Coverdale(i)
1 Wo is me: I am become as one, that goeth a gleenynge in the haruest. There are no mo grapes to eate, yet wolde I fayne (with all my herte) haue of the best frute.
2 There is not a godly man vpo earth, there is not one rightuous amoge me. They laboure all to shed bloude, & euery ma hunteth his brother to death:
3 yet they saye they do well, when they do euell. As the prince wil, so sayeth the iudge: yt he maye do him a pleasure agayne. The greate ma speaketh what his herte desyreth, & ye hearers alowe him.
4 The best off the is but as a thistle, and the most rightuous of them is but as a brere in the hedge But when the daye of thy preachers commeth, yt thou shalt be vysited: the shal they be waisted a waye.
5 Let no man beleue his frende, ner put his confidece in a prince. Kepe the porte of thy mouth, from her yt lieth in thy bosome:
6 for ye sonne shal put his father to dishonoure, the doughter shal ryse agaynst her mother, ye doughter in lawe agaynst hir mother in lawe: and a mans foes shalbe euen they of his owne housholde.