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Mary Magdalene
Peter
Paul
Apostle 3
Apostle 4
Apostle 5
Jesus
Apostle 6
Apostle 7
Apostle 8
Apostle 9
Apostle 10
Thomas
Thomas Indie
Hayll, brether, and God be here.
I bryng to amende youre chere:
Trist ye it and knawe
He is rysen, the soth to say.
I met hym goyng bi the way;
He bad me tell it you.
Do way, woman, thou carpys wast.
It is som spirite or els som gast;
Othere was it noght.
We may trow on no kyns wyse
That ded man may to lyfe ryse.
This then is oure thoght.
It may be sothe for mans mede
The Jues maide hym grymly blede
Thrugh feete, handys, and syde;
With nayles on rode thay dyd hym hang,
Wherfor, woman, thou says wrang,
As myght I blys abide.
Do way youre threpyng! Ar ye wode?
I sagh hym that dyed on roode
And with hym spake with mowth.
Therfor you both, red I,
Putt away youre heresy;
Tryst it stedfast and cowth.
Do way, woman; let be thi fare
For shame and also syn;
If we make never sich care,
His lyfe may we not wyn.
And it is wretyn in oure law:
Ther is no trust in womans saw,
No trust faith to belefe,
For with thare quayntyse and thare gyle
Can thay laghe and wepe somwhile
And yit nothyng theym grefe.
In oure bookes thus fynde we wretyn —
All manere of men well it wyttyn —
Of women on this wyse:
Till an appyll she is lyke;
Withoutten faill ther is none slyke
In horde ther it lyse.
Bot if a man assay it wittely,
It is full roten inwardly,
At the colke within.
Wherfor in woman is no laghe,
For she is withoutten aghe,
As Crist me lowse of syn.
Therfor trast we not trystely,
Bot if we sagh it witterly
Then wold we trastly trow;
In womans saw affy we noght,
For thay ar fekill in word and thoght,
This make I myne avowe.
As be I lowsid of my care,
It is as trew as ye stand thare,
By hym that is my brothere.
I dar lay my heede to wed
Or that we go untill oure bed
That we shall here anothere.
If it be sothe that we here say,
Or this thrid day be away
The sothe then mon we se.
Bot it be sothe to trow
As ye mon here, els pray I you
For fals that ye hold me.
Waloway, my lefe deres.
There I stand in this sted,
Sich sorow my hart sheres
For rewth I can no red.
Sen that Mawdleyn witnes beres
That Jesus rose from ded,
Myn ees has letten salt teres
On erthe to se hym trede.
Bot alas that ever I woke
That carefull catyf nyght,
When I for care and cold qwoke
By a fyre burnyng full bright,
When I my Lord Jesu forsoke
For drede of womans myght.
A rightwys dome I will me loke,
That I tyne not that semely sight.
Bot ever alas, what was I wode.
Myght no man be abastir.
I saide if he nede bestode
To hym shuld none be trastir;
And for a woman that there stode
That spake to me of frastir,
I saide I knew not that good
Creature, my master.
Alas, that we fro thee fled,
That we ne had with thee gone.
When thou with Jues was sted,
With thee was dwelland none
Bot forsoke thee that us fed,
For we wold not be tayn;
We were as prysoners sore adred
With Jues for to be slayn.
Now Jesu, for thi lyfe swete
Who hath thus mastryd thee,
That in the breede that we eytt
Thiself gyffen wold be,
And sythen thrugh handys and feytt
Be nalyd on a tre?
Grauntt us grace that we may yit
Thi light in manhede se.
Tunc venit Jesus et cantat “pax vobis” et non tardabit. 1
Hec est dies quam fecit dominus: 2
This is the day that God maide;
All be we glad and blythe.
The Holy Gost before us glad
Full softly on his sithe.
Red clethyng apon he had
And blys to us can kith;
Softly on the erthe he trade,
Full myldly he did lythe.
This dede thrugh God is done
Thus in all oure sight.
