There is a kind of man who curses his father And does not bless his mother. There is a kind who is pure in his own eyes, Yet is not washed from his filthiness. There is a kind—oh how lofty are his eyes! And his eyelids are raised in arrogance. There is a kind of man whose teeth are like swords And his jaw teeth like knives, To devour the afflicted from the earth And the needy from among men. The leech has two daughters, “Give,” “Give.” There are three things that will not be satisfied, Four that will not say, “Enough”: Sheol, and the barren womb, Earth that is never satisfied with water, And fire that never says, “Enough.” The eye that mocks a father And scorns a mother, The ravens of the valley will pick it out, And the young eagles will eat it. There are three things which are too wonderful for me, Four which I do not understand: The way of an eagle in the sky, The way of a serpent on a rock, The way of a ship in the middle of the sea, And the way of a man with a maid. This is the way of an adulterous woman: She eats and wipes her mouth, And says, “I have done no wrong.” Under three things the earth quakes, And under four, it cannot bear up: Under a slave when he becomes king, And a fool when he is satisfied with food, Under an unloved woman when she gets a husband, And a maidservant when she supplants her mistress.
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