For a graceful wreath are they to thy head, And chains to thy neck.

At the head of the multitudes she calleth, In the openings of the gates, In the city her sayings she saith:

'Till when, ye simple, do ye love simplicity? And have scorners their scorning desired? And do fools hate knowledge?

If thou dost seek her as silver, And as hid treasures searchest for her,

She giveth to thy head a wreath of grace, A crown of beauty she doth give thee freely.

Doth a man walk on the hot coals, And are his feet not scorched?

At the head of high places by the way, Between the paths she hath stood,

The fear of Jehovah is to hate evil; Pride, and arrogance, and an evil way, And a froward mouth, I have hated.

While He had not made the earth, and out-places, And the top of the dusts of the world.

Reprove not a scorner, lest he hate thee, Give reproof to the wise, and he loveth thee.

Blessings are for the head of the righteous, And the mouth of the wicked cover doth violence.

Whoso is withholding corn, the people execrate him, And a blessing is for the head of him who is selling.

The honour of God is to hide a thing, And the honour of kings to search out a matter.

The heavens for height, and the earth for depth, And the heart of kings -- are unsearchable.

For coals thou art putting on his head, And Jehovah giveth recompense to thee.

The slothful hath hid his hand in a dish, He is weary of bringing it back to his mouth.

Men of blood hate the perfect, And the upright seek his soul.