Wycliffe(i)
16 And he tolde to hem a liknesse, and seide, The feeld of a riche man brouyte forth plenteuouse fruytis.
17 And he thouyte with ynne hym silf, and seide, What schal Y do, for Y haue not whidur Y schal gadere my fruytis?
18 And he seith, This thing Y schal do; Y schal throwe doun my bernes, and Y schal make gretter, and thidir Y schal gadir alle thingis that growen to me, and my goodis.
19 And Y schal seie to my soule, Soule, thou hast many goodis kept in to ful many yeeris; rest thou, ete, drynke, and make feeste.
20 And God seide to hym, Fool, in this nyyt thei schulen take thi lijf fro thee. And whos schulen tho thingis be, that thou hast arayed?
21 So is he that tresourith to hym silf, and is not riche in God.