Song of Songs 8:9
Yf she be a wall, we shal buylde a syluer bollworke there vpon: Yf she be a tower, we shal festen her with bordes of Cedre tre.
Yf she be a wall, we shal buylde a syluer bollworke there vpon: Yf she be a tower, we shal festen her with bordes of Cedre tre.
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6O 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:
7so 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.
8When oure loue is tolde oure yonge sister, whose brestes are not yet growne, what shal we do vnto her?
10Yf I be a wall, & my brestes like towres, then am I as one that hath founde fauoure in his sight.
12Thou art a well kepte garden (o my sister, my spouse) thou art a well kepte water sprynge, a sealed well.
11a neck bande of golde wil we make ye wt syluer bottons.
17ye sylinges of oure house are of Cedre tre, & oure balkes of Cypresse.
10the pilers are of syluer, the coueringe of golde, ye seate of purple, ye grounde pleasauntly paued for the doughters of Ierusalem.
1Wysdome hath buylded herself an house, and hewen out seuen pilers:
8Make moch of her, and she shal promote the: Yee yf thou embracest her, she shal brynge the vnto honoure.
9She shal make the a gracious heade, and garnish the with ye crowne of glory.
4Thy neck is like the tower of Dauid buylded with bulworkes, wher vpon there hage a thousande sheldes, yee all the weapes of the giautes.
5Thy two brestes are like two twyns of yonge roes, which fede amoge the lilies.
6O 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.
1O that I might fynde the without & kysse ye, whom I loue as my brother which suckte my mothers brestes: & that thou woldest not be offended,
2yf I toke the and brought the in to my mothers house: that thou mightest teach me, and that I might geue the drynke of spyced wyne and of the swete sappe of my pomgranates.
3His left hande lyeth vnder my heade, & his right hande embraceth me.
9But one is my doue, my derlynge. She is the onely beloued of hir mother, & deare vnto her that bare her. Wha the daughters sawe her, they sayde she was blessed: Yee the quenes and concubines praysed her.
10What 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?
9Thou 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.
9My 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.
19Louynge is the hynde, and frendly is the Roo: let her brestes alwaye satisfie the, and holde the euer content with hir loue.
6But I will hedge hir waye with thornes, and stoppe it, that she shal not fynde hir fotestoppes:
4Thy neck is as it were a tower of yuery: Thyne eyes are like ye water poles in Hesebon, besyde the porte of Bathrabbim: Thy nose is like the tower of Libanus, which loketh towarde Damascus:
8Yf thou knowe not yi self (o thou fayrest amoge women) tha go yi waye forth after ye fotesteppes of the shepe, as though thou woldest fede yi goates besyde ye shepherdes tentes.
14sytteth in the dores of hir house vpo a stole aboue in the cite,
15Wy?dome is more worth the precious stones, & all ye thinges yt thou canst desyre, are not to be compared vnto her.
8Kepe thy waye farre from her, and come not nye ye dores of hir house.
8goinge ouer the stretes, by the corner in the waye towarde the harlottes house
31Geue her of the frute of hir handes, and let hir owne workes prayse her in the gates.
17Hir wayes are pleasaunt wayes, and all hir pathes are peaceable.
18She is a tre of life to them that laye holde vpon her, and blessed are they that kepe her fast.
7Thy stature is like a date tre, and thy brestes like the grapes. I sayde:
8I wil clymme vp into the date tre, and take holde of his braunches. Thy brestes also shalbe as the vyne grapes, the smell of thy nostrels like the smell of apples,
6Forsake her not, and she shal preserue the: loue her, and she shal kepe the.
15His legges are as the pilers of Marbell, sett vpon sokettes of golde: His face is as Libanus, and as the bewty of the Cedre trees:
1A wyse woma vpholdeth hir house, but a foolish wife plucketh it downe.
12That or sonnes maye growe vp as the yoge plantes, and that oure doughters maye be as the polished corners of the temple.
2Stondeth she not in the hye places in the stretes & wayes?
3doth she not crie before the whole cite, & in the gates where men go out & in?
12In 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:
4Saye vnto wysdome: thou art my sister, and call vnderstondinge thy kynswoman:
4yf thou sekest after her as after money, and dyggest for her as for treasure:
3She hath sent forth hir maydens to crie vpo the hyest place of the cite:
4Who so is ignoraut, let him come hither. And to the vn wise she sayde:
6For out of the wyndowe of my house I loked thorow the trelies,
14He thinketh in himself: I wil buylde me a wyde house, ad gorgeous perlers: He causeth wyndowes to be hewen there in, and the sylinges and geastes maketh he off Cedre, and paynteth them with Zenober.
9Yf my hert hath lusted after my neghbours wife, or yf I haue layed wayte at his dore:
12now is she without, now i ye stretes, & lurketh i euery corner)
22She maketh hir self fayre ornametes, hir clothige is whyte sylke & purple.