[Enter AARON with a bag of gold.]

AARON: He that had wit would think that I had none, To bury so much gold under a tree, And never after to inherit it. Let him that thinks of me so abjectly Know that this gold must coin a stratagem, Which, cunningly effected, will beget A very excellent piece of villainy: And so repose, sweet gold, for their unrest That have their alms out of the empress' chest.

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