Not much he kens, I ween, of Woman's breast,

Who thinks that wanton thing is won by sighs;

What careth she for hearts when once possessed?

Do proper homage to thine Idol's eyes;

But not too humbly, or she will despise

Thee and thy suit, though told in moving tropes:

Disguise ev'n tenderness, if thou art wise;

Brisk Confidence still best with woman copes:[er]

Pique her and soothe in turn—soon Passion crowns thy hopes.