[1]The title of the eiyte and fourtithe salm. To victorie, a salm to the sones of Chore.[2]Alle ye folkis, here these thingis; alle ye that dwellen in the world, perseyue with eeris.[3]Alle the sones of erthe and the sones of men; togidere the riche man and the pore in to oon.[4]Mi mouth schal speke wisdom; and the thenkyng of myn herte schal speke prudence.[5]I schal bouwe doun myn eere in to a parable; Y schal opene my resoun set forth in a sautree.[6]Whi schal Y drede in the yuel dai? the wickidnesse of myn heele schal cumpasse me.[7]Whiche tristen in her owne vertu; and han glorie in the multitude of her richessis.[8]A brother ayenbieth not, schal a man ayenbie? and he schal not yyue to God his plesyng.[9]And he schal not yyue the prijs of raunsum of his soule; and he schal trauele with outen ende,[10]and he schal lyue yit in to the ende.[11]He schal not se perischyng, whanne he schal se wise men diynge; the vnwise man and fool schulen perische togidere. And thei schulen leeue her richessis to aliens;[12]and the sepulcris of hem ben the housis of hem with outen ende. The tabernaclis of hem ben in generacioun and generacioun; thei clepiden her names in her londis.[13]A man, whanne he was in honour, vndurstood not; he is comparisound to vnwise beestis, and he is maad lijk to tho.[14]This weie of hem is sclaundir to hem; and aftirward thei schulen plese togidere in her mouth.