Saint Stephen and King Herod

Seynt Stevene was a clerk
in kyng Herowdes halle,
And servyd him of bred and cloth,
as every kyng befalle.

Stevyn out of kechoun cam
wyth boris hed on honde,
He saw a sterre was fayr and brycht
over Bedlem stonde.

He kyst adoun the bores hed,
and went in to the halle;
'I forsak the, kyng Herowdes,
and thi werkes alle.

'I forsak the, kyng Herowdes,
and thi werkes alle,
Ther is a chyld in Bedlem born
is beter than we alle.'

'Quat eylyt the, Stevene?
quat is the befalle?
Lakkyt the eyther mete or drynk
in kyng Herodwes halle?'

'Lakit me neyther mete ne drynk
in king Herowdes halle;
There is a chyld in Bedlem born,
is beter than we alle.'

'Quat eylyt the, Stevyn? art thou wod?
or thou gynnyst to brede?
Lakkyt the eyther gold or fe,
or ony ryche wede?'

'Lakyt me neyther gold ne fe,
ne non ryche wede;
Ther is a chyld in Bedlem born,
schal helpyn us at our nede.'

'That is al so soth, Stevyn,
al so soth i-wys,
As this capoun crowe schal
that lyth here in myn dysh.'

That word was not so sone seyd,
that word in that halle,
The capoun crew Cristus natus est!
among the lordes alle.

'Rysyt up, myn turmentowres,
be to and al be on,
And ledit Stevyn out of this town
and stonit him with ston.'

Tokyn he Stevene,
and stonyd hym in the way;
And therfore is his evyn
on Crystes owyn day.