Part 8 (1/2)
_Asph._ There is no woman here.
_Bac._ Calm yourself, Midas; none believe the tale, Some impious man or gamesome faun dares feign In vile contempt of your most royal ears.
Off with your crown, & shew the world the lie!
_Mid._ (_holding his crown tight_) Never! What[!] shall a vile calumnious slave Dictate the actions of a crowned king?
Zopyrion, this lie springs from you--you peris.h.!.+
_Zopy._ I, say that Midas has got a.s.ses' ears?
May great Apollo strike me with his shaft If to a single soul I ever told So false, so foul a calumny!
_Bac._ Midas! [50]
_The Reeds._ Midas, the king, has the ears of an a.s.s.
_Bac._ Silence! or by my G.o.dhead I strike dead Who shall again insult the n.o.ble king.
Midas, you are my friend, for you have saved And hospitably welcomed my old faun; Choose your reward, for here I swear your wish, Whatever it may be, shall be fulfilled.
_Zopyr. (aside)_ Sure he will wish his a.s.ses' ears in Styx.
_Midas._ What[!] may I choose from out the deep, rich mine Of human fancy, & the wildest thoughts That pa.s.sed till now unheeded through my brain, A wish, a hope, to be fulfilled by you?
Nature shall bend her laws at my command, And I possess as my reward one thing That I have longed for with unceasing care.
_Bac._ Pause, n.o.ble king, ere you express this wish[.]
Let not an error or rash folly spoil My benefaction; pause and then declare, For what you ask shall be, as I have sworn.
_Mid._ Let all I touch be gold, most glorious gold!
Let me be rich! and where I stretch my hands, [51]
(That like Orion I could touch the stars!) Be radiant gold! G.o.d Bacchus, you have sworn, I claim your word,--my ears are quite forgot!
_The Reeds._ Midas, the king, has the ears of an a.s.s.
_Mid._ You lie, & yet I care not--
_Zopyr._ (_aside to Midas_) Yet might I But have advised your Majesty, I would Have made one G.o.d undo the other's work--
_Midas._ (_aside to Zopyr_).
Advise yourself, my friend, or you may grow Shorter by a head ere night.--I am blessed, Happier than ever earthly man could boast.
Do you fulfil your words?
_Bac._ Yes, thoughtless man!
And much I fear if you have not the ears You have the judgement of an a.s.s. Farewel!
I found you rich & happy; & I leave you, Though you know it not, miserably poor.
Your boon is