Iob answered, and sayde:

As for yt I knowe it is so of a treuth, yt a man compared vnto God, can not be iustified.

Yf he wil argue with him, he shall not be able to answere him vnto one amonge a thousande.

He is wyse of hert, and mightie in strength. Who euer prospered, that toke parte agaynst him?

He translateth the moutaynes, or euer they be awarre, & ouerthroweth them in his wrath.

He remoueth the earth out of hir place, that hir pilers shake withall.

He commaundeth the Sone, & it ryseth not: he closeth vp the starres, as it were vnder a signet.

He himself alone spredeth out ye heauens, and goeth vpon the wawes of the see.

He maketh the waynes of heauen, the Orions, the vij. starres and the secrete places of the south.

He doth greate thinges, soch as are vnsearcheable, yee and wonders without nombre.

Yf he came by me, I might not loke vpo him: yf he wente his waye, I shulde not perceaue it.

Yf he be haisty to take eny thinge awaye, who wil make him restore it agayne? Who wil saye vnto him: what doest thou?

He is God, whose wrath no man maye with stode: but the proudest of all must stoupe vnder him.

How shulde I then answere him? or, what wordes shulde I fynde out agaynst him?

Yee though I be rightuous, yet will I not geue him one worde agayne, but mekely submytte my self to my iudge.

All be it that I call vpon him, and he heare me, yet am I not sure, yt he hath herde my voyce:

he troubleth me so with the tempest, and woundeth me out of measure without a cause.

He will not let my sprete be in rest, but fylleth me wt bytternesse.

Yf men will speake of strength, he is the stogest of all: yf me will speake of rightousnes, who darre be my recorde?

yf I will iustifie my self, myne owne mouth shall codemne me: yf I will put forth my self for a perfecte man, he shal proue me a wicked doer:

For that I shulde be an innocent, my coscience knoweth it not, yee I my self am weery off my life.

This one thige wil I saye: He destroyeth both the rightuous & vngodly.

And though he slaye sodenly wt the scourge, yet laugheth he at the punyshment of the innocent.

As for the worlde, he geueth it ouer in to the power of the wicked, soch as the rulers be, wherof all londes are full. Is it not so? where is there eny, but he is soch one?

My dayes haue bene more swifte, then a runner: they are gone sodenly, and haue sene no good thinge.

They are passed awaye, as the shippes that be good vnder sale, and as the Aegle that haisteth to the pray.

When I am purposed to forget my complayninges to chaunge my countenaunce, and to coforte my self:

then am I afrayed of all my workes, for I knowe, thou fauourest not an euell doer.

Yf I be then a wicked one, why haue I laboured in vayne?

Though I wasshed my self with snowe water, and made myne hondes neuer so clene,

yet shuldest thou dyppe me in ye myre, & myne owne clothes shulde defyle me.

For he yt I must geue answere vnto, and with whom I go to lawe, is not a man as I am.

Nether is there eny dayes man to reproue both the partes, or to laye his hode betwixte vs.

Let him take his rod awaye fro me, yee let him make me nomore afrayed of him,

and then shal I answere him without eny feare. For as longe as I am in soch fearfulnesse, I can make no answere: And why?