My sonne, geue hede vnto my wysdome, & bowe thine eare vnto my prudece:

yt thou mayest regarde good councell, and that thy lippes maye kepe nurtoure.

For the lippes of an harlot are a droppinge hony combe, and hir throte is softer then oyle.

But at ye last she is as bitter as wormwod, and as sharpe as a two edged swerde.

Hir fete go downe vnto death, and hir steppes pearse thorow vnto hell.

She regardeth not the path of life, so vnstedfast are hir wayes, that thou canst not knowe them.

Heare me therfore (o my sonne) and departe not fro the wordes of my mouth.

Kepe thy waye farre from her, and come not nye ye dores of hir house.

That thou geue not thine honor vnto another, and thy yeares to the cruell.

That other men be not fylled with thy goodes, & that thy labours come not in a straunge house.

Yee that thou mourne not at the last (when thou hast spent thy body and goodes)

and then saye: Alas, why hated I nurtoure? why dyd my hert despyse correccion?

Wherfore was not I obedient vnto the voyce of my teachers, & herkened not vnto them that infourmed me?

I am come almost in to all mysfortune, in the myddest of the multitude and congregacion.

Drinke of the water of thine owne well, and of the ryuers that runne out of thine owne spriges.

Let yi welles flowe out a brode, that there maye be ryuers of water in the stretes.

But let them be only thine owne, & not straungers with the.

Let thy well be blessed, and be glad with the wife of thy youth.

Louynge is the hynde, and frendly is the Roo: let her brestes alwaye satisfie the, and holde the euer content with hir loue.

My sonne, why wilt thou haue pleasure in an harlot, and embrace the bosome of another woma?

For euery mas wayes are open in the sight of the LORDE, and he podereth all their goinges.

The wickednesses of the vngodly shal catch himself, and with the snares of his owne synnes shal he be trapped.

Because he wolde not be refourmed, he shal dye: and for his greate foolishnesse he shal be destroyed.