Front Page Titles (by Subject) Scene VII.—: Florence. A Room in the Widow's House. - All's Well that Ends Well
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Scene VII.—: Florence. A Room in the Widow’s House. - William Shakespeare, All’s Well that Ends Well 
The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (The Oxford Shakespeare), ed. with a glossary by W.J. Craig M.A. (Oxford University Press, 1916).
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Florence. A Room in the Widow’s House.
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 fall’n, 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 county 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 county 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 nought deny
That she’ll demand: a ring the county wears,
That down ward 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 past 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 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.
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.