12 These are spottes which of youre kindnes feast to gedder with out feare fedynge them selves. Cloudes they are with outen water caried about of wyndes and trees with out frute at gadringe tyme twyse deed and plucked vp by the rotes.
12
These people are blemishes at your love feasts, eating with you without the slightest qualm—shepherds who feed only themselves. They are clouds without rain, blown along by the wind; autumn trees, without fruit and uprooted—twice dead.