My son, if thou be surety for thy friend,
If thou hast stricken thy hand with a stranger,
Thou art snared with the words of thy mouth,
Thou art taken with the words of thy mouth.
Do this now, my son, and deliver thyself,
When thou art come into the hand of thy friend;
Go, humble thyself, and make sure thy friend.
Give not sleep to thine eyes,
Nor slumber to thine eyelids.
Deliver thyself as a roe from the hand of the hunter,
And as a bird from the hand of the fowler.