And Josephus was þere ywonded sore, That noble clerke, swyþe sore; He cowde most in dede and in sawe Of al, þat þere were of þe Jewys lawe; But one þing wol helpe him þan: He was priuelyche a cristenman. And for his kynne was noȝt so. Therfor he was wonder-wo. Tho the cyteȝeynes se þis fare, Than had þei sorowe and care, That þei so ouercome were. And also suche hungger gan hem dere, That þe stronge þe feble ete, Ȝee, and þe fen vnder her feete And her owne donge also. Hors ne hounde let þei none go, Hors, bestes, rote ne grasse, And eche by lotte oþer chasse. Whan two ȝeer were al ago, Thoruȝ þe sege gan come þis wo. Thoruȝ þe towne þan gan þei fayle Al manere of vytaille, So þat þe strengger robbed þat oþer, The fader þe sone, and þe suster þe broþer; Men and wymmen her childern ete, And eche ete oþer by þe strette. A ryche lady of þat countre Of large londes and of fe, Marye sche hiȝte, sykerliche, A crystenwoman priueliche, Sche had a queyntaunce in Jerusa∣lom, And þerfor sche þider come. A good lady, þat sche had yknowe, Wiþ hir sche þouȝt to dwelle a þrowe. Dame Claryce was hir name, A woman of wel holy fame. Thei lyued þere togeder longe, That þis wo byfylle so stronge. Oþer werke cowde þei none worche, But dwelle moche in holy chirche And lye in her afflixcions, In penaunce and in orysons. So hit byfylle, what more, what lesse, That þei were boþ in gret dy∣stresse. For defaute of mete and drynke That dye þei muste for any þinke. Hem was no lyflode ylost, But al forrobbed and al forrefte. Marye had a douȝtter dere, That for hunger dyed þere; For wham sche made moche sorowe Boþ an euen and a morowe. And þei hemself so gret hunger had, That Dame Claryce to Marye bad: 'Ete we nowe þis child anoon For þe hunger, þat vs is on.' 'Nay, quod Marye, þat wol I noȝt; Dye I wolde, or hit come in my þouȝt. Oure lord god, þat is so hende, Of his grace may vs sende; Be we noȝt for þis to sory, Hit may vs stonde in purgatorye.' So schul al, þat wel byleue, That no wo ne schal him greue. In þis talkyng, ryȝt as þei satte, Jesus crist hem noȝt forȝate. An aungel come fro heuene shene, As god him sent hem bytwene, And seid to hem: 'Letteþ ȝoure stryffe; Al þat ȝe mowe, lengþeþ ȝoure lyffe; Marye, loke nowe, þat þou do so, As charyte seid þe raþer to. God wol, þat ȝe do so, raþer þan ȝe dye, To fulfylle þe prophecye, That spekeþ of þis by waye and strete, That wymmen schal her childern ete. Grocheþ noȝt to fulfylle Al, þat is goddes wylle; Thouȝ ȝe dye in his nede, Heuene-blysse schal be ȝoure mede.' Whan þe aungel had seid his sawe, Aȝen to heuene he gan to drawe. Thei putte þe childe on a spytte Aȝens þe fyer, to roste hit, And dude, as þe aungel hem bad: Thei ete þerof and made hem glad. And as Pylate satte in his towre, Of roste he had a gret sauoure, And where hit was, anoon hit was outsouȝt; He bad, to him hit schulde be brouȝt. Thei went and founde, where hit was, And come and tolde him al þat cas. Than was Pylate noþing fawe, Whan þei had tolde þis sawe. And þo þe Jewes þider rune Vppon his erande þei bygune. The wymmen hungred and were ful wo, That þei her lyflode bare hem fro. For þis siȝt þei were in drede, That þei dude þat luþer dede. Pylate had hunger none, Thouȝ her vitaylles were al agon; Ne none of þe oþer gret, Thouȝ þe pore dyde for defaute of mete. For