Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Hel. Nor would I wish you.
Hel. First giue me trust, the Count he is my husband,
Hel. And what to your sworne counsaile I haue spoken,
Hel. Is so from word to word: and then you cannot
Hel. By the good ayde that I of you shall borrow,
Hel. Erre in bestowing it.
Wid. Wid.
Wid. I should beleeue you,
Wid. For you haue shew'd me that which well approues
Wid. Y'are great in fortune.
Hel. Hel.
Hel. Take this purse of Gold,
Hel. And let me buy your friendly helpe thus farre,
Hel. Which I will ouer‑pay, and pay againe
Hel. When I haue found it. The Count he woes your
Hel. daughter,
Hel. Layes downe his wanton siedge before her beautie,
Hel. Resolue to carrie her: let her in fine consent
Hel. As wee'l direct her how 'tis best to beare it:
Hel. Now his important blood will naught denie,