Moreouer the Lorde spake vnto Iob, and saide:

Shall he whom the almightie wyl chasten, contend with him? Should not he which disputeth with God, geue him an aunswere?

Then Iob aunswered the Lorde, saying:

Beholde, I am vyle, what shall I aunswere thee, therefore I wyll laye my hande vpon my mouth.

Once haue I spoken, but I wyll saye no more: yea twyse, but I wyl proceede no further.

Then aunswered the Lorde vnto Iob out of the whirle winde, and saide:

Girde vp thy loynes now lyke a man: I wyll demaunde of thee, and make thou aunswere.

Wylt thou disanul my iudgement? or wylt thou condempne me, that thou mayst be righteous?

Is thy power then lyke the power of God? maketh thy voyce a sounde as his doth?

Decke thy selfe now with excellencie and maiestie, and araye thy selfe with beautie and glory:

Cast abrode the indignation of thy wrath, and beholde euery one that is proude, and abase him:

Loke on euery one that is arrogant, and bring him lowe, & destroy the wicked in their place:

Hide them in the dust together, and couer their faces in secrete:

Then wyll I confesse vnto thee also, that thyne owne right hande shall saue thee.

Beholde the beaste Behemoth, who I made with thee, which eateth haye as an oxe:

Lo how his strength is in his loynes, and what power he hath in the nauil of his body.

When he wyll, he spreadeth out his tayle lyke a Cedar tree, all his sinowes are stiffe.

His bones are lyke pipes of brasse, yea his bones are lyke staues of iron.

He is the chiefe of the wayes of God, he that made him wyl make his sword to approche vnto him.

Surely the mountaines bring him foorth grasse, where all the beastes of the fielde take their pastime.

He resteth him in the shade, in the couerte of the reede and fennes.

The trees couer him with their shadowe, and the wyllowes of the brooke compasse him about.

Beholde, he drinketh vp whole ryuers and feareth not, he thinketh that he can drawe vp Iordane into his mouth.

He taketh it with his eyes, and yet the hunter putteth a bridle into his nose.