If my heart has gone astray over a woman or I have lurked at my neighbor’s door,let my own wife grind grain for another man, and let other men sleep with her.For that would be a disgrace; it would be an iniquity deserving punishment.For it is a fire that consumes down to Abaddon; it would destroy my entire harvest.
All of them commit adultery; they are like an oven heated by a baker who stops stirring the fire from the kneading of the dough until it is leavened.On the day of our king, the princes are sick with the heat of wine— there is a conspiracy with traitors.For they— their hearts like an oven— draw him into their oven. Their anger smolders all night; in the morning it blazes like a flaming fire.All of them are as hot as an oven, and they consume their rulers. All their kings fall; not one of them calls on me.
