Geneva(i) 1 Dead flies cause to stinke, and putrifie the ointment of the apoticarie: so doeth a litle follie him that is in estimation for wisedome, and for glorie. 2 The heart of a wise man is at his right hand: but the heart of a foole is at his left hand. 3 And also when the foole goeth by the way, his heart faileth, and he telleth vnto all that he is a foole. 4 If the spirite of him that ruleth, rise vp against thee, leaue not thy place: for gentlenes pacifieth great sinnes. 5 There is an euil that I haue seene vnder the sunne, as an errour that proceedeth from the face of him that ruleth. 6 Follie is set in great excellencie, and the riche set in the lowe place. 7 I haue seene seruants on horses, and princes walking as seruants on the ground. 8 He that diggeth a pit, shall fal into it, and he that breaketh the hedge, a serpent shall bite him. 9 He that remooueth stones, shall hurt himselfe thereby, and hee that cutteth wood, shall be in danger thereby. 10 If the yron be blunt, and one hath not whet the edge, he must then put to more strength: but the excellencie to direct a thing is wisedome. 11 If the serpent bite, when he is not charmed: no better is a babbler. 12 The words of ye mouth of a wise man haue grace: but the lippes of a foole deuoure himselfe. 13 The beginning of the wordes of his mouth is foolishnesse, and the latter ende of his mouth is wicked madnesse. 14 For the foole multiplieth woordes, saying, Man knoweth not what shall be: and who can tell him what shall be after him? 15 The labour of the foolish doeth wearie him: for he knoweth not to goe into the citie. 16 Woe to thee, O lande, when thy King is a childe, and thy princes eate in the morning. 17 Blessed art thou, O land, when thy King is the sonne of nobles, and thy princes eate in time, for strength and not for drunkennesse. 18 By slouthfulnes the roofe of the house goeth to decaie, and by the ydlenesse of the handes the house droppeth through. 19 They prepare bread for laughter, and wine comforteth the liuing, but siluer answereth to all. 20 Curse not the King, no not in thy thought, neither curse the rich in thy bed chamber: for the foule of the heauen shall carie the voice, and that which hath wings, shall declare the matter.