Better to sit on a corner of the roof, Than `with' a woman of contentions and a house of company.
A virtuous woman `is' a crown to her husband, And as rottenness in his bones `is' one causing shame.
Better `is' an allowance of green herbs and love there, Than a fatted ox, and hatred with it.
Better `is' a dry morsel, and rest with it, Than a house full of the sacrifices of strife.
A calamity to his father `is' a foolish son, And the contentions of a wife `are' a continual dropping.
The soul of the wicked hath desired evil, Not gracious in his eyes is his neighbour.
Better to dwell in a wilderness land, Than `with' a woman of contentions and anger.
Froward `is' the way of a man who is vile, And the pure -- upright `is' his work.
Better to sit on a corner of a roof, Than `with' a woman of contentions, and a house of company.