Mighty God, true kyng in trone,
Whose Son in Marye light,
Sende us, Lord, thi blissid bone,
As thou art God of myght,
Sothly to se hym sone
And have of hym a sight.
Iterum venit Jesus et cantat “pax vobis” et non tardabit. 3
Whoso commys in Goddys name
Ay blissid mot he be;
Mightfull God shelde us fro shame
In thi moder name Marie.
Thise wykid Jues will us blame;
Thou grauntt us for to se
The self body and the same
The which that died on tre.
Peasse emangys you everichon.
It is I, drede you noght,
That was wonte with you to gone
And dere with ded you boght.
Grope and fele flesh and bone
And fourme of man well wroght;
Sich thyng has goost none.
Loke wheder ye knawe me oght.
My rysyng fro dede to lyfe
Shall no man agane moytt;
Behold my woundes fyfe
Thrugh handys, syde, and foytt.
To ded can luf me dryfe
And styrryd my hart roytt;
Of syn who will hym shryfe
Thyes woundys shal be his boytt.
For oon so swete a thyng
Myself so lefe had wroght,
Man sawll, my dere derlyng,
To batell was I broght.
For it thay can me dyng
To bryng out of my thoght;
On roode can thay me hyng,
Yit luf forgate I noght.
Luf makys me, as ye may se,
Strenkyllid with blood so red
Luf gars me have hart so fre
It opyns every sted.
Luf so fre so dampnyd me
It drofe me to the ded.
Luf rasid me thrug his pausté;
It is swetter then med.
Wytterly, man, to thee I cry:
Thou yeme my Fader fere.
Thyn awne sawll kepe cleynly
Whyls thou art wardan here;
Slo it not with thi body
Synnyng in synnes sere.
On me and it thou have mercy,
For I have boght it dere.
Mi dere freyndys, now may ye se
Forsoth that it is I
That dyed apon the roode tre
And sythen rose bodely.
That it allgatys sothfast be
Ye shall se hastely;
Of youre mett gif ye me
Sich as ye have redy.
Paratur mensa et offerat sextus apostolus favum mellis et piscem, dicendo, 4
Lord, lo, here a rostid fish
And a comb of hony
Laide full fare in a dish
And full honestly.
Here is none othere mett bot this
In all oure company,
Bot well is us that we have this
To thi lykyng only.
Mi dere Fader of heven
That maide me borne to be
Of a madyn withoutten steven
And sithen to die on tre,
From ded to lif at set stevyn,
Rasid me thrugh thi paustee
With the wordys that I shall neven,
This mette thou blis thrugh me:
In the Fader name and the Son
And the Holy Gast,
Thre persons to knaw and con
In oone godhede stedfast,
I gif this mett my benyson
Thrugh wordys of myghtys mast.
Now will I ette as I was won
My manhede eft to tast.
My dere freyndys, lay hand till,
Eyttys for charité.
I ette at my Fader will;
At my will ette now ye.
That I ette is to fulfill
That writen is of me
In Moyses law, for it is skyll
Fulfillyd that it be.
Myn ye noght that I you told
In certan tyme and sted,
When I gaf myself to wold
To you in fourme of bred,
That my body shuld be sold,
My bloode be spylt so red,
This cors gravyn ded and cold
The thrid day ryse fro ded?
Youre hartes was fulfillyd with drede
Whyls I have fro you bene,
The rysyng of my manhede
Unethes wold ye weyn.
Of trouth now may ye spede
Thorow stedfast wordys and cleyn.
Leyf freyndys, trow now the dede
That ye with ees have sene.
Ye have forthynkyng and shame
For youre dysseferance;
I forgif you the blame.
In me now have affyance.
The folk that ar with syn lame,
Preche theym to repentance.
Forgif syn in my name;
Enjoyne theym to penance.
The grace of the Holy Gost to wyn,
Resave here at me
The which shall never blyn.
