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