My son, attend unto my wisdom, And bow thine ear to my understanding: That thou mayest regard discretion, And that thy lips may keep knowledge. For the lips of a strange woman drop as an honeycomb, And her mouth is smoother than oil: But her end is bitter as wormwood, Sharp as a twoedged sword. Her feet go down to death; Her steps take hold on hell. Lest thou shouldest ponder the path of life, Her ways are moveable, that thou canst not know them. Hear me now therefore, O ye children, And depart not from the words of my mouth. Remove thy way far from her, And come not nigh the door of her house
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