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Woe is me! For I am as when they have gathered the summer fruits, as the grape gleanings of the vintage: There is no cluster to eat; my soul desired the first ripe fruit.

The good man is perished out of the earth, and there is none upright among men. They all lie in wait for blood; they hunt every man his brother with a net.

That they may do evil with both hands earnestly, the prince asketh, and the judge asketh for a reward; and the great man uttereth his wicked desire; so they wrap it up.

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