How long wilt thou sleep, O sluggard? When wilt thou arise out of thy sleep?
(Yet) a little sleep, a little slumber, A little folding of the hands to sleep:
So shall thy poverty come as a robber, And thy want as an armed man.
He becometh poor that worketh with a slack hand; But the hand of the diligent maketh rich.
The sluggard will not plow by reason of the winter; Therefore he shall beg in harvest, and have nothing.
Love not sleep, let thou come to poverty; Open thine eyes, (and) thou shalt be satisfied with bread.