ECB(i)
3 for the lips of a stranger drip as a honeycomb and her palate is smoother than ointment:
4 but her finality is bitter as wormwood sharp as a sword of mouths:
5 her feet descend to death; her paces hold on to sheol:
6 lest you weigh the path of life her routes drift so that you know them not.
7 Hear me now, O you sons, and turn not aside from the sayings of my mouth:
8 remove your way far from her and come not near the portal of her house;