Job 16
1 Then answered Job, and said,
Forsothe Joob answeride, and seide, Y `herde ofte siche thingis;
2 I have heard many things such as these: troublesome comforters are ye all.
alle ye ben heuy coumfortouris.
3 Shall there be any end to words of wind? or what compelleth thee that thou shouldst answer?
Whether wordis ful of wynd schulen haue an ende? ether ony thing is diseseful to thee, if thou spekist?
4 I also could well speak as ye do: if your soul were but in my soul's stead, I could overwhelm you with words, and could shake my head at you.
Also Y myyte speke thingis lijk to you, and `Y wolde, that youre soule were for my soule; and Y wolde coumfort you by wordis, and Y wolde moue myn heed on you;
5 But I would strengthen you with my mouth, and the condolence of my lips should restrain [your grief].
Y wolde make you stronge bi my mouth, and Y wolde moue lippis as sparynge you.
6 Though I were to speak, my pain would not be restrained; and though I should forbear, what will go away from me?
But what schal Y do? If Y speke, my sorewe restith not; and if Y am stille, it goith not awei fro me.
7 But now he hath made me weary: thou hast made desolate all my company.
But now my sorewe hath oppressid me, and alle my lymes ben dryuun in to nouyt.
8 And thou hast filled me with wrinkles, they are my witnesses; and my leanness riseth up for me, giveth its testimony to my face.
My ryuelyngis seien witnessyng ayens me, and a fals spekere is reisid ayens my face, and ayenseith me.
9 In his wrath he teareth me to pieces, and assaileth me: he gnasheth over me with his teeth; my adversary sendeth threatening looks at me.
He gaderide togidere his woodnesse in me, and he manaasside me, and gnastide ayens me with his teeth; myn enemye bihelde me with ferdful iyen.
10 They now open wide against me their mouth; reproachfully they smite my cheek: altogether do they assemble against me.
Thei openyden her mouthis on me, and thei seiden schenschip, and smytiden my cheke; and thei ben fillid with my peynes.
11 God hath surrendered me to the unjust, and cast me down into the hands of the wicked.
God hath closid me togidere at the wickid, and hath youe me to the hondis of wickid men.
12 I was at ease, but he hath crushed me; he hath also grasped me by the neck, and shaken me to pieces, and set me up unto himself as a mark;
Y thilke riche man and famouse sum tyme, am al to brokun sudeynli; `he helde my nol; he hath broke me, and hath set me as in to a signe.
13 His archers encompass me round about; he cleaveth my reins sunder, and doth not pity; he poureth out upon the ground my gall;
He hath cumpasside me with hise speris, he woundide togidere my leendis; he sparide not, and schedde out myn entrails in to the erthe.
14 He breaketh me down with breach upon breach; he runneth against me like a mighty man.
He beet me with wounde on wounde; he as a giaunt felde in on me.
15 Sackcloth have I sewed upon my skin, and my horn I roll in the dust.
Y sewide togidere a sak on my skyn; and Y hilide my fleisch with aische.
16 My face gloweth from weeping, and on my eyelids resteth the shadow of death:
My face bolnyde of wepynge, and myn iyeliddis wexiden derke.
17 Not because any violence is in my hands, and while my prayer is pure.
Y suffride these thingis with out wickidnesse of myn hond, `that is, werk, whanne Y hadde cleene preieris to God.
18 Earth! do thou not cover up my blood, and let no place restrain my cry.
Erthe, hile thou not my blood, and my cry fynde not in thee a place of hidyng.
19 Even now, behold, my witness is in the heavens, and one that testifieth for me is on high.
`For, lo! my witnesse is in heuene; and the knowere of my consience is in hiye places.
20 Are my friends my defenders? unto God my eye poureth out [its tears].
A! my frendis, ful of wordis, myn iye droppith to God.
21 And oh that a man might plead with God, as one son of earth with the other!
And `Y wolde, that a man were demed so with God, as the sone of man is demed with his felowe.
22 For when the numbered years are passed, then must I travel a path whence I cannot return.
`For lo! schorte yeeris passen, and Y go a path, bi which Y schal not turne ayen.
