8 `They are' children of fools, yea, children of base men; They were scourged out of the land.
9 And now I am become their song, Yea, I am a byword unto them.
10 They abhor me, they stand aloof from me, And spare not to spit in my face.
11 For he hath loosed his cord, and afflicted me; And they have cast off the bridle before me.
12 Upon my right hand rise the rabble; They thrust aside my feet, And they cast up against me their ways of destruction.
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