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¹ There is yet a plage vnder ye Sonne, & it is a generall thinge amonge me:² when God geueth a man riches, goodes & honoure, so that he wanteth nothinge of all that his herte can desyre: and yet God geueth him not leue to enioye the same, but another man spedeth them. This is a vayne thinge & a miserable plage.³ Yf a man begett an hundreth children, and lyue many yeares, so that his dayes are many in nombre, and yet can not enioye his good, nether be buried: as for him I saye, that an vntymely byrth is better then he.⁴ For he cometh to naught, & goeth his waye in to darcknes, and his name is forgotten.⁵ Morouer, he seyth not the Sonne, and knoweth of no rest nether here ner there:⁶ Yee though he lyued two thousande yeares, yet hath he no good life. Come not all to one place?

⁷ All the laboure that a man taketh, is for himself, and yet his desyre is neuer fylled after his mynde.⁸ For what hath the wyse more then the foole? What helpeth it the poore, that he knoweth to walke before the lyuynge?⁹ The sight of the eyes is better, then that the soule shulde so departe awaye. Howbeit this is also a vayne thinge and a disquietnesse of mynde.¹⁰ What is more excellent then man? yet can he not in the lawe get the victory of him that is mightier the he:

¹¹ A vayne thinge is it to cast out many wordes, but what hath a man els?¹² For who knoweth what is good for man lyuynge, in ye dayes of his vayne life, which is but a shadowe? Or, who wil tell a man, what shal happen after him vnder the Sonne?