Coverdale(i)
31 Loke not thou vpon the wyne, how reed it is, and what a color it geueth in the glasse.
32 It goeth downe softly, but at the last it byteth like a serpet, and styngeth as an Adder.
33 So shal thine eyes loke vnto straunge women, & thine herte shal muse vpon frowarde thinges.
34 Yee thou shalt be as though thou slepte, in ye myddest of ye see, or vpo ye toppe of the mast.
35 They wounded me (shalt thou saie) but it hath not hurte me, they smote me, but I felt it not. Whe I am wel wakened, I wil go to ye drynke agayne.