40–41
Hermes
Hard, intolerable fate! yet endure for my sake, if only that the flatterers may burst themselves with envy. And now for heaven, via Etna.
Plutus
He is off, I suppose, from the beating of his wings. Now, ¢ you stay where you are, while I go and fetch Thesaurus to you; or rather, dig hard. Here, Gold! Thesaurus I say! answer Timon’s summons and let him unearth you. Now, Timon, with a will; a deep stroke or two. I will leave you together.
Timon
Come, spade, show your mettle; stick to it; invite Thesaurus to step up from his retreat.... O God of Wonders! O mystic priests! O lucky Hermes! whence this flood of gold? Sure, ’tis all a dream; methinks ’twill be ashes when I wake. And yet—coined gold, ruddy and heavy, a feast of delight! O gold, the fairest gift to mortal eyes! be it night, or be it day, Thou dost outshine all else like living fire. Come to me, my own, my beloved. I doubt the tale no longer; well might Zeus take the shape of gold; where is the maid that would not open her bosom to receive so fair a lover gliding through the roof?
