Job Decries His Comforters

1Iob answered, and sayde:

2I haue oft tymes herde soch thinges. Miserable geuers of comforte are ye, all the sorte of you.

3Shall not thy vayne wordes come yet to an ende? Or, hast thou yet eny more to saye?

4I coude speake, as ye do also. But wolde God, that youre soule were in my soules steade: then shulde I heape vp wordes agaynst you, and shake my heade at you.

5I shulde comforte you with my mouth, and release youre payne with ye talkinge of my lyppes.

6But what shall I do? For all my wordes, my sorow wil not ceasse: and though I holde my toge, yet wil it not departe fro me.

7And now that I am full of payne, and all that I haue destroied

8(wherof my wryncles beare wytnesse) there stodeth vp a dyssembler to make me answere with lyes to my face.

9He is angrie at me, he hateth me, and gnassheth vpon me with his teth. Myne enemy skouleth vpon me with his eyes.

10They haue opened their mouthes wyde vpon me, and smytten me vpon the cheke despitefully, they haue eased the selues thorow myne aduersite.

11God hath geuen me ouer to the vngodly, and delyuered me in to the hondes of ye wicked.

12I was somtyme in wealth, but sodenly hath he brought me to naught. He hath taken me by the neck, he hath rente me, and set me, as it were a marck for him to shute at.

13He hath compased me rounde aboute with his dartes, he hath wounded my loynes, & not spared. My bowels hath he poured vpon the grounde.

14He hath geue me one wounde vpon another, and is falle vpon me like a giaunte.

15I haue sowed a sack cloth vpon my skynne, and lye with my strength in the dust.

16My face is swolle with wepinge, & myne eyes are waxen dymne.

17Howbeit there is no wickednesse in my hondes, and my prayer is clene.

18O earth, couer not my bloude, and let my crienge fynde no rowme.

19For lo, my witnesse is in heauen, and he that knoweth me, is aboue in the heyth.

20My frendes laugh me to scorne, but myne eye poureth out teares vnto God.

21Though a body might pleate wt God, as one man doth with another,

22yet the nombre of my yeares are come, & I must go the waye, from whence I shal not turne agayne.