And I am finding more bitter than death, the woman whose heart `is' nets and snares, her hands `are' bands; the good before God escapeth from her, but the sinner is captured by her.
Lift thine eyes to the high places, and see, Where hast thou not been lain with? On the ways thou hast sat for them, As an Arab in a wilderness, And thou defilest the land, By thy fornications, and by thy wickedness.