Hic respirat in eos. 5
I gif you here pausté:
Whom in erth ye lowse of syn
In heven lowsyd shall be,
And whom in erthe ye bynd therin
In heven bonden be he.
Hic discedet ab eis. 6
Jesu Crist in Trynyté,
Jesu to cry and call
That borne was of a madyn fre,
Thou save us synfull all;
For us hanged apon a tre,
Drank asell and gall,
Thi servandys save fro vanyté
In wanhope that we not fall.
Brethere, be we stabyll of thoght,
Wanhope put we away
Of mysbelefe that we be noght;
For we may safly say
He that mankynde on rood boght
Fro dede rose the thryd day;
We se the woundys in hym was wroght,
All blody yit were thay.
He told us fyrst he shuld be tayn
And for mans syn shuld dy,
Be ded and beryd under a stayn
And after ryse up bodely;
Now is he quyk fro grafe gon
He cam and stode us by
And lete us se ilkon
The woundys of his body.
Deth that is so kene
Jesu overcomen has;
As he us told yit may we mene
Fro ded how he shuld pas.
Jesu stode witnes betwene
That with hym dwelland was;
All his dyscyples has hym sene,
Safe oonly Thomas.
If that I prowde as pacok go,
My hart is full of care;
If any sorow myght a man slo,
My hart in sonder it share.
Mi life wyrkys me all this wo;
Of blys I am full bare,
Yit wold I nawthere freynd ne fo
Wyst how wo me ware. 7
Jesu, my lyfe so good,
Ther none myght better be,
None wysere man then better food,
Nor none kyndere then he:
The Jues have nalyd his cors on rood,
Nalyd with nales thre,
And with a spere thay spylt his blood;
Great sorow it was to se.
To se the stremes of blood ryn,
Well more then doyll it was,
Sich great payn for mans syn,
Sich doyllfull ded he has.
I have lyfid withoutten wyn
Sen he to ded can pas,
For he was fare of cheke and chyn.
For doyll of ded, alas.
Hic pergit ad discipulos. 8
Myghty God for to dyscryfe,
That never dyed ne shall
Wo and wandreth from you dryfe
That ye not therin fall.
He thee save with woundys fyfe,
His Son Jesu to call,
That rose from deth to lyfe
And shewyd hym till us all.
Whannow, Peter, art thou mad?
On lyfe who was hym lyke?
For his deth I am not glad;
For sorow my hart will breke,
That with the Jues he was so stad
To ded they can hym wreke.
Thou hym forsoke, so was thou rad
When they to thee can speke.
Let be, leyf brothere Thomas,
And turne thi thoght belyfe,
For the thryd day Jesus rase
Fleshly fro ded to lyfe.
Till us all he cam apase
And shewyd his woundys fyfe
And lyfyng man, and etten hase
Hony takyn of a hyfe.
Let be, for shame. Apartly
Fantom dyssavys thee.
Ye sagh hym not bodely;
His gost it myght well be,
For to glad youre hartes sory
In youre adversyté.
He luffyd us well and faythfully,
Therfor sloes sorow me.
Thou wote, Thomas, and sothe it was,
And oft has thou hard say
How a fysh swalod Jonas:
Thre dayes therin he lay,
Yit gaf God hym myght to pas
Whyk man to wyn away;
Might not God that sich myght has
Rase his Son apon the thryd day?
Man, if thou can understand,
Cryst saide hisself, mynnys me,
That all lokyn was in his hande,
All oone was God and he,
The son wax marke, all men seand,
When he died on the tre.
Therfor am I full sore dredand
That who myght his boote be.
The Holy Gost in Marye light,
And in hir madynhede
Goddys Son she held, and dight
And cled hym in manhede;
For luf he wentt as he had hight
To fight withoutten drede;
When he had termynd that fight,
He skypt outt of his wede.
If he skypt outt of his clethyng
Yit thou grauntys his cors was ded;
It was his cors that maide shewyng
Unto you in his sted?
