Song of Songs 8:10
Yf I be a wall, & my brestes like towres, then am I as one that hath founde fauoure in his sight.
Yf I be a wall, & my brestes like towres, then am I as one that hath founde fauoure in his sight.
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8When oure loue is tolde oure yonge sister, whose brestes are not yet growne, what shal we do vnto her?
9Yf 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.
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.
2Thy nauell is like a rounde goblett, which is neuer without drynke: Thy wombe is like an heape of wheate, sett aboute with lilies:
3Thy two brestes are like two twyns of yonge roes:
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:
10There wil I turne me vnto my loue, and he shal turne him vnto me.
6O how fayre and louely art thou (my derlynge) in pleasures?
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,
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?
11I wente downe in to the nutt garden, to se what grew by the brokes, to loke yf the vynyarde florished, and yf the pomgranates were shot forth.
12Then the charettes of the prynce of my people made me sodenly afrayed.
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.
10My beloued answered & sayde vnto me: O stode vp my loue, my doue, my beutyfull, & come:
7So the watchmen that wente aboute the cite, foude me, smote me, and wounded me: Yee they that kepte the walles, toke awaye my garmet fro me.
8I charge you therfore (o ye doughters of Ierusalem) yf ye fynde my beloued, that ye tell him, how that I am sick for loue.
5I am black (o ye doughters of Ierusale) like as the tentes of the Cedarenes, and as the hanginges of Salomon:
13for a bodell of Myrre (o my beloued) lyeth betwixte my brestes.
14A cluster of grapes of Cypers, or of the vynyardes of Engaddi, art thou vnto me, O my beloued.
15O how fayre art thou (my loue) how fayre art thou? thou hast doues eyes.
3The watchmen that go aboute ye cite, founde me. Sawe ye not him, whom my soule loueth?
4So 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.
12Thou art a well kepte garden (o my sister, my spouse) thou art a well kepte water sprynge, a sealed well.
9There wil I tary for the (my loue) wt myne hoost & with my charettes, which shalbe no fewer then Pharaos.
10Then shal thy chekes & thy neck be made fayre, & hanged wt spages & goodly iewels:
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.
10O 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.
10the pilers are of syluer, the coueringe of golde, ye seate of purple, ye grounde pleasauntly paued for the doughters of Ierusalem.
11Go forth (o ye doughters of Sion) and beholde kynge Salomon in the crowne, wherwith his mother crowned him in the daye of his mariage, and in the daye of the gladnesse of his hert.
3Like 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.
4He bryngeth me in to his wyne seller, and loueth me specially well.
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:
1Come in to my garden o my sister, my spouse: I haue gathered my Myrre wt my spyce. I wil eate my hony and my hony cobe, I wil drynke my wyne & my mylk Eate o (ye frendes) drynke and be mery, o ye beloued.
6For out of the wyndowe of my house I loked thorow the trelies,
3My loue is myne, and I am his, which fedeth amonge the lilies.
4Thou 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.
1I am the floure of the felde, and lylie of the valleys:
12spages vpo thy foreheade, eare rynges vpon thyne eares, & set a beutifull crowne vpon thine heade.
5What 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.
12His eyes are as the eyes of doues by the water brokes, washen with mylck, and remaynynge in a plenteous place:
16My loue is myne, and I am his, (which fedeth amoge the lylies)
11Salomon had a vynyarde at Baal Hamon, this vynyarde delyuered he vnto the kepers: yt euery one for the frute therof shulde geue him a thousande peces of syluer.