I charge you, daughters of Jerusalem, If ye find my beloved, ... What will ye tell him? That I am sick of love.

His mouth is most sweet: Yea, he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, yea, this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem.

Thou art fair, my love, as Tirzah, Comely as Jerusalem, Terrible as troops with banners:

I am black, but comely, Oh ye daughters of Jerusalem, As the tents of Kedar, As the curtains of Solomon.

I charge you, daughters of Jerusalem, ... Why should ye stir up, why awake my love, till he please?

I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, By the roes, or by the hinds of the field, That ye stir not up, nor awake my love, Until he please.

I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, By the roes, or by the hinds of the field, That ye stir not up, nor awake my love, Until he please.

He made the pillars thereof of silver, The bottom thereof of gold, the seat of it of purple, The midst thereof being paved with love, From the daughters of Jerusalem.