Great(i)
20 I haue euer broken thy yock of olde, & burste thy bondes: yet sayest thou, I wyll nomore offend, but (lyke an harlot) thou runnest about vpon all hye hilles, & amonge all grene trees,
21 where as I planted the as a noble vyne, & a good rote whose seed is all faithfull. How art thou turned then in to a bytter, vnfrutefull, & straunge grape?
22 Yee, & that so sore: that though thou washe the wt Nitrus & make thy selfe to sauoure with that swete smellinge herbe of Borith: yet in my syght thou art stayned wyth thy wyckednesse, sayeth the Lorde thy God.
23 Saye not nowe: I am not vnclene, and I haue not folowed Baal. Loke vpon thyne awne wayes in the woddes, valleys and dennes: so shalt thou knowe, what thou hast done. Thou art lyke a swyft Dromedary, that goeth easely his waye:
24 and thy wantonnes is lyke a wylde Asse, that vseth the wyldernesse, and that snoffeth and bloweth at his wyll. Who can tame the? All they that seke the shall not fayle, but fynde the in thyne awne vnclennes