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I -- I am become wicked; why is this? In vain I labour.

Doth a wise man answer with vain knowledge? And fill with an east wind his belly?

He shaketh off as a vine his unripe fruit, And casteth off as an olive his blossom.

Lo, ye -- all of you -- have seen, And why is this -- ye are altogether vain?

Not equal it do gold and crystal, Nor is its exchange a vessel of fine gold.

Her young ones it hath hardened without her, In vain is her labour without fear.