Lo, all this haue I sene with myne eye, herde with myne eare, & vnderstonde it.

Loke what ye knowe, that same do I knowe also, nether am I inferior vnto you.

Neuerthelesse I am purposed to talke with the Allmightie, and my desyre is to comon with God.

As for you, ye are workmasters of lyes: and vnprofitable Phisicians alltogether.

Wolde God ye kepte youre tonge, that ye might be taken for wyse men.

Therfore heare my wordes, and pondre the sentence of my lippes.

Will ye make answere for God with lyes, and mateyne him with disceate?

Wil ye accepte ye personne of God, and intreate for him?

Shal that helpe you, when he calleth you to rekenynge? Thynke ye to begyle him, as a man is begyled?

Punysh you shall he and reproue you, yf ye do secretly accepte eny personne.

Shall he not make you afrayed, when he sheweth himself? Shal not his terrible feare fall vpo you?

youre remembraunce shalbe like the dust, & youre pryde shalbe turned to claye.

Holde youre tonges now, and let me speake, for there is some thinge come in to my mynde.

Wherfore do I beare my flesh in my teth, and my soule in myne hondes?

Lo, there is nether coforte ner hope for me, yf he wil slaye me. But yf I shewe and reproue myne owne wayes in his sight,

he is euen the same, that maketh me whole: and why? there maye no Ypocrite come before him,

Heare my wordes, and pondre my sayenges with youre eares.

Beholde, though sentence were geuen vpon me, I am sure to be knowne for vngilty.

What is he, that will go to lawe with me? For yf I holde my tonge, I shal dye.

Neuerthelesse graunte me ij. thinges, and then will I not hyde my self from the.

Withdrawe thine honde fro me, & let not the fearfull drede of the make me afrayed.

And then sende for me to the lawe, yt I maye answere for my self: or els, let me speake, and geue thou the answere.

How greate are my my?dedes & synnes? Let me knowe my trasgressions & offences.

Wherfore hydest thou thy face, and holdest me for thine enemye?

Wilt thou be so cruell & extreme vnto a flyenge leaf, and folowe vpon drye stubble?

that thou layest so sharply to my charge, and wilt vtterly vndoo me, for ye synnes of my yougth?

Thou hast put my fote in the stockes: thou lokest narowly vnto all my pathes, & marckest the steppes of my fete:

where as I (notwithstondinge) must consume like as a foule carion, and as a cloth that is moth eaten.