11 Why died I not from the womb? Why did I not give up the ghost when my mother bare me?
12 Why did the knees receive me? Or why the breast, that I should suck?
13 For now should I have lain down and been quiet; I should have slept; then had I been at rest,
14 With kings and counsellors of the earth, Who built up waste places for themselves;
15 Or with princes that had gold, Who filled their houses with silver:
16 Or as a hidden untimely birth I had not been, As infants that never saw light.
17 There the wicked cease from troubling; And there the weary are at rest.
