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; there is no early fruit which my soul desired. 2  The godly man hath perished out of the land, and there is none upright among men: they all lie in wait for blood, they hunt every man his brother with a net. 3  Both hands are for evil, to do it well. The prince asketh, and the judge is there for a reward; and the great man uttereth his soul’s greed: and together they combine it. 4  The best of them is as a briar; the most upright, worse than a thorn-fence. The day of thy watchmen, thy visitation is come; now shall be their perplexity. 5  Believe ye not in a companion, put not confidence in a familiar friend: keep the doors of thy mouth from her that lieth in thy bosom. 6  For the son dishonoureth the father, the daughter riseth up against her mother, the daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law: a man’s enemies are the men of his own household.