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The Skynners

XXV.The entry into Jerusalem upon the Ass
  
  

 1. 
 2. 
 3. 
[Scene III]
 4. 

[Scene III]

Bethphage, and on the road to Jerusalem.
39.
Pet.
Jhesu! lord and maistir free,
Als þou comaunde so haue we done,
Þis asse here we haue brought to þe,
What is þi wille þou schewe vs sone,
And tarie noȝt.
And þan schall we, with-outen hune,
Fulfill þi þouȝt.

40.
Jesus.
I þanke ȝou breþere, mylde of mode,
Do on þis asse youre cloþis ȝe laye,
And lifte me vppe with hertis gud,
Þat I on hir may sitte þis daye,
In my blissing.

[They lift Jesus on to the ass.
Phil.
Lord þi will to do all-way
We graunte þing.


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41.
Jesus.
Now my breþere with gud chere,
Gyues gode entente, for ryde I will
Vn-to ȝone cyte ȝe se so nere,
Ȝe shall me folowe, sam & still
Als I are sayde.

Phil.
Lord! as þe lyfe we graunte þe till,
And halde vs payde.

[Jesus rides along towards Jerusalem.
42.
Cecus.
A lorde! þat all þis world has made,
Boþe sonne and mone, nyght & day,
What noyse is þis þat makis me gladde?
Fro whens it schulde come I can noȝt saye,
Or what it mene.
Yf any man walke in þis way,
Telle hym me be-dene.

43.
Paup.
Man! what ayles þe to crye?
Where wolde þou be? þou say me here.

Cecus.
A! sir, a blynde man am I,
And ay has bene of tendyr ȝere
Sen I was borne,
I harde a voyce with nobill chere
Here me be-forne.

44.
Paup.
Man, will þou oght þat I can do?

Cecus.
Ȝa, sir, gladly wolde [I] witte,
Yf þou couþe oght declare me to,
This myrþe I herde, what mene may it,
Or vndirstande?

Paup.
Jesu, þe prophite full of grace,
Comys here at hande,
45.
And all þe cetezens þay are bowne
Gose hym to mete with melodye,

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With þe fayrest processioune
That euere was sene in þis Jury.
He is right nere.

Cecus.
Sir, helpe me to þe strete hastely,
Þat I may here
46.
Þat noyse, and also þat I myght thurgh grace
My syght of hym, to craue I wolde.

Paup.
Loo! he is here at þis same place,
Crye faste on hym, loke þou be bolde,
With voyce righ[t] high.

Cecus.
Jesu! þe son of dauid calde.
Þou haue mercy!
47.
Allas! I crye, he heris me noȝt,
He has no ruthe of my mysfare,
He turnes his herre, where is his þought?

Paup.
Cry som-what lowdar, loke þou noȝt spare,
So may þou spye.

Cecus.
Jesu, þe saluer of all sare,
To me giffis gode hye.

48.
Phel.
Cesse man, and crye noȝt soo,
The voyce of þe pepill gose þe by,
Þe ag[h]e sette still and tente giffe to,
Here passeȝ þe prophite of mercye.
Þou doys amys.

Cecus.
A! dauid sone, to þe I crye,
Þe kyng of blisse.

49.
Pet.
Lorde! haue mercy and late hym goo,
He can noȝt cesse of his crying,
He folows vs both to and froo,
Graunte hym his boone and his askyng,
And late hym wende.
We gette no reste or þat þis thyng
Be broȝt to ende.


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50.
Jesus.
What wolde þou man I to þe dede
In þis present, telle oppynly.

Cecus.
Lorde my syght is fro me hydde,
Þou graunte me it, I crye mercy,
Þis wolde I haue.

Jesu.
Loke vppe nowe with chere blythely,
Þi faith shall þe saue.

51.
Cecus.
Wirschippe and honnoure ay to þe,
With all þe seruice þat can be done,
The kyng of blisse loued mote he be,
Þat þus my sight hathe sente so sone,
And by grete skill.
I was are blynde as any stone;
I se at wille.

52.
Clau.
A! wele wer þam þat euere had liffe,
Old or yonge whedir it were,
Might welde þer lymmes withouten striffe,
Go with þis mirthe þat I see here,
And contynewe,
For I am sette in sorowes sere
Þat ay ar newe.
53.
Þou lord, þat schope both nyght and day,
For thy mercy haue mynde on me,
And helpe me lorde, as þou wele may;
I may noȝt gang.
For I am lame, as men may se,
And has ben lang.
54.
For wele I wote, as knowyn is ryffe,
Boþe dome and deffe þou grauntist þam grace,
And also þe dede þat þou hauyst geuen liff,
Therfore graunte me lord, in þis place,
My lymbis to welde.


