Who is thy love above other lovers, O thou fairest among women? Or what can thy love do, more than other lovers, that thou chargest us so straightly?

What is she, this that peepeth out as the morning, fair as the moon, excellent as the sun, glorious as an army of men with their banners?

I went down into the nut garden, to see what grew by the brooks, to look if the vineyard flourished, and if the pomegranates were shot forth.

Turn again, turn again, O thou Shulamite; turn again, turn again, that we may look upon thee. What pleasure have ye more in the Shulamite, than when she danceth among the men of war?

I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, that ye wake not up my love, nor touch her, till she be content herself. What is she, this that cometh up from the wilderness, and leaneth upon her love?

Our sister is but young, and hath no breasts: what shall we do for our sister when she shall be spoken for?