For to trow in youre carpyng
My hart is hevy as led;
His dede me bryngys in great mowrneyng,
And I withoutten red.
The gost went to hell apase
Whils the cors lay slayn,
And broght the sawles from Sathanas
For which he suffred payn.
The thryd day right he gase
Right unto the cors agayn;
Mighty God and man he rose
And therfor ar we fayn.
All sam to me ye flyte,
Youre resons fast ye shawe;
Bot tell me a skyll perfyte,
Any of you on raw:
When Cryst cam you to vysyte,
As ye tell me with saw,
A whyk man from spyryte,
Wherby couth ye hym knaw?
Thomas, unto thee anone
Herto answere I will:
Man has both flesh and bone,
Hu hyde and hore thertill;
Sich thyng has goost none.
Thomas, lo, here thi skyll:
Goddys Son toke of Mary flesh and bone;
What nede were els thertill?
Thou has answerd me full wele
And full skylfully,
Bot my hart is harde as stele
To trow in sich mastry.
Say, bad he any of you fele
The woundys of his body,
Flesh or bone or ilka dele,
To assay his body?
Yis, Thomas, he bad us se
And handill hym with hande
To loke wheder it were he,
Jesu, man lyfand
That dyed apon a tre.
Flesh and bone we fand;
His woundes had bene pyté
To towch that were bledand.
Waloway, ye can no good.
Youre resons ar defaced;
Ye ar as women, rad for blood
And lightly oft solaced.
It was a goost before you stod,
Lyke hym in blood betraced;
His cors that dyed on rood
Forever hath deth embraced.
Certys, Thomas, gretter care
Myght no synfull wight have
Then she had that wepyd so sare,
The Mawdleyn at his grave;
For sorow and doyll hir awne hare
Of hir hede she rent and rafe.
Jesu shewid hym till hir thare,
Hir sorow of syn to safe.
Lo, sich foly with you is,
Wysemen that shuld be,
That thus a womans witnes trowys
Better then that ye se.
In all youre skylles, more and les,
For mysfowndyng fayll ye;
Might I se Jesu, gost and flesh,
Gropyng shuld not gab me.
Lefe, Thomas, flyte no more
Bot trow and turne thi red,
Or els say us when and whore
Crist gabbyd in any sted,
For he saide us when thou was thore
When he hym gaf in bred
That he shuld salfe all oure sore
Quyk rysand fro ded.
He was full sothfast in his sawes,
That dar I hertly say,
And rightwys in all his lawes
Whils that he lyfyd ay,
Bot sen he shuld thole hard thrawes
On tre whils that he lay,
Dede has determyd his dayes;
His lyfe noght trow I may.
Thyne hard hart thi saull will dwyrd,
Thomas, bot if thou blyn.
He has ded conquerd
And weshen us all fro syn;
May nawder knyfe ne swerde
Hym eft to ded wyn.
Goddys myght in hym apperd
That nevermore shall blyn.
That God I trow full wele
Goostly to you light,
Bot bodely never a dele,
Jesu that woundid wyght.
My hart is harde as stele
To trow in sich a myght,
Bot if I that wounde myght fele
That hym gaf Longeus the knyght.
That wounde have we sene, Thomas,
And so has mo then we;
With Lucas and with Cleophas
He welke a day jurnee;
Thare hartes that for hym sory was
With prophecy comforted he.
To Emaus castell can thai pas
Ther hostyld thai all thre.
Jesu, Goddys Son of heven,
At sopere satt betweyn;
Ther bred he brake as even
As it cutt had beyn.
Nothyng that ye may neven
His rysyng gars me weyn;
If ye me told sich seven
The more ye myght me teyn.
Thomas, brothere, turne thi thoght
And trust that I say thee:
Jesu so dere has boght
Oure synnes apon a tree,
Which rysyng hath broght
Adam and his meneyee.
Lett be youre fayr; shew it noght
That he efte quyk shuld be.
