Passing through the street near her corner; And he went the way to her house,

In the twilight, in the evening of the day, In the middle of the night and in the darkness.

Now she is in the streets, now in the broad places, And lieth in wait at every corner.

And, behold, there met him a woman With the attire of a harlot, and wily of heart.

So she caught him, and kissed him, And with an impudent face she said unto him:

With her much fair speech she causeth him to yield; With the flattering of her lips she forceth him along.

She is clamorous and wilful; Her feet abide not in her house:

My son, keep my words, And lay up my commandments with thee.

Sacrifices of peace-offerings are with me; This day have I paid my vows.

I have perfumed my bed With myrrh, aloes, and cinnamon.

Come, let us take our fill of love until the morning; Let us solace ourselves with loves.

He goeth after her straightway, As an ox goeth to the slaughter, Or as one in fetters to the correction of the fool;

Therefore came I forth to meet thee, Diligently to seek thy face, and I have found thee.

Keep my commandments and live; And my law as the apple of thine eye.

Now therefore, my'sons, hearken unto me, And attend to the words of my mouth.

Her house is the way to Sheol, Going down to the chambers of death.

That they may keep thee from the strange woman, From the foreigner that flattereth with her words.

For at the window of my house I looked forth through my lattice;

I have spread my couch with carpets of tapestry, With striped cloths of the yarn of Egypt.

Say unto wisdom, Thou art my sister; And call understanding thy kinswoman:

Till an arrow strike through his liver; As a bird hasteth to the snare, And knoweth not that it is for his life.

He hath taken a bag of money with him; He will come home at the full moon.

And I beheld among the simple ones, I discerned among the youths, A young man void of understanding,

For the man is not at home; He is gone a long journey:

Let not thy heart decline to her ways; Go not astray in her paths.

For she hath cast down many wounded: Yea, all her slain are a mighty host.

Bind them upon thy fingers; Write them upon the tablet of thy heart.