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    Act 3, Scene VII

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    Chapter 15
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    SCENE VII. Florence. The Widow's house.

    Enter HELENA and Widow
    If you misdoubt me that I am not she,
    I know not how I shall assure you further,
    But I shall lose the grounds I work upon.

    Though my estate be fallen, I was well born,
    Nothing acquainted with these businesses;
    And would not put my reputation now
    In any staining act.

    Nor would I wish you.
    First, give me trust, the count he is my husband,
    And what to your sworn counsel I have spoken
    Is so from word to word; and then you cannot,
    By the good aid that I of you shall borrow,
    Err in bestowing it.

    I should believe you:
    For you have show'd me that which well approves
    You're great in fortune.

    Take this purse of gold,
    And let me buy your friendly help thus far,
    Which I will over-pay and pay again
    When I have found it. The count he wooes your daughter,
    Lays down his wanton siege before her beauty,
    Resolved to carry her: let her in fine consent,
    As we'll direct her how 'tis best to bear it.
    Now his important blood will nought deny
    That she'll demand: a ring the county wears,
    That downward hath succeeded in his house
    From son to son, some four or five descents
    Since the first father wore it: this ring he holds
    In most rich choice; yet in his idle fire,
    To buy his will, it would not seem too dear,
    Howe'er repented after.

    Now I see
    The bottom of your purpose.

    You see it lawful, then: it is no more,
    But that your daughter, ere she seems as won,
    Desires this ring; appoints him an encounter;
    In fine, delivers me to fill the time,
    Herself most chastely absent: after this,
    To marry her, I'll add three thousand crowns
    To what is passed already.

    I have yielded:
    Instruct my daughter how she shall persever,
    That time and place with this deceit so lawful
    May prove coherent. Every night he comes
    With musics of all sorts and songs composed
    To her unworthiness: it nothing steads us
    To chide him from our eaves; for he persists
    As if his life lay on't.

    Why then to-night
    Let us assay our plot; which, if it speed,
    Is wicked meaning in a lawful deed
    And lawful meaning in a lawful act,
    Where both not sin, and yet a sinful fact:
    But let's about it.

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