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 one that travelleth, and thy want as an armed man.
He becometh poor that dealeth with a slack hand: but the hand of the diligent maketh rich.
The sluggard will not plow by reason of the cold; therefore shall he beg in harvest, and have nothing.
Love not sleep, lest thou come to poverty; open thine eyes, and thou shalt be satisfied with bread.