Song of Solomon 8

1I would that you, O my kinsman, were he that nursed at the breasts of my mother; when I found you without, I would kiss you; yes, they should not despise me. 2I would take you, I would bring you into my mother's house, and into the chamber of her that conceived me; I would make you to drink of spiced wine, of the juice of my pomegranates. 3His left hand should be under my head, and his right hand should embrace me. 4I have charged you, you daughters of Jerusalem, by the virtues of the field, that you do not stir up, nor awaken my love, until he please. 5Who is this that comes up all white, leaning on her kinsman? I raised you up under an apple tree; there your mother brought you forth; there she that bore you brought you forth. 6Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm; for love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave, her shafts are shafts of fire, even the flames thereof. 7Much water will not be able to quench love, and rivers shall not drown it; if a man would give all his substance for love, men would utterly despise it. 8Our sister is little, and has no breasts; what shall we do for our sister, in the day wherein she shall be spoken for? 9If she is a wall, let us build upon her silver bulwarks; and if she is a door, let us carve for her cedar panels. 10I am a wall, and my breasts are as towers; I was in their eyes as one that found peace. 11Solomon had a vineyard in Baal Hamon; he leased his vineyard to keepers; everyone was to bring for its fruit a thousand pieces of silver. 12My vineyard, even mine, is before me; Solomon shall have a thousand, and they that keep its fruit two hundred. 13You that dwell in the gardens, the companions hearken to your voice: make me hear it. 14Make haste, my kinsman, and be like a doe or a fawn on the mountains of spices.
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