þei had þe noble stones Of gret vertye for þe nones, And þat made hem laste so longe, Tyl al þe peple hem amonge No lenger suffer ne wolde, Than god þat had þe termes tolde. Pylate þo in þe towne let crye And forbad þe felonye, That no man schuld no more ette In þat wyse her bygete. But gold and syluer ete he bad To al þilke, þat any had. Than þei ete her tresoure al, Boþ hey and corn wiþal. And ȝit for al þat dyed manyone, In euery street wel gret won; For hit was no kyndely fode In no stede hit hem stoode, But hem al to be kylde, Whan þe towne was ȝelde. For to haue out þe tresoure Men pyned hem wel þe bytteroure. Eche oþer day þei dude ete, For deynte þei helde hit swete. The wyff þe housbonde and þe hous∣bonde þe wyff, Eche bynome oþers lyff, Som wiþ teeþ oþer to gnawe, Som wiþ handes oþer to drawe. So þicke þei dyde by street and way For stynke of dede, þat adowne lay; For þe comyne raunsoun Thei buryed þe bodyes of þe towne, And whan hem fayled tresoure, Than dude þei burye hem no more, But leyde hem togeder alle, Thilke þat for hunger þere gune falle. Than stancke þe towne, hit was so fylde Of deed bodyes, þat lay vnhylde, That fader and moder, suster and broþer Dyde, þat no man myȝt burye oþer. Siþþe whan þe towne was ytake, Tytus mochel moone gan make; For þe peple so þicke laye On hepes, dyde by euery waye. Downe he fel uppon boþ knee. 'Lord, he seide, for me fader and me, For þoruȝ vs þei lye noȝt so deed, But for her owne feble rede. Had þei raþer yturned to vs, Than had þei noȝt leye þus.' Dyches þei let make and belde And þerin þe bodyes þei helde. Pylate anoon his counseille gan take, For drede þo he gan to quake. Thei seid to him: 'We redeþ þe, Let ȝelde vp anoon þe cytee; Thus, þinkeþ vs al, hit is þe best, Herein schul we haue no rest.' 'Nay, quod Pylate, þis is my rede: I wote, þer is no wey but deede; Ȝit we wol a while abyde For to se, what wol betyde. Thise lordes mowe dye, þat beþ without, Here amydde al þe rowte; Than dar we care litel wiþ alle, On wheþer syde so hit falle. Oþer we schul do, as I schal seye To seche vs helpe anoþer weye: Caste we, what we wol hem ȝeue Here to dwelle and to leue.' To þis þei graunted euerychon And cast, howe þei wold don. The while, þat þei cast hit so, The Emperoure seid to Jacob: 'Go And speke to som of þat cytee And wyte, at what poyntement þei be, And loke, wheþer þei wolle ȝelde þe towne Forto come out of pryson. For þei haueþ noȝt al her wylle, I trowe, for hunger þat som spylle. Go now þider for wete I wolde, Whereto we schulle vs holde. They dyed adowne in þe street For hunger and no meet. Sey, þei come and ȝelde hem vs to For at þe last þei schul do so.' Tho Jacob went to þe walle, A Jewe he sawe and he gan him calle. 'Clepe me þere, he seid, Josephus, Bydde him come and speke wiþ vs.' He wente and brouȝt him also swyþe; Jacob of him was ful blyþe And he of him was also. Than quod Josephus: 'Howe come þou vs fro?' He tolde him þo, howe hit was; And he seid þo: 'Deo gracias.' 'What, quod Jacob, art þou cristen?' 'Ȝee, felawe, he seid, wolt þou lys∣tenne: I am a preuy cristenman, And my feiþ ful wel I can: To loue Crist ful wel I owe. And þat I am to þe yknowe: This oþer day, þo we out nome, Whan þat ȝe vs ouercome, I was ywonded þere ful sore," That I was nyȝe deed þerfore; And þoruȝ þe myracle of Jesu Nowe I am ryȝt hole ynowe. My fader and moder I haue tolde To turne hem, and þei ne wolde; And þat I may noȝt hem bryngge þerto, Therfor, Jacob, me is ful wo.' 