Everything Is Futile

1These are the wordes of the Preacher, the sonne of Dauid, kynge of Ierusalem.

2All is but vanite (saieth ye preacher) all is but playne vanite.

3For what els hath a ma, of all the labor yt he taketh vnder the Sonne?

4One generacio passeth awaye, another commeth, but the earth abydeth still.

5The Sone aryseth, the Sonne goeth downe, & returneth to his place, yt he maye there ryse vp agayne.

6The wynde goeth towarde ye South, & fetcheth his copase aboute vnto the North, & so turneth in to himself agayne.

7All floudes runne in to the see, & yet the see is not fylled: for loke vnto what place the waters runne, thence they come agayne.

8All thinges are so harde, yt no ma can expresse them. The eye is not satisfied wt sight, the eare is not fylled wt hearinge.

9The thinge yt hath bene, cometh to passe agayne: & ye thinge yt hath bene done, is done agayne, there is no new thinge vnder the Sonne.

10Is there eny thinge, wherof it maye be sayde: lo, this is new? For it was loge agoo in the tymes yt haue bene before vs.

11The thinge yt is past, is out of remebraunce: Eue so the thiges that are for to come, shal no more be thought vpo amoge the that come after.

With Wisdom Comes Sorrow

12I myself ye Preacher, beynge kynge of Israel & Ierusale, 13applyed my mynde to seke out & search for the knowlege of all thiges yt are done vnder heaue. Soch trauayle & labor hath God geue vnto ye childre of me, to exercyse the selues theri. 14Thus I haue considered all the thinges that come to passe vnder the Sone, & lo, they are all but vanite & vexacion of mynde. 15The croked can not be mayde straight, & the fautes ca not be nobred.

16I comoned wt myne owne herte, sayege: lo, I am come to a greate estate, and haue gotte more wysdome, the all they yt haue bene before me in Ierusalem. Yee my hert had greate experiece of wysdome & knowlege, 17for there vnto I applyed my mynde: yt I might knowe what were wysdome & vnderstodinge, what were error & foolishnes. And I perceaued yt this also was but a vexacion of mynde: 18for where moch wysdome is, there is also greate trauayle & disquietnes: & ye more knowlege a man hath, the more is his care.