There is one that is alone, and he hath not a second; yea, he hath neither son nor brother; yet is there no end of all his labor, neither are his eyes satisfied with riches. For whom then, 'saith he', do I labor, and deprive my soul of good? This also is vanity, yea, it is a sore travail.
oon is, and he hath not a secounde; not a sone, not a broþer; and neþeles he ceesith not for to trauele, neþer hise iyen ben fillid with richessis; neþer he biþenkith, and seith, To whom trauele Y, and disseyue my soule in goodis? In this also is vanyte, and þe worste turment.