Great(i) 1 Iob answered, and sayde: 2 I haue oft tymes hearde soch thynges. Myserable geuers of conforte are ye, all the sorte of you. 3 Shall not vayne wordes come yet to an ende? Or, hast thou yet eny more to saye? 4 I coulde speake, as ye do also. But wold God, that youre soule were in my soules steade: then shuld I heape vp wordes agaynst you, and shake my heade at you. 5 I shuld comforte you with my mouthe, and release youre payne with the talkyng of my lippes. 6 For all my wordes, my sorow wyll ceasse: and though I holde my tonge, yet wyll it not departe from me. 7 But now that God hath sente me aduersytie, thou hast troubled all my congregacyon. 8 And that thou hast fylled me wyth wrynckles, my fleshe is recorde, and my leanesse ryseth vp agaynst me, and beareth wytnesse agaynst me. 9 He is angrye at me, he hateth me and gnassheth vpon me wyth hys teth. Myne enemye skouleth vpon me wyth hys eyes. 10 They haue opened their mouthes wyde vpon me & smytten me vpon the cheke despitefully, they gather them selues together agaynst me. 11 God hath put me in prease with the vngodly, & delyuered me into the handes of the wycked. 12 I was in wealth, but he hath brought me to naught. He hath taken me by the neck, he hath rent me, and sett me as a marck for him selfe. 13 His archers compasse me rounde aboute: he wounded my loynes, and doth not spare. My bowels hath he poured vpon the ground. 14 He hath geuen me one wound vpon another, and is fallen vpon me lyke a giaunte. 15 I haue sowed a sack cloth vpon my skynne, & lye with my heare in the dust. 16 My face is swollen with wepynge, and in myne eyes is the shadow of death. 17 Howbeit, there is no wyckednesse in my handes, but my prayer is cleane. 18 O earth couer not thou my bloude, and let my cryenge fynde no rowme. 19 For lo, my witnesse is in heauen: & he that knoweth me, is aboue in the heygth: 20 My frendes geue me many wordes, to scorne, and myne eye poureth out teares vnto God. 21 O that a body might pleate with God, as one man doth with another, 22 yet the nombre of my yeares is come, and the waye that I must go is at hande, from whence I shall not turne agayne.