There is one alone, and there is not a second, the reference being to a man without relatives or friends; yea, he hath neither child nor brother, no one bound to him by natural ties, the necessity being laid upon him, therefore, to gain friends by other means; yet is there no end of all his labor; neither is his eye satisfied with riches, he continues to crave new treasures, although there is no object in it for him; neither saith he, For whom do I labor, and bereave my soul of good? He never stops to think that his heaping up of treasures is pure folly. This is also vanity, an empty and useless performance, yea, it is a sore travail.

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