Song of Songs 7:6-13 O how fayre & louely art thou my dearlynge, in pleasures?

Great⁽ⁱ⁾ ⁶ O how fayre & louely art thou my dearlynge, in pleasures? ⁷ Thy stature is lyke a Palme tree & thy brestes lyke the grapes. ⁸ I sayde I will clyme vp into the Palme tree, & take holde of his hye braunches. Thy brestes also shalbe as the vyne clustres the smell of thy nostrels lyke is the smell of apples, ⁹ and thy iawes lyke the beste wyne. Whiche goeth strayte vnto my beloued and brusteth forth by the lyppes of the Auncyent eldres. ¹⁰ There wyl I turne me vnto my loue & he shall turne hym vnto me. ¹¹ O come on my loue, we will go forth into the felde, & take oure lodgynge in the villages. ¹² In the mornynge wyll we go se the vyneyarde: we will se yf the vyne be spronge forth, yf the grapes be growne, and yf the pomgranates be shot out. There will I geue the my brestes: ¹³ the Mandragoras geue theyr sweate smell: and besyde oure dores are all maner of pleasaunt frutes: both newe, & olde: whych I haue kepte for the, o my beloued.