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Duke.

There is a lady in [Milano] here

Whom I affect; but she is nice and coy,

And nought esteems my aged eloquence.

Now therefore would I have thee to my tutor

(For long agone I have forgot to court;

Besides, the fashion of the time is chang’d)

How and which way I may bestow myself

To be regarded in her sun-bright eye.

Val.

Win her with gifts, if she respect not words:

Dumb jewels often in their silent kind

More than quick words do move a woman’s mind.

Duke.

But she did scorn a present that I sent her.

Val.

A woman sometime scorns what best contents her.

Send her another; never give her o’er,

For scorn at first makes after-love the more.

If she do frown, ’tis not in hate of you,

But rather to beget more love in you.

If she do chide, ’tis not to have you gone,

For why, the fools are mad, if left alone.

Take no repulse, what ever she doth say;

For “get you gone,” she doth not mean “away!”

Flatter and praise, commend, extol their graces;

Though ne’er so black, say they have angels’ faces.