Part 1 / Book 4 — 97. Judas

I Hit wes upon a Scere-thorsday[590] that ure loverd[591] aros; Ful milde were the wordès he spec to Judas. II ‘Judas, thou most to Jurselem, oure mete for to bugge[592]; Thritti platen[593] of selver thou bere up othi rugge[594]. III ‘Thou comest fer ithe brode stret, fer ithe brode strete, Summe of thine tunesmen[595] ther thou meist i-mete.’ IV Imette[596] wid is soster, the swikele[597] wimon: ‘Judas, thou were wrthè[598] me stende the wid ston[599], For the false prophete that tou bilevest upon.’ V ‘Be stille, leve[600] soster, thin herte the to-breke! Wiste min loverd Crist, ful wel he wolde be wreke[601].’