'Ȝee, quod Jacob, holde þe stylle And þou schalt haue al þi wylle; And I schal be for þe, ȝif I can, To my lord Waspasian; And al þilke, þat cristen be, Whan þis is do, þou schalt yse. Sey me nowe, howe fare ȝe þer within And whan schul we þe towne ywynne?' 'Mafey, he seid, I wol þe sey, Ful þicke oure folke gynneþ to dye, And for þe styncke, þat comeþ hem fro, In þe cytee dyeþ manyone þe mo. And þerfor we haueþ let make Amydde þe towne a gret lake; Al þilke, þat deed doþ falle, In þat lake we casteþ hem alle.' 'Mafey, quod Jacob, and so do we; And he seid: hit was firste þoruȝ me. Me þinkeþ, þei doþ gret folye To holde aȝens god and oure par∣tye; And ȝit I hope at þe laste To wynne þis towne þoruȝ my caste, As Pylate seid amydde þe towne. And þo he dude me in prison, That I and Veronye with good spede That we procured al þis nede. Forsoþe, he gabbed þerof ryȝt noȝt, I wene, þerto hit wol be brouȝt; Forsoþe, my broþer Josephus, I wysshed to god, hit myȝt be þus. And dame Veronye, þe good woman, Byfore þe styward Velesian I made þat dame Veronye ȝede For to boten þe Emperoures nede. Therfor I am with him pryue, So, I hope, ȝit þou schalt be. So helpe me Crist, nowe I am glad, That hit schal falle, as I bad. The Emperoure was wonder-syke And wende to haue ydyed eke; And god haþ heled him þoruȝ his grace, And also ymade him to seke þis place. He þinkeþ al þe Jewes shende, Er þat he hennys wol wende. He wyl neuer let þis towne, Tyl al togeder be bete adowne. Thou myȝt yse, hit is goddes wylle This veniaunce to fulfylle. By many tokens men may yse And þou wolt beþinke þe: Al þilke, þat beþ þerin, Beþ encombred in gret synne, But hit be any preuy crystenman Late yturned to god þan. And for þei wol no mercy craue, I telle þe, þei schul none haue Neiþer of god, ne of man, Neiþer of my lord Waspasian; For he and his sone Tytus, boþ, Wiþ al þe Jewes þei beþ so wroþ; That oþe þei made, þei nyl noȝt breke Ne leue þe sege, tyl þei be awreke. Therfor I prey þe, sey me sone, What þei þinkeþ þerin to done; Wheþer þei wol þe towne holde, Oþer haue ydo and vp hit ȝolde.' Josephus answerde him ful stylle: 'Jacob, hit was noȝt last her wylle, That þei wold also do. Whan þat I come to þe hem fro, I wote, forsoþ I telle hit þe, Hit dureþ noȝt long, as þinkeþ me. Me were wel leuer, we were wiþout, For we lyueþ here in doute. I wene, þei casteþ to make agree, Ȝif þei mowe, wiþ any fee. Prey for vs and be us for, That no cristenman be forlor. For had my lord Waspasian Ymade himself a cristenman And his sone wiþ al his ost, Er he come hyder, wel þou wost. For him hit had be sykernys, Than had we ȝelde vs boþ more and lesse. Ȝit is vs leuere to dye here in pyne, Than ȝelde vs to a Saraȝyne; But we holde vs worþi more, Tyl nede dryue vs to suffre sore. Fare wel, Jacob, my leue broþer, Ȝe schul sone wyte anoþer.' 'Nowe god of heuene be wiþ þe And al, þat þerein cristen be.' The Emperoure anoon he come to; Worde for worde he tolde him þo. Than answerde þe Emperoure: 'Sone I hope scape þis erroure. By þise wordes nowe I se, On haste þei schulle ȝelde be. Jacob, wake we al, þat we may. Hit nyȝeþ fast þe terme-day.' Josephus come þe Jewes to. 