human
Solly, my soul be in sore trouble.
gpt
Yes, my dog, I be setting in the seat o' the scornful. I be weary o' my groanings. I ha' conceived sorrow and brought forth ungodliness.
human
Why be this change come upon me, Solly? 'Tis written: Upon the ungodly He shall rain fire and brimstone, storm and tempest. But, to-day, seemingly, that be the lot o' the godly and the fatherless. To the ungodly be given Victoria Crosses.
gpt
I be cast down, and they that trouble me will rejoice at it.