Great(i)
2 But youre mysdedes haue separated you from youre God, & your synnes hyde his face from you, that he heareth you not.
3 For youre handes are defyled wyth bloude, & youre fyngers wt vnrighteousnesse: Your lyppes speake lesynges, and youre tonge setteth oute wyckednes.
4 No man regardeth ryghteousnes, and no man iudgeth truly. Euery man hopeth in vayne thynges, and ymagineth disceate conceaueth weerynesse, and bryngeth forth euell.
5 They brede cockatrice egges, and weaue the spyders webb: Who so eateth of their egges, dyeth. But yf one treade vpon them, there commeth vp a serpent.
6 Theyr webbe maketh no clothe, and they maye not couer them wyth their labours. Their dedes are the dedes of wyckednes, and the worcke of robbery is in their handes.
7 Theyr fete runne to euell, and they make haste to shed innocent bloude. Theyr councels are wicked councels, harme and destruccyon are in their wayes.
8 But the waye of peace they knowe not. In theyr goinges is no equyte: their wayes are so croked, that whosoeuer goeth theryn, knoweth of no peace.