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¹ Yf youre myndes be vpon rightuousnesse in dede, then iudge the thinge that is right, o ye sonnes of men.² But ye ymagin myschefe in youre hertes, and youre hondes deale with wickednesse.³ The vngodly are frowarde, eue from their mothers wombe: as soone as they be borne, they go astraie & speake lyes.⁴ They are as furious as the serpent, euen like the deaf Adder that stoppeth hir eares.⁵ That she shulde not heare the voyce of the charmer, charme he neuer so wysely.

⁶ Breake their teth (o God) in their mouthes, smyte the chaft bones of the lyons whelpes in sonder, o LORDE. ⁷ That they maye fall awaye, like water yt runneth a pace: and that when they shote their arowes, they maye be broke.⁸ Let the cosume awaye like a snale, & like the vntymely frute of a woman, and let them not se the Sonne.⁹ Or euer youre thornes be sharpe, the wrath shal take them awaye quycke, like a stormy wynde.¹⁰ The rightuous shal reioyse when he seyth the vengeaunce, and shal wash his fete in the bloude of the vngodly.¹¹ So that men shal saye: verely, there is a rewarde for ye rightuous: doutles, there is a God that iudgeth the earth.