7 Among the bushes they bray; Under the nettles they are gathered together.
8 [They are] children of fools, yea, children of base men; They were scourged out of the land.
9 And now I am become their song, Yea, I am a byword unto them.
10 They abhor me, they stand aloof from me, And spare not to spit in my face.
11 For he hath loosed his cord, and afflicted me; And they have cast off the bridle before me.
12 Upon my right hand rise the rabble; They thrust aside my feet, And they cast up against me their ways of destruction.
13 They mar my path, They set forward my calamity, [Even] men that have no helper.
