Who is this, that cometh up out of the wilderness like pillars of smoke, as it were a smell of Myrrh, frankincense and all manner spices of the Apothecary?

His cheeks are like a garden bed, wherein the Apothecaries plant all manner of sweet things; His lips are like roses that drop sweet smelling Myrrh.

there shall the mandragoras give their smell beside our doors; there, O my love, have I kept unto thee all manner of fruits, both new and old.