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¹ Why boastest thou thy self (thou Tyraunt) that thou canst do myschefe?² Where as the goodnesse of God endureth yet daylie.³ Thy tonge ymagineth wickednesse, and with lyes it cutteth like a sharpe rasoure.⁴ Thou louest vngraciousnesse more the good, to talke of lyes more then rightuousnesse.⁵ Sela. Thou louest to speake all wordes yt maye do hurte, O thou false toge.

⁶ Therfore shal God cleane destroyethe, smyte the in peces, plucke the out of thy dwellinge, and rote the out of the londe of the lyuinge.⁷ Sela.The rightuous shal se this, & feare, and laugh him to scorne.⁸ Lo, this is the ma, yt toke not God for his stregth, but trusted vnto the multitude of his riches, & was mightie in his wickednesse.⁹ As forme, I am like a grene olyue tre in ye house of God: my trust is in the tender mercy of God for euer & euer. I wil allwaye geue thankes vnto the, for that thou hast done: and wil hope in thy name, for thy sayntes like it well.