That must thou nedelyngys trow
If thou thi saull will save,
For that we saw we dar avowe:
Jesu rose quyk from grave.
I have you saide and yit dos now
Thise wordes to wast ye have.
He shewid hym not to you;
For mysfoundyng ye rafe.
For we say that we have sene
Thou holdys us wars then wode.
Jesu lyfyng stod us betwene,
Oure Lord that with us yode.
I say ye wote never what ye mene.
A goost before you stode;
Ye wenyd that it had bene
The cors that died on roode.
The cors that dyed on tre
Was berid in a stone;
The thurgh beside fande we
And in that grave cors was none.
His sudary ther myght we se,
And he thens whik was gone.
Noght bot stolne is he,
With Jues that hym have slone.
Certys, Thomas, thou sais not right.
Thay wold hym not stele
For thay gart kepe hym day and nyght
With knyghtys that they held lele;
He rose has we have sene in sight
Fro all the Jues fele.
I lefe not bot if I myght
Myself with hym dele.
He told us tythyngys, Thomas,
Yit mynnys me,
That as Jonas thre dayes was
In a fysh in the see,
So shuld he be, and bene has
In erth by dayes thre,
Pas fro ded, ryse — and rase
As he saide, done has he.
Certys, that worde I harde hym say,
And so harde ye hym all,
Bot for nothyng trow I may
That it so shuld befall,
That he shuld ryse the thrid day
That dranke asell and gall.
Sen he was God and ded lay,
From ded who myght hym call?
The Fader that hym sent
Rasid hym that was ded.
He comforth us in mowrnyng lent
And counseld us in red:
He bad us trow with good intent
His rysyng in every sted.
Thyne absens gars thi saull be shent
And makys thee hevy as led.
Thou says soth: harde and hevy am I
To trow that ye me say.
Mi hardnes I trow skilfully,
For he told us thus ay
That his Fader was ever hym by
For all bot oon were thay.
That he rose bodely
For nothyng trow I may.
May thou not trow withoutten mo
Forsothe that it was he?
Thomas, wherto shuld we say so?
Then wenys thou fals we be.
I wote youre hartes was full wo
And fownd with vanyté.
If ye swere all and ye were mo
I trow it not or that I se.
Thomas, of errowre thou blyn
And till us turne thi mode.
Trow his rysyng by dayes threyn
Sen he died on the rode.
Noght bot I myght my fynger wyn
In sted as nayle stode,
And his syde my hande put in
Ther he shed his hart bloode.
Brethere, all be with you peasse.
Leaffe stryfe that now is here.
Thomas, of thyn errowre seasse,
Of sothe witnes thou bere.
Putt thi hande in my syde, no fres,
Ther Longeus put his spere.
Loke, my rysyng be no les;
Let no wanhope thee dere.
Mercy, Jesu, rew on me:
My hande is blody of thi blode!
Mercy, Jesu, for I se
Thi myght that I not understode.
Mercy, Jesu, I pray thee,
That for all synfull died on roode;
Mercy, Jesu, of mercy fre,
For thi goodnes that is so goode.
Kest away my staf will I
And with no wepyn gang;
Mercy will I call and cry,
Jesu that on roode hang.
Rew on me, kyng of mercy;
Let me not cry thus lang.
Mercy, for the velany
Thou tholyd on Jues with wrang.
Mi hat will I kest away,
My mantill sone onone;
Unto the poore help it may,
For richere knawe I none.
Mercy will I abyde and pray
To thee, Jesu, alone.
My synfull dede I rew ay;
To thee make I my mone.
Mercy, Jesu, Lorde swete,
For thi fyfe woundys so sore:
Thou suffred thrugh handys and feete,
Thi semely side a spere it share.
Mercy, Jesu, Lord, yit
For thi moder that thee bare.
Mercy for the teres thou grett
When thou rasid Lazare.
Mi gyrdill gay and purs of sylk
And cote, away thou shall.
Whils I am werere of swylke
The longere mercy may I call.
