Chapter 13

By his father’s teaching a son grows wise; only the headstrong will not listen to a warning.

Fair words yield a crop to content a man’s heart; but not for the treacherous; they have no stomach but for wrong-doing.

Guard thy tongue, guard thy soul; thoughtless speech may bring ruin.

Idleness will and will not, both at once; it is hard work that gives a full belly.

Honesty shuns the false word; the sinner disappointment gives and gets.

The upright heart is protected by its own innocence; guilt trips the heel of the wrong-doer.

Some are rich that nothing have; some with a well-lined purse are yet poor.

A man’s wealth may be his own life’s ransom; yet will not the poor man be chidden for his poverty.

Welcome the shining beams of a life well lived; the rush-light of the wicked glimmers and is gone.

Ever there is wrangling among the proud; wisdom’s part is to be guided by other men’s counsel.

Riches soon won are soon spent; the patient hoard breeds best.

Hope deferred, how it crushes a man’s spirits! The granted wish, a tree of life-giving fruit!

Neglect thy errand, whatever it be,3 and thou art in default; carry out thy orders, and be at peace. Faithless hearts wander far in their transgressions, but the just are ever pitying, ever merciful.

The teaching of the wise is a fountain where men may drink life far removed from all mortal perils.

Good instruction breeds gracious thoughts; the headstrong are for the morass.

For the prudent, skill guides every action; ignorance betrays the fool.

Who runs a sinner’s errand, falls into mischief by the way; a faithful envoy mends all.

Comes want, comes shame from warnings unheeded; he achieves great things who will accept reproof.

Each man loves his own way best, and to a fool, there is no shame like sin’s avoiding.

Wise company brings wisdom; fool he ends that fool befriends.

Calamity is hard on the heels of wickedness, and honest men shall yet be rewarded.

Son and grandson shall be the good man’s heirs; the sinner lays up wealth for nobler men;

the rich harvest of those ancestral fields, lack he honest worth, shall be reaped for strangers.

Spare the rod, and thou art no friend to thy son; ever a kind father is quick to punish.

The just man eats his fill; the godless craves and never has enough.