oked on his wounds,
Pitiful it was to see them;
To the world they bring healing.

_Thomas._ Silence, woman, with thy tales,
And speak truth, as I pray thee;
Christ who was cruelly slain,
To be alive I will not believe;
Waste no more words,
For lies I do not love;
Our Lord is dead;
Alas! I tell the truth.

_Mary Magdalene._ I speak true, Thomas,
And I, though poor, will prove it.
Lately I saw him,--
The Lord (none equal to him),
And by me he sent,
I swear to ye, as ye may know,
Like as he promised;
He named to me none but Peter.

_Thomas._ Silence, and speak not, woman!
I pray thee, mockery with us
Now do not make;
Stout though Castle Maudlen be,
If thou mock, I will break thy head
About thee from above.

_Mary Magdalene._ I will not be silent from fear
I will prove it true what I say
Before _we_ separate.
Like as he is King of heaven,
He is with God the Father,
On his right side.

_Peter._ Ah! Jesus Christ, happy am I
To hear that he is risen
Out of the tomb;
For I know very well
That he is son to Mary,
And God likewise.

_Thomas._ Peter, peace, and leave thy mockery,
For idle it is to say
That he is risen.
Never can, for the world,
Any man be raised
After dying.

_James the Greater._ Thomas, very well it may be;
The Son of God will rise
When he will;
For Jesus, Son of Mary,
He made heaven, and this world,
And every thing that was not.

_Thomas._ O James, it is no use for thee;
A man who is dead certainly
Does not live again.
Foolish idleness, not to leave it,
But to go to assert
A thing of no benefit.

_John._ O Thomas, thou art a fool;
That is the belief of all:
Jesus Christ after dying,
To be put into the ground;
After that to rise again
At the end of three days, and to stand up.

_Thomas._ O John, be not absurd,
For my wonder,--it is great,
That thou shouldst speak folly.
Christ through sufferings was
Indeed put to death on the cross tree;
My curse on him that did it!

_Bartholomew._ Thomas, believe me, though I am gray;
Man could not have power
To put him to death.
For us he would die,
And go into the tomb, and rise,
To carry all Christians to heaven.

_Thomas._ O Bartte, thou art mad
And fond beyond all men
Who are fools.
God, without dying, might have
Caused all men to be saved,
Over all the world.

_Matthew._ That is true, he could
Destroy every thing again,
That it be no more.
But nevertheless f