Jesu that soke the madyns mylk
Ware noght bot clothes of pall;
Thi close so can thai fro thee pyke, 9
On roode thay left thee small.
Mercy, Jesu, honoure of man;
Mercy, Jesu, mans socoure;
Mercy, Jesu, rew thi leman;
Mans saull thou boght full soure.
Mercy, Jesu, that may and can
Forgif syn and be socoure;
Mercy, Jesu, as thou us wan,
Forgif and gif thi man honoure.
None myght bryng thee in that wytt 10
For oght that thay myght say,
To trow that I myght flytt
Fro ded to lyfe to wyn away.
My saull and my cors have knytt
A knott that last shall ay;
Thus shall I rase well, thou wytt,
Ilk man on domesday.
Whoso hath not trowid right
To hell I shall theym lede,
Ther evermore is dark as nyght
And greatt paynes to drede.
Those that trow in my myght
And luf well almus dede,
Thai shall shyne as son bright
And heven have to thare mede.
That blys, Thomas, I thee hete
That is in heven cytee,
For I se thee sore grete;
Of thee I have pytee.
Thomas, for thi teres wete,
Thi syn forgiffen be;
Thus shall synfull thare synnes bete
That sore have grefyd me.
Thomas, for thou felys me
And my woundes bare,
Mi risyng is trowed in thee,
And so was it not are.
All that it trowes and not se,
And dos after my lare,
Ever blissid mot thay be
And heven be theym yare.
Explicit Thomas Indie. 11
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(t-note)
brother; (t-note)
bring [news]; (see note)
Trust; know
truly
chatter uselessly
ghost
believe in no other way
dead
true; reward
grimly bleed; (t-note)
nails on rood (the cross)
On account of which; incorrectly
bliss
quarreling; mad
saw
mouth
advise
Trust; known; (see note); (t-note)
fuss
lamentation; (t-note)
words; (see note)
believe
their cunning; trickery
sometimes
nothing troubles them
know
of this manner
(see note)
such
[the] hoard; where
try it intelligently
core; (t-note)
law
reverence (awe)
delivers me of sin
trust; faithfully
clearly
truly believe
speech we have no faith
fickle
oath
delivered; (t-note)
true
head as pledge; (see note)
Before; to
hear
true
(see note); (t-note)
must
dear darlings; (see note)
Where; place
cuts
grief; know no counsel
Since; Magdalene
see him tread
unfortunate
trembled; (t-note)
(see note)
righteous judgment; (see note)
lose
mad
more upset; (see note); (t-note)
if he stood in need
more faithful
(see note); (t-note)
to test me
from
never
placed
nourished
caught
afraid
By
sweet; (see note); (t-note)
bread; eat
given
then
nailed; cross
yet
manhood
(see note)
(see note)
joyous
glided; (see note)
journey
clothing
bliss; show
trod
mildly; go; (t-note)
deed
throne
gift
soon
(see note)
(see note)
may
shield
mother
wicked
among
dread
accustomed; go
feel; (see note)
form; made
Such; ghost
whether
argue against
five
feet
heart’s core
shrive; (see note)
deliverance
(see note)
dear
Man’s soul
battle
strike
deflect my purpose
love
Sprinkled
opens
death; (t-note)
through his power
sweeter than honey wine
Truly
heed; strong
own soul; cleanly
While; guardian
Slay
Sinning in various sins
(t-note)
since then rose bodily
in all ways; truthful
food
roasted
food
alteration; (see note)
at the appointed time
power
utter
Father’s
learn to know
blessing
greatest might
accustomed
again to prove; (see note)
friends
Eat
(see note)
reasonable
Remember; what
place
into your possession
form; bread
body buried; (t-note)
Scarcely would you believe
truth; prosper
believe
repentance
estrangement
confidence
Preach
Impose penance on them
(see note)
Receive; from
cease
(t-note)
authority
deliver from sin
delivered
bound
noble maiden
vinegar
servants; from
despair
Brothers; stable
Despair
disbelief; (see note)
safely
[the] cross
From death