'Lordyngges, he seid, what wol ȝe do? Waspasian ne Tytus, his sone, For wreche leue þei ne kone. Tyl þei haue wreke her tene; And þat wol newlyche here bysene. So moche I wote, Syr Pylate, As I haue asspyed here nowe late, I can noȝt se no waye but one, That we be noȝt here deed euer∣ychon: Loke, what al oure folke wol sey, And doþ nowe ryȝt, as I ȝou prey. For certes, Syr, þe comynte Makeþ moone more þan we.' A crye was made, þat þe folke come al, Boþ þe gret and þe smal. Than Pylate seid: 'What rede ȝe nowe? We doþ vs al vppon ȝou.' The peple byfore him made a crye Ful rewþeful and ful gryslye And seid: 'Feyrer hit were to dye, Than in þis myschieff longe to lye.' And som of hem seid amonge: 'We lyeþ herein ysperryd to longe, We dyeþ here in gret dystresse. And þat is for oure wyckednesse, For we dude Messias to dye; Hit is his wylle, þat we hit abye, And þat sheweþ þe Romaynes ful wel, For to him we were unlele. Som tyme hit was, we fyndeþ hit so, That þe Romaynes þus schul do, Whan we and oure kynde ran Forto destroye þe good man. By þis we mowe knowe and se, The tyme is come, þat hit schal so be. Hit semeþ, Messias may fulfylle Of al þing to do his wylle; For lengger with no maner gynne Ne mowe we last for oure synne. He sheweþ wel, þat he is god al∣myȝt; We dude as foles wiþ him to fyȝt, We byddeþ his mercy al to late, And þou also, Syr Pylate. Therfor let vs al out gon, To ende oure sorowe ryȝt anoon.' 'And ȝit, seid som hem amonge, Wel better is shortte sorowe þan longe: To sle eche oþer fayrer hit ys, Than ȝelde vs vp and fare amys.' A eleuen þousand þere lost her lyff, Eche slowe oþer with his knyff; And for þe stynche, þat of hem come, Manyone his deþ þere þei nome. And þan þei cryed at one crye To Jesu crist, þat sytteþ an hiȝe: 'Aȝens þe lord we haue mysdon, That suche a wreche comeþ vs on. Nowe mowe we sey, as he dude, Whan he toward þe crosse ȝede; He bad vs wype noȝt for him, But for vs self and for oure kynne. We mowe warye al oure kynde For þe sorowe, þat we fynde; Wiþout ende mote þei care, That makeþ vs þus yuel to fare. Nowe is come, þat he vs behiȝt: Aȝens oure wrong he doþ vs ryȝt. Forþi, Pylate, ȝeue up þe towne And let vs go out of presoun; Oþer we schulle þe smertlyche take And al þe grettest eke forsake And ȝelde oureself þis cytee, Howe so euer hit of vs be. Thereof besy þe, Syr Pylate, Oþer þou schalt be siþþe ware al to late; For we mowe no lenger lyue, Hye, þat þe towne were vp yȝeue.' Whan Pylate sawe þis and Josephus, Barabas and Archilaus, Thei and þe peple went al And to þe Emperoure þei gan calle: 'The tyme is come, as we þe telle, That we ne mowe no lenger dwelle; For we haue do al, þat we may. Of seuene ȝeer þis is þe last day; Therfor, Syr, we þe preye, Wheþer schulle we lyue or dye or wende aweye.' Tho þe Emperoure þis wordes herde, Wiþ mochel ioye forþ he ferde. Also swyþe he gan downe falle On his knees byfore hem alle And seid: 'Welcome be goddes sonde, For he is lord of al londe. Nowe I se, he wol fulfylle, That I schal haue al my wylle.' He arose and spake to hem al: 'Hereþ nowe, what schal byfalle; That ȝe schulle hure yspeke and se: Ȝe schulle no mercy fynde in me! For ȝe slowe in þis stedde Jesu crist in his manheed Wiþout any gylte, al for eye; Nadde ȝe be, I had him seye. Ȝe haue fayled of his grace, So schulle ȝe of myn in þis place! Al my wylle I haue ȝou tolde, Whereto ȝe schulle now ȝou al holde.' Than seid þe kyng Archilaus: 'Syr Emperoure, schal hit nowe go þus?' He gan to rente a gappe wyde Adowne anoon be his syde; Anoon his swerde out he drowe And þerwiþ himself he slowe; He fel adowne tofore hem alle Into þe dyche ouer þe walle. 