I speak, and there is refreshment to me, I open my lips and answer.
Keep silent from me, and I speak, And pass over me doth what?
Who `is' he that doth strive with me? For now I keep silent and gasp.
Therefore my thoughts cause me to answer, And because of my sensations in me.
Bear with me, and I speak, And after my speaking -- ye may deride.
Lo, my breast `is' as wine not opened, Like new bottles it is broken up.
Let me not, I pray you, accept the face of any, Nor unto man give flattering titles,
Hath one tried a word with thee? -- Thou art weary! And to keep in words who is able?