HELENA. 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. WIDOW. Though my estate be fall’n, I was well born, Nothing acquainted with these businesses, And would not put my reputation now In any staining act. HELENA. 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. WIDOW. I should believe you, For you have show’d me that which well approves Y’are great in fortune. HELENA. 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 woos your daughter Lays down his wanton siege before her beauty, Resolv’d to carry her; let her in fine consent, As we’ll direct her how ’tis best to bear it. Now his important blood will naught 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. WIDOW. Now I see The bottom of your purpose. HELENA. 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, To marry her, I’ll add three thousand crowns To what is pass’d already. WIDOW. 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 compos’d To her unworthiness: it nothing steads us To chide him from our eaves; for he persists As if his life lay on ’t. HELENA. Why then tonight 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. [_Exeunt._] ACT IV SCENE I. Without the Florentine camp. Enter first Lord with five or six Soldiers in ambush. FIRST LORD. He can come no other way but by this hedge-corner. When you sally upon him, speak what terrible language you will; though you understand it not yourselves, no matter; for we must not seem to understand him, unless someone among us, whom we must produce for an interpreter. FIRST SOLDIER. Good captain, let me be th’ interpreter. FIRST LORD. Art not acquainted with him? Knows he not thy voice? FIRST SOLDIER. No sir, I warrant you. FIRST LORD. But what linsey-woolsey has thou to speak to us again? FIRST SOLDIER. E’en such as you speak to me.