Whose hands mischievous plots, right hand corrupting bribes do fill.
Thy tongue mischievous calumnies deviseth subtilely, Like to a razor sharp to cut, working deceitfully.
He mischief, lying on his bed, most cunningly doth plot: He sets himself in ways not good, ill he abhorreth not.
For, lo, the wicked bend their bow, their shafts on string they fit, That those who upright are in heart they privily may hit.
Thou hast it seen; for their mischief and spite thou wilt repay: The poor commits himself to thee; thou art the orphan's stay.