18 For I have been full of words, Distressed me hath the spirit of my breast,
19 Lo, my breast 'is' as wine not opened, Like new bottles it is broken up.
20 I speak, and there is refreshment to me, I open my lips and answer.
21 Let me not, I pray you, accept the face of any, Nor unto man give flattering titles,
22 For I have not known to give flattering titles, In a little doth my Maker take me away.
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