am i draped in finery enough to see your majesty? may i see the tables quake with laughter and your witty mastery? shall i take this cup and drink the wine you placed next silver finery? yet when I speak, LORD, your frown appears then you see my speechless fear the rigour coursing through my veins: what the phrase? what to say? how to justify this wretched form dwarfed amidst your mighty arms swords are drawn and rope comes bound your servants draw my quarters round wicker like a handle, toss and fro thrown into the darkness, ho!
so, my LORD? is it true of what they say of you? even if i gave every denarii each possession my life's amounting up to your kingdom come, your will be done, would you see not me, but my clothes?
here i shake at your door, the invitation exclaimed all the more your servants holler through the streets inside the smells of rice and meat and somewhere, sulfur...