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Jesus.
My man, ryse and caste þe cruchys gode space
Her in þe felde.
55.
And loke in trouthe þou stedfast be,
And folow me furth with gode menyng.

Claud.
Lorde! lo, my crouchis whare þei flee,
Als ferre as I may late þam flenge
With bothe my hende;
Þat euere we haue metyng
Now I defende.
56.
For I was halte both lyme and lame,
And I suffered tene and sorowes i-nowe,
Ay lastand lord, loued be þi name,
I am als light as birde on bowe.
Ay be þou blist,
Such grace hast þou schewed to me,
Lorde, as þe list.

57.
Zach.
Sen first þis worlde was made of noȝt,
And all thyng sette in equite,
Such ferly thyng was neuere non wroght,
As men þis tyme may see with eye.
What it may mene?
I can noȝt say what it may be,
Comforte or tene.
58.
And cheffely of a prophete new,
Þat mekill is profite, and þat of latte,
Both day and nyght þai hym assewe,
Oure pepill same thurgh strete & gatte,
[new lawes to lare,]
Oure olde lawes as nowe þei hatte,
And his kepis ȝare.
59.
Men fro deth to liffe he rayse,
The blynde and dome geve speche and sight,

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Gretely þerfore oure folke hym prayse,
And folowis hym both day and nyght;
Fro towne to towne;
Thay calle hym prophite be right,
As of renowne.
60.
And ȝit I meruayle of þat thyng,
Of puplicans sen prince am I
Of hym I cowthe haue no knowyng;
Yf all I wolde haue comen hym nere,
Arly and late,
For I am lawe, and of myne hight
Full is þe gate.
61.
Bot sen no bettir may be-falle,
I thynke what beste is for to doo,
I am schorte, ȝe knawe wele all,
Þerfore ȝone tre I will go too,
And in it clyme;
Whedir he come or passe me fro,
I schall se hym.
62.
A nobill tree þou secomoure,
I blisse hym þat þe on þe erþe brought.
Now may I see both here and þore,
That vndir me it may be noȝt.
Þerfore in þe
Wille I bidde in herte & þought
Till I hym se
63.
Vn-to þe prophete come to towne
Her will I bide what so befalle

Jesus
[looking up].
Do Zache, do fast come downe.

Zach.
Lorde even at þi wille hastely I schall,
And tarie noght.
To þe on knes lord here I shall,
For sinne I wroght.

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64.
And welcome prophete, trast and trewe,
With all þe pepull þat to þe langis.

Jesus.
Zache, þi seruice new
Schall make þe clene of all þe wrong,
Þat þou haste done.

Zach.
Lorde, I lette noȝt for þis thrang
Her to say sone,
65.
Me schamys with sinne, but noȝt to mende,
I synne for-sake, þerfore I will
Haue my gud I have vnspendid
Poure folke to geue it till;
Þis will I fayne.
Whom I begylyd to him I will
Make a-sith agayne.

66.
Jesus.
Thy clere confessionn schall þe clense,
Þou may be sure of lastand lyffe,
Vn-to þi house, with-outen offense,
Is graunted pees withouten striffe.
Fare-wele, Zache!

Zach.
Lord, þe lowte ay man and wiffe,
Blist myght þou be.

67.
Jesus.
My dere discipulis, beholde and see,
Vn-to Jerusalem we schall assende,
Man sone schall þer be-trayed be,
And gevyn in-to his enmys hande,
With grete dispitte.
Ther spitting on hym þer schall þei spende
And smertly smyte.
[Jesus dismounts.]
68.
Petir, take þis asse me fro,
[Peter goes.
And lede it where þou are it toke.
I murne, I sigh, I wepe also,

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Jerusalem on þe to loke!
And so may þou,
Þat euere þou þi kyng for-suke,
And was vn-trewe.
69.
For stone on stone schall none be lefte,
But doune to þe grounde all schalbe caste,
Thy game, þi gle, al fro þe refte,
And all for synne þat þou done hast.
Þou arte vnkynde!
Agayne þi kyng þou hast trespast,
Haue þis in mynde.