Did not God make him as well as me? did he not give us life in our mothers' bodies?

Iron is to him as dry grass, and brass as soft wood.

Pain is sent on him as a punishment, while he is on his bed; there is no end to the trouble in his bones;

Will he make an agreement with you, so that you may take him as a servant for ever?

The earth of the valley covering his bones is sweet to him, and all men come after him, as there were unnumbered before him.

Will you make sport with him, as with a bird? or put him in chains for your young women?

His wrath is burning against me, and I am to him as one of his haters.