captured
dead and buried; stone
bodily
alive from [the] grave gone
stood
let; each one
remember
(see note)
dwelling
seen
Save only; (see note)
Although I go proud as a peacock
heart
slay
apart; cuts
inflicts
nailed his body on the cross
run
Much more than misery
Such
sorrowful death
lived; joy
Since he passed into death
cheek and chin
discern
misfortune; drive
wounds five
to
heart; break
beset
injure
afraid
Stop, dear
at once
came apace
showed
living; has eaten; (see note)
Honey; hive
Obviously; [fol. 114v]; (see note)
Illusion; deceives
saw; bodily
spirit
sad hearts
adversity
sorrow slays me
know; truth
heard
swallowed; (see note)
gave
[As] living man; escape
such
I remember
enclosed (locked)
sun became dark; seeing
doubtful; (see note)
savior
alighted
virginity
prepared
clad
love he came; promised
finished
escaped; clothing
clothing
body
made showing
place
believe; chatter
heart; lead
death; mourning
bewildered; (see note)
spirit; quickly
souls; Satan
pain
goes
glad
Together you argue against me
show
perfect reason
together
visit
speech
living; spirit
could; know
at once
Color to [his] skin and hair
reason
(see note)
[fol. 115r]
steel
believe in such mastery
feel; (t-note)
any such thing
examine
handle
whether
living
found
piteous
bleeding
afraid of
Yet often easily comforted
streaked
body
person
wept; sore
own hair
head; ripped and tore
showed himself to her there
save; (see note)
such folly
a woman’s words [you] believe
reasons
misjudgment fail
deceive
Cease; argue; (see note)
believe; change your judgment
where
deceived anywhere
there; (t-note)
gave himself in bread
heal
Alive rising from death
truthful; words
dare I heartily
righteous
While he still lived; (see note)
But since; suffer; times
Death
believe; (see note)
destroy; (see note)
cease
conquered death
washed
neither; sword
Deliver him again to death
appeared
cease
believe; (see note)
bodily
creature
steel
Unless; feel
gave; Longeus; (see note)
have more than
(see note)
walked; journey
Their; were sorry
lodged
supper; (t-note)
bread; broke
As [if]
mention
makes me believe
seven [times]; (see note)
annoy
(t-note)
cross
company
fuss; explain
again living
of necessity believe
dare swear
alive
yet do now
waste
misjudgment; rave
Because
worse than mad
went
know; mean
ghost
believed
body
(see note)
buried
gravestone; found
grave cloth
from there; alive
Nothing but stolen is he
By; slain
had him guarded
loyal
as we have seen
treacherous
believe
deal
tidings; [fol. 116r]
I remember
been
earth
rise; arisen
heard; (t-note)
happen
vinegar
[who] remained in mourning
advice
place
causes; injured; (see note)
believe
always
they were but one [person]
bodily
more [evidence]
Truly
you believe we are false
hearts
foolish
Even if; more
error; cease
to; mind
Believe; three
finger; put; (see note)
place
Where; heart’s blood
peace
Leave strife
error cease
true; bear
no doubt; (see note)
Where
falsehood
despair; harm
take pity
bloody
Cast; (see note)
weapon go
Take pity
long
villainy
endured from; wrong
cast
cloak; quickly
richer know
deed; regret always
lament
sweet
fair; pierced
yet
tears you cried
raised
bright belt; silk purse
coat
wearer of such things
sucked
Wore; scarlet; (see note)
few [clothes]
help
pity your beloved
soul; dearly
Forgive sin and be a comfort
won
believe; flee
To escape from death to life
soul; body; tied
always
know
Every; judgment day; (t-note)
believed
them lead
dread
deeds of mercy
shine; sun
as their reward
bliss; promise
city
weeping sorely
pity
their; beat
grieved
feel; (see note)
believed by (within) you
before
command
prepared for them
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