Song of Songs 5

Matthew(i) 1 Come into my garden O my sister, my spouse: I haue gathered my Myrre with my spyce. I wil eate my hony and my hony combe, I will drinke my wyne and my mylke. Eate, O ye frendes, drynke & be mery, O ye beloued. 2 As I was a slepe, & my hert wakynge, I hearde the voyce of my beloued, when he knocked. Open to me (sayde he) O my sister, my loue, my doue, my derlynge: for my heade is full of dewe, and the lockes of my heere are full of the night droppes. 3 I haue put of my cote, how can I do it on agayn? I haue washed my fete, how shall I fyle them agayn? 4 But when my loue put in his hand at the hole, my hert was moued toward hym: 5 so that I stode vp to open vnto my beloued. My handes dropped with Myrre, & the Myrre ranne doune my fingers vpon the locke. 6 Neuerthelesse when I had opened vnto my beloued, he was departed and gone his waye. Now lyke as afore tyme when he spake, my hert coude not longer refrayne: Euen so now I soughte hym, but I coulde not fynde hym: I cryed vpon him, neuerthelesse he gaue me no aunswere. 7 So the watchmen that wente aboute the cytye, founde me, smote me, & wounded me: Yea, they that kept the walles, toke awaye my garment fro me. 8 I charge you therfore, O ye daughters of Ierusalem, if ye fynde my beloued, that ye tell hym how that I am sycke for loue. 9 Who is thy loue aboue other louers, O thou fayrest among women? Or what can thy loue do, more then other louers, that thou chargest vs so straytely? 10 As for my loue, he is whyte and read coloured, a singular personne amonge mauy thousandes: 11 his head is the most fine golde, the lockes of hys heer are bushed, broune as the euenyng: 12 Hys eyes are as the eyes of doues by the water brokes, washen with mylke and remaynyng in a plenteous place: 13 Hys chekes are lyke a garden bed, where in the Apotecaries plante all maner of swete thinges: His lyppes droppe as the floures of the most principal Myrre, 14 hys handes are full of golde rynges & precious stones. His body is as the pure yuery, decte ouer with Saphires: 15 His legges are as the pylers of Marbel set vpon sokettes of golde: His face is as Libanus, and as the bewty of the Cedre trees: 16 Hys throte is swete, yea, he is altogether louely. Such one is my loue, O ye daughters of Ierusalem, such one is my loue.