Page:Ludus Coventriae (1841).djvu/388

 Cleophas. Sey nott so, man, it may not be, Thow thyn exaumple be sumdele good; ffor Jonas on lyve evyr more was he, And Cryst was slayn upon a rood. The Jewys on hym they were so wood, That to his herte a spere they pyght, He bled owt alle his herte blood; How xulde the thanne ryse with myght?

Christus. Take hede at Aaron and his dede styk, Whiche was ded of his nature, And ȝit he floryschyd with flowres ful thyk, And bare almaundys of grett valure. The dede styk was signifure, Holy Cryst that shamfully was deed and slayn, As that dede styk bare frute ful pure, So Cryst xuld ryse to lyve ageyn.

Lucas. That a deed styk ffrute xulde bere, I merveyle sore therof i-wys; But ȝitt hymsylf ffro dethe to rere, And leve ageyn, more woundyr it is. That he doth leve, I trost not this, ffor he hath bled his blood so red; But ȝitt of myrthe evyr moor I mys, Whan I have mende that he is ded.

Christus. Why be ȝe so harde of truste? Dede not Cryste reyse, thorwe his owyn myght, Laȝarus that deed lay undyr the duste, And stynkyd ryght foule, as I ȝow plyght? To lyff Cryst reysid hym aȝen ful ryght Out of his grave, this is serteyn; Why may nat Cryste hymself thus qwyght, And ryse from dethe to lyve ageyn?