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 Jhesus. A! ȝe ffonnys and slought of herte ffor to beleve in holy Scrypture! Have not prophetys with wurdys smerte, Spoke be tokenys in signifure, That Cryste xuld deye ffor ȝour valure, And syth entre his joye and blys? Why be ȝe of herte so dure, And trust not in God that myghtful is?

Bothe Moyses and Aaron and othyr mo, In holy Scrypture ȝe may rede it, Of Crystis dethe thei spak also, And how he xuld ryse out of his pitt. Owt of ffeyth than why do ȝe fflitte, Whan holy prophetys ȝow teche so pleyne? Turne ȝour thought and chaunge ȝour witte, And truste wele that Cryst dothe leve ageyne.

Lucas. Leve ageyn! man, be in pes; How xulde a ded man evyr aryse? I cowncelle the suche wurdys to ses, ffor dowte of Pylat, that hyȝ justyce. He was slayn at the gre asyse, Be councelle of lordys many on; Of suche langage take bettyr avyse, In every company ther thou dost gon.

Christus. Trewthe dyd nevyr his maystyr shame; Why xulde I ses than trewth to say? Be Jonas the prophete I preve the same, That was in a whallys body iij. nyghtis and iij. day; So longe Cryst in his grave lay, As Jonas was withinne the se; His grave is brokyn that was of clay, To lyff resyn aȝen now is he.