Song of Songs 8:6
O set me as a seale vpo thine hert, and as a seale vpon thine arme: for loue is mightie as the death, & gelousy as the hell. Hir coales are of fyre, and a very flamme of the LORDE:
O set me as a seale vpo thine hert, and as a seale vpon thine arme: for loue is mightie as the death, & gelousy as the hell. Hir coales are of fyre, and a very flamme of the LORDE:
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7 so yt many waters are not able to quench loue, nether maye ye streames drowne it. Yee yf a man wolde geue all the good of his house for loue, he shulde counte it nothinge.
8 When oure loue is tolde oure yonge sister, whose brestes are not yet growne, what shal we do vnto her?
10 There wil I turne me vnto my loue, and he shal turne him vnto me.
6 O that I might go to the mountayne of Myrre, and to the hyll of frankynsense: till the daye breake, and till the shadowes be past awaye.
7 Thou art all fayre (o my loue) & no spott is there in the.
8 Come to me from Libanus (o my spouse) come to me from Libanus: come soone the next waye from the toppe of Amana, from the toppe of Sanir and Hermon, from the Lyons dennes and from the mountaynes of ye leopardes.
9 Thou hast wouded my hert (o my sister, my spouse) thou hast wounded my hert, with one of thine eyes, and with one cheyne of thy neck.
10 O how fayre and louely are thy brestes, my sister, my spouse? Thy brestes are more pleasaunt then wyne, and the smell of thy oyntmentes passeth all spices.
3 My loue is myne, and I am his, which fedeth amonge the lilies.
4 Thou art pleasaunt (o my loue) euen as louelynesse itself, thou art fayre as Ierusalem, glorious as an armye of men with their baners
5 (Turne awaye thine eyes fro me, for they make me to proude) Thy hayrie lockes are like a flocke of goates vpon ye mount of Galaad.
8 I charge you therfore (o ye doughters of Ierusalem) yf ye fynde my beloued, that ye tell him, how that I am sick for loue.
9 Who is thy loue aboue other louers, O thou fayrest amonge wemen? Or, what can thy loue do, more then other louers, that thou chargest vs so straitly?
6 O how fayre and louely art thou (my derlynge) in pleasures?
7 Thy stature is like a date tre, and thy brestes like the grapes. I sayde:
13 for a bodell of Myrre (o my beloued) lyeth betwixte my brestes.
14 A cluster of grapes of Cypers, or of the vynyardes of Engaddi, art thou vnto me, O my beloued.
3 His left hande lyeth vnder my heade, & his right hande embraceth me.
4 I charge you (o ye daughters of Ierusale) that ye wake not vp my loue ner touch her, tyll she be content herself.
5 What is she this, that cometh vp from the wildernes, and leaneth vpon hir loue? I am the same that waked the vp amonge the aple trees, where thy mother beare ye, where yi mother brought the in to the worlde.
12 Thou art a well kepte garden (o my sister, my spouse) thou art a well kepte water sprynge, a sealed well.
2 as the rose amonge the thornes, so is my loue amonge the daughters.
3 Like as the aple tre amonge the trees of the wodd, so is my beloued amonge the sonnes. My delite is to sitt vnder his shadowe, for his frute is swete vnto my throte.
4 He bryngeth me in to his wyne seller, and loueth me specially well.
5 Refresh me wt grapes, coforte me with apples, for I am sick of loue.
6 His left hade lyeth vnder my heade, & his right hande enbraceth me.
7 I charge you (o ye doughters of Ierusalem (by the Roes & hyndes of the felde, yt ye wake not vp my loue ner touch her, till she be content herself.
9 There wil I tary for the (my loue) wt myne hoost & with my charettes, which shalbe no fewer then Pharaos.
10 Then shal thy chekes & thy neck be made fayre, & hanged wt spages & goodly iewels:
2 O that thy mouth wolde geue me a kysse, for yi brestes are more pleasaunt then wyne,
19 Louynge is the hynde, and frendly is the Roo: let her brestes alwaye satisfie the, and holde the euer content with hir loue.
14 O get the awaye (my loue) as a roo or a yonge hert vnto the swete smellinge moutaynes.
27 Maye a man take fyre in his bosome, and his clothes not be brent?
4 yee that same moueth me also to renne after the. The kynge hath brought me into his preuy chambre. We wil be glad & reioyce in the, we thynke more of thy brestes then of wyne: well is them that loue the.
7 Tell me (o thou whom my soule loueth) where thou fedest, where thou restest at the noone daye: lest I go wronge, and come vnto the flockes of thy companyons,
4 So whan I was a litle past them, I foude him whom my soule loueth. I haue gotten holde vpon him, and wyl not let him go, vntill I brynge him into my mothers house, and in to hir chambre that bare me.
5 I charge you (o ye doughters of Ierusale) by the Roes and hyndes of the felde, that ye wake not vp my loue ner touch her, till she be content herself.
6 Who is this, that commeth out of ye wyldernesse like pilers of smoke, as it were a smell of Myrre, frankencense and all maner spyces of the Apotecary?
15 Thou art a well of gardens, a well of lyuynge waters, which renne downe from Libanus.
9 My beloued is like a Roo or a yonge hart. Beholde, he stondeth behynde or wall, he loketh in at the wyndowe, & pepeth thorow the grate.
10 My beloued answered & sayde vnto me: O stode vp my loue, my doue, my beutyfull, & come:
10 What is she this, that pepeth out as the mornynge? fayre as the Moone, excellent as the Sonne, glorious as an armye of men with their banners?
12 In the mornynge wil we ryse by tymes, and go se the vynyarde: yf it be spronge forth, yf the grapes be growne, & yf the pomgranates be shott out. There wil I geue the my brestes:
3 Bynde them vpon thy fyngers, & wryte the in the table of thine hert.
2 Thus saieth the LORDE of hoostes: I was in a greate gelousy ouer Sion, yee I haue bene very gelous ouer her in a greate displeasure.
25 yt thou lust not after her beuty in thine herte, & lest thou be take wt hir fayre lokes.
1 Whither is thy loue gone the (o thou fayrest amonge weme) whither is thy loue departed, that we maye seke him with the?
21 Put the vp together in thine herte, and bynde the aboute thy necke.
16 His throte is swete, yee he is alltogether louely. Soch one is my loue (o ye doughters of Ierusalem) soch one is my loue.
26 And I founde, that a woman is bytterer then death: for she is a very angle, hir hert is a nett, and hir handes are cheynes. Who so pleaseth God shal escape from her, but the synner will be taken wt her.