Play 32
Pilate
Pees, bewscheres, I bidde you, that beldis here aboute me,
Line 1
And loke that yoe stirre with no striffe but stande stone still,
Or by the lorde that me liffe lente I schall garre you lowte me,
And all schall byde in my bale that wirkis noyot my will.
Ye rebaldis that regnys in this rowte,
YOe stynte of youre steuenyng so stowte,
Or with this brande that dere is to doute
All to dede I schall dryue you this day.
For sir Pilate of Pounce as prince am Y preued,
As renke moste royall in richeste array,
THer is no berne in this burgh has me aboute heuyd,
But he sekis me for souereyne, in certayne Y saie,
To knawe.
Therfore take hede to youre lordis estate,
THat none jangill nor jolle at my yoate,
Nor no man to grath hym no gate
Tille I haue seggid and saide all my sawe.
For I ame the luffeliest lappid and laide,
With feetour full faire in my face,
My forhed both brente is and brade
And myne eyne thei glittir like the gleme in the glasse.
And the hore that hillis my heed
Is even like to the golde wyre,
My chekis are bothe ruddy and reede
And my coloure as cristall is cleere.
Ther is no prince preuyd vndir palle
But I ame moste myghty of all to behold,
Nor no kyng but he schall come to my call,
Nor grome that dare greue me for golde.
Sir Kayphas, thurgh counsaill thi clergy is kid,
For thy counsaille is knowyn for connand and clere;