A Door Upon Hinges (Part I)

Allow no sleep to your eyes and no slumber to your eyelids, for a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest and poverty will come on you like a vagrant, and scarcity like a beggar because slack hands make a man poor, and he who is slack in his work is brother to one who destroys and is a great waster. By reason of the cold, the sluggard will not plow in season, and observing the wind, he shall not sow; therefore, at harvestime he looks and finds nothing. His souls craves and has nothing. All day he covets greedily, and his craving will be the death of him because his hands refuse to work. He may say, "There is a lion outside in the road, a fierce lion roaming the streets!" Or "I will be murdered in the streets." Yet, while he is in the house, he will not even roast the game he took in hunting but will bury his hand in his bosom or in a prepared dish and will not so much as bring it back to his mouth because it grieves him. The idle soul and shiftless man goes hungry and his laziness will cast him into a deep sleep, and as a door turns on its hinges, so a sluggard turns on his bed. Eventually, he will be under tribute and slave labor. His way will be blocked by snares and thorns, and his labor wearies him because he does not know his way to town. Yet, the sluggard is wiser in his own eyes and conceit than seven men who answer discreetly; therefore, he is as vinegar to the teeth and smoke to the eyes of those who send him. His words are mere talk that lead only to penury because he follows vain persons and chases fantasies, for he is void of understanding but has his fill of poverty.