Page:Ludus Coventriae (1841).djvu/205

 I am sent fro God, Deth is my name! Alle thynge that is on grownd I welde at my wylle; Bothe man and beste, and byrdys, wylde and tame, Whan that I come them to, with deth I do them kylle. Erbe, gres, and tres stronge, take hem alle in same; ȝa, the grete myghty okys with my dent I spylle; What man that I wrastele with, he xal ryght sone have schame, — I ȝeve him suche a trepett, he xal evyr more ly stylle, ffor deth kan no sporte. Wher I smyte, ther is no grace, ffor aftere my strook man hath no space To make amendys ffor his trespace, But God hym graunt comforte.

Ow! se how prowdely ȝon kaytyff sytt at mete! Of deth hath he no dowte, he wenyth to leve evyrmore; To hym wyl I go, and ȝeve hym suche an hete, That alle the lechis of the londe his lyf xul nevyr restore: Aȝens my dredful dentys it vaylyth nevyr to plete, Or I hym part fro I xal hym make ful pore; Alle the blood of his body I xal hym owt swete, ffor now I go to sle hym with strokys sad and sore, This tyde. Bothe hym and his knyghtes alle, I xal hem make to me but thralle, With my spere sle him I xalle, And so cast down his pride.

Herodes Rex. Now, kende knyghtes, be mery and glad! With alle good diligens shewe now sum myrthe! ffor, be gracyous Mahound, more myrthe never I had, Ne nevyr more joye was inne from tyme to tyme of my byrthe; ffor now my fo is ded and prendyd as a padde,