14 The door turneth round on its hinge, And the slothful on his bed.
15 The slothful hath hid his hand in a dish, He is weary of bringing it back to his mouth.
16 Wiser 'is' the slothful in his own eyes, Than seven 'men' returning a reason.
17 Laying hold on the ears of a dog, 'Is' a passer-by making himself wrath for strife not his own.
18 As 'one' pretending to be feeble, Who is casting sparks, arrows, and death,
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