'Forsoþe, þo seid þe Emperoure, Archilaus was a traytoure; Therfor in suche a deþ he sterued, As he had ryȝt deserued. Go, burye him uppon al þing Wiþ honoure, for he was a kyng.' Pylate and al þei wente adowne To þe ȝate of þe towne, He went out þo, I vnderstonde, Wiþ þe keyes in his honde; The ȝate was openyd with sorowe most. And Tytus was redy wiþ his ost, When þe towne schulde be ȝelde and take. In þe pres gan outshake Josephus wiþ many a man Into þe cytee of Jenopoȝam, For to ascape al þe wo, That þe Jewes schuld to. The Emperoure wyst hit al in hast And sone after he was bycast Wiþ men of armes, wiþ many a gynne, Nyȝt and day þe towne to kepyn. And Josephus strongly þere wiþ∣stode, Er þat he wold shedde his bloode To þe Emperoure, Syr Waspasian, For he was no cristenman. But I am syker, at þe last The Emperoure þouȝt on him so fast, That þe sege he let be. And wiþ a. x. felawes he gan fle Vnder þe erþe into a caue, Hem to socoure and to saue. Whan her vytailles were al gon, His felawes seid euerychon: 'Syr, þus mowe we noȝt here lye; But ȝif we wol abyde and dye, Eche of vs schal oþer ete At þe last for nede of mete.' Than Josephus answerde as a man Queyntelyche, as nede was þan: 'Nay, hit wylle noȝt wel be so. Cast we lotte bytwene two and two, Whiche of vs schal oþer ete And whiche we schulle alyue lete. Holde ȝe al nowe to þis?' 'Ȝee, þe[i] seid, forsoþe ywys!' Thus eche of hem to nam, Tyl þat hit to Josephus cam, That þe lotte fyl him vppon; And dye he muste ryȝt anoon. But god wolde noȝt, þat he schuld dye þan, For his witte holpe many a man. Hys felawe gan þo his swerde to drawe And Josephus þerwiþ he wold haue slawe. Josephus þo—þat sotyl was— Sawe, þat he was nyȝe þat cas, He lepe on him, ryȝt as he cam, And his swerde he him bynam. The same dome he him gaue, That he schuld himself haue. And he hem lefte þere aloon And so he come out by him one Wiþ his swerde in his honde And to þe Emperoure þo he wonde. The Emperoure to him Josephus drowe And seid: 'Felawe, who art þou?' 'Syr, he seid, I hiȝt Josephus, That wrote þe story amonge vs, Al þat euer in wrytte I cowde fynde Amonge þe Jewes and al her kynde.' The Emperoure seid to him: 'þou art asspye, Thou schalt be bonde, tyl þou dye. For me þinkeþ, þou seyst amys; Ȝif þou haddest be so wyse, Whi haddyst þou noȝt ywarned hem to saue Fro þe harmes, þat þei schul haue?' 'Syr, seid Josephus him to, Vppon hem, þat hit hurde, ȝit I hit do, That I warned hem of þis cas Fele ȝeres, or hit was; And of her bokes I take wytnesse, That I haue wrytte, as I gesse.' The bokes of þe lawe were brouȝt echon, And þo him lyued manyone, And al þei wytnessed in þat stedde, That Josephus hit wrote and to hem so seid. Than spake Jacob for him þore: 'Al, þat he haþ ydo, I wol be fore.' Tho seid Syr Waspasian: 'Josephus, art þou a crystenman?' 'Ȝee, Syr, he seid, sykerly, But I haue ybore hit pryuely.' Ryȝt anoon he was vnbounde And þanked god þat ylke stounde. 'Syr, he seid, ȝif þou wolt loke, Ȝit þou schalt fynde in þis boke, That I seid: þin was þe honoure, Of Rome to be Emperoure, Fourty dayes, or hit fylle, And howe Syr Tytus forȝede his hele. And þoruȝ þe counselle ȝit of me I hope, hole þat he schal be.' Than was þe Emperoure ful glad And seid þo: 'I haue, þat I bad.' Than seid: 'Master Josephus, I nolde forgo my sone Tytus, And þou myȝt his lyffe saue; No þing but þin al þat I haue. Mochel honoure þe schal be ȝeue And þou may helpe him to lyue.' 'Syr, he seid, haue no drede, I hope ful wel, we schul spede.' He wente þo to Tytus swyþe, Of his companye he was blyþe. When Tytus hurde his faders sawe, To Josephus þan he gan him drawe. He loued siþþe Josephus most, Saue his fader, of al þe ost. On a day he seid to Josephus: 'Whan schal hit be do, þat þou hiȝttest vs?' 'Syr, he seid, to morowe-day Hit schal be do, ȝif I may. Come to morowe and ete with vs þan, And I schal be redy, ȝif þat I can. One forwarde I bydde, þat þou ne wreþe þe Wiþ þat man, þat I bryngge with me.' 'I schal come by þis couenaunt, Parfay, quod Tytus, and I graunt.' Josephus in his þouȝt gan cast And byþouȝt him at the last: Wiþ a ioye come his yuel, parfay, And wiþ a sorowe hit most away. Anoon he dude to spye þan, Ȝif þere were euer any man, That Tytus had hated stronge And þe wreþþe ylasted longe. Tho him was tolde of sucheone, He let him come forþ anoon; And ryȝt anoon he let calle The styward of þe kyngges halle. Tho seid Josephus: 'Good felawe, Wolt þou do after my sawe, Loke, þat þou assent to me nowe For Tytus loue and for his prowe.' 'Syr, he seid, sykerlyche, I grauntte to do hit bleþelyche.' 'Wel, seid Josephus, also sone As mete-tyme is at noon, Do me feche a lytel borde Ryȝt byfore Tytus, my lord; And þerat schal þis man be set. And loke, þat him be mete yfet, Gret plente, and also drynke, As schal come byfore a kyng. And ȝif I rehete him, do þou so.' 'Syr, quod þe styward, hit schal be do.' Al þis was ydo worde for worde. Tho þe man satte at þe kyngges borde, Tytus was agreued in his þouȝt, How þis man was þider y-brouȝt. Thus he satte agreued longe, That mete ne drynke wold he none fonge. For tene he chaunged al his mode, That suche an heet come in his blode, That his yuel him forsoke And neuer after him ne toke. Josephus þan byhelde þis man And comforte him, þo he bygan; And þe styward dude also Wiþ fayre semblante and speche þerto.

Auf eine durchgehende Säuberung des Textes, wozu viel Anlass vorhanden wäre, sowie auf eine sprachliche und stilistische Untersuchung des Denkmals verzichte ich, da die hier abge∣druckte Hs. nicht die einzige ist, die wir besitzen.

'Vindicta Salvatoris' ist nämlich, wie Walter Suchier gesehen hat, eine Teilfassung der me. Dichtung 'Vengeaunce of goddes deth' oder 'Battle of Jerusalem', ohne die ersten 812 Verse und mit vielen abweichenden Lesarten. Von der 'Vengeaunce' waren bisher sechs Hss. bekannt; heizu kommt jetzt die oben gedruckte als siebente. Alle weitere Forschung wird warten müssen, bis F. Bergau wenigstens von den vier Hss., die ihm zugänglich sind, seine lange geplante Ausgabe veröffentlicht; vgl. inzwischen seine Diss. (Untersuchungen über Quelle und Verfasser des me. Reim∣gedichts 'The vengeaunce of goddes deth', Königsberg 1901) und dazu die Anzeige von Walter Suchier, Archiv CXI 285-298.