My son! to my wisdom give attention, To mine understanding
incline thine ear,
To observe thoughtfulness, And knowledge do thy lips keep.
For the lips of a strange woman drop honey, And smoother
than oil is her mouth,
And her latter end is bitter as wormwood, Sharp as a
sword with mouths.
Her feet are going down to death, Sheol do her steps take
The path of life -- lest thou ponder, Moved have her paths
-- thou knowest not.
And now, ye sons, hearken to me, And turn not from sayings
of my mouth.
Keep far from off her thy way, And come not near unto the
opening of her house,
Lest thou give to others thy honour, And thy years to the
Lest strangers be filled with thy power, And thy
labours in the house of a stranger,
And thou hast howled in thy latter end, In the consumption
of thy flesh and thy food,
And hast said, 'How have I hated instruction, And reproof
hath my heart despised,
And I have not hearkened to the voice of my directors, And
to my teachers have not inclined mine ear.
As a little thing I have been all evil, In the midst of an
assembly and a company.
Drink waters out of thine own cistern, Even flowing ones out
of thine own well.
Let thy fountains be scattered abroad, In broad places
rivulets of waters.
Let them be to thee for thyself, And not to strangers with
Let thy fountain be blessed, And rejoice because of the wife
of thy youth,
A hind of loves, and a roe of grace! Let her loves satisfy
thee at all times, In her love magnify thyself continually.
And why dost thou magnify thyself, My son, with a stranger?
And embrace the bosom of a strange woman?
For over-against the eyes of Jehovah are the ways of each,
And all his paths He is pondering.
His own iniquities do capture the wicked, And with the ropes
of his sin he is holden.
He dieth without instruction, And in the abundance of his
folly magnifieth himself!