Song of Songs 7:9
And thy rooffe of thy mouth lyke the best wine, which is meete for my best beloued, pleasaunt for his lippes, and for his teeth to chawe.
And thy rooffe of thy mouth lyke the best wine, which is meete for my best beloued, pleasaunt for his lippes, and for his teeth to chawe.
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2O that he would kisse me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy loue is more pleasaunt then wine,
3and that because of the good and pleasaunt sauour of thy most precious baulmes. Thy name is a sweet smelling oyntment when it is shed foorth, therfore do the maydens loue thee.
4Drawe thou me vnto thee we wyll runne after thee. The kyng hath brought me into his priuie chaumbers: We wylbe glad and reioyce in thee, we thinke more of thy loue then of wine: they that be righteous loue thee.
10I am my beloueds, and he shall turne hym vnto me.
11O come on my loue, we wyll go foorth into the fielde, and take our lodgyng in the villages.
12In the mornyng wyll we go see the vineyarde, we wyll see yf the vine be sprong foorth, yf the grapes be growen, and yf the pomegranates be shot out. There will I geue thee my brestes:
13the Mandragoras geue their sweete smell, and besyde our doores are all maner of pleasaunt fruites both newe and olde, which I haue kept for thee O my beloued.
9Thou hast with loue bewitched my heart O my sister my spouse, thou hast bewitched my heart with one of thyne eyes, and with one chayne of thy necke.
10O howe fayre are thy breastes, my sister, my spouse? Thy breastes are more pleasaunt then wine, and the smell of thyne oyntmentes passeth all spices.
11Thy lippes, O my spouse, drop as the hony combe, yea mylke and hony is vnder thy tongue, and the smell of thy garmentes is like the smell of Libanus.
12A garden well locked is my sister, my spouse: a garden well locked, and a sealed well.
2Thy nauell is lyke a rounde goblet, which is neuer without drynke. Thy wombe is like a heape of wheate that is set about with lilies.
3Thy two breastes are lyke two twinnes of young roes.
4Thy necke is as it were a towre of iuorie: thine eyes also are lyke the water pooles that are in Hesebon, beside the port of Bathrabbim, thy nose is lyke the towre of Libanus, which loketh towarde Damascus.
5That head that standeth vpon thee is lyke Carmel: and the heere of thy head is like purple, and like a kyng dwellyng among many water conduites.
6O Howe faire and louely art thou my dearlyng in pleasures?
7Thy stature is lyke a paulme tree, and thy breastes lyke the grapes.
8I sayde, I wyll climbe vp into the paulme tree, and take holde of his hye braunches. Thy breastes also shalbe as the wine clusters, the smell of thy nosethrilles like as the smell of apples.
16The wordes of his mouth are sweete: yea he is altogether louely: Such a one is my loue O ye daughters of Hierusalem, such a one is my loue.
1I am come into my garden, O my sister, my spouse, I haue gathered my Myrre with my spice: I haue eate hony with my hony combe, I haue drunke my wine with my milke: Eate O ye frendes, drinke and be merie O ye beloued.
2I am a sleepe, but my heart is waking: I heare the voyce of my beloued when he knocketh, saying, Open to me O my sister, my loue, my doue, my dearling: for my head is full of deawe, and the lockes of my heere are full of the nyght doppes.
13His cheekes are lyke a garden bed, wherin the Apothecaries plant all maner of sweete thynges. His lippes are lyke lilies that droppe sweete smellyng Myrre:
2Thy teeth are like a flocke of sheepe of the same bignesse whiche went vp from the washing place, where euery one beareth two twinnes, and not one vnfruitfull among them.
3Thy lippes are lyke a rose coloured ribande, thy wordes are louely, thy cheekes are like a peece of a pomegranate within thyne heeres.
10My beloued is lyke a roe or a young hart: beholde he standeth behinde our wall, he looketh in at the windowe, and peepeth thorowe the grace.
12When the king sitteth at the table, he shall smell my Nardus:
13a bundell of myrre is my loue vnto me, he wyll lye betwixt my brestes:
14a cluster of Camphire in the vineyardes of Engaddi is my loue vnto me.
2I wyll leade thee and bryng thee into my mothers house, that thou myghtest teache me, and that I myght geue thee drynke of the spiced wine, and of the sweete sappe of my pomegranates.
3His left hande shalbe vnder my head, and his ryght hande shall imbrace me.
4I charge you O ye daughters of Hierusalem that ye wake not vp my loue, nor touche her, tyll she be content her selfe.
5Thy two breastes are lyke two twinnes of young Roes, whiche feede among roses.
6O that I might go to the mountaine of myrre, and to the hil of frankencense, til the day breake, and til the shadowes be past away.
17My bed haue I made to smell of Myrre, Aloes, and Cinamon.
18Come let vs take our fill of loue vntyll the morning, and let vs solace our selues with the pleasures of loue.
15a well of gardens, a well of liuing waters which runne downe from Libanus.
16Up thou north winde, come thou south winde and blowe vpon my garden, that the smell therof may be caryed on euery side: yea that my beloued may come into his garden, and eate of the sweete fruites that growe therein.
3For the lippes of a straunge woman are a dropping hony combe, and her throte is more glistering then oyle:
3Like as the apple tree among the trees of the wood: so is my beloued among the sonnes.
13The figge tree bryngeth foorth her figges, and the vines beare blossomes and haue a good smell.
14O stande vp then and come my loue my beautifull, and come I say O my doue, out of the caues of the rockes, out of the holes of the wall, O let me see thy countenaunce and heare thy voyce: for sweete is thy voyce, and fayre is thy face.
14O get thee away my loue, and be as a roe or a young hart vpon the sweete smellyng mountaynes.
1Whyther is thy loue gone then O thou fairest among women? whyther is thy loue departed, and we wyll seke hym with thee?
2My loue is gone downe into his garden vnto the sweete smellyng beddes, that he may refreshe hym selfe in the garden, & gather lilies.
5He bringeth me into his wine seller, his banner spread ouer me, whiche is his loue.
6Set about me cuppes of wine, comfort me with apples, for I am sicke of loue.
7His left hande lyeth vnder my head, and his right hande shall imbrace me.
19Let her be as the louyng Hinde and pleasaunt Roe: let her breastes alway satisfie thee, and holde thee euer content with her loue.
7Thy cheekes are like a peece of a pomegranate within thy lockes of heere.
5I stoode vp to open vnto my beloued, and my handes dropped with Myrre, & the Myrre ranne downe my fingers vpon the locke.