1
Woe is me! for I am as when they have gathered the summer fruits, as the grape gleanings of the vintage: there is no cluster to eat; my soul desires the first-ripe fig.
2
The godly man is perished out of the earth, and there is none upright among men: they all lie in wait for blood; they hunt every man his brother with a net.
3
Their hands are on that which is evil to do it diligently; the prince asks, and the judge [is ready] for a reward; and the great man, he utters the evil desire of his soul: thus they weave it together.
4
The best of them is as a brier; the most upright is [worse] than a thorn hedge: the day of your watchmen, even your visitation, is come; now shall be their perplexity.
5
Don`t you trust in a neighbor; don`t you put confidence in a friend; keep the doors of your mouth from her who lies in your bosom.