14 The door turneth round on its hinge, And the slothful on his bed.
15 The slothful hath hid his hand in a dish, He is weary of bringing it back to his mouth.
16 Wiser [is] the slothful in his own eyes, Than seven [men] returning a reason.
17 Laying hold on the ears of a dog, [Is] a passer-by making himself wrath for strife not his own.
18 As [one] pretending to be feeble, Who is casting sparks, arrows, and death,
19 So hath a man deceived his neighbour, And hath said, `Am not I playing?`
20 Without wood is fire going out, And without a tale-bearer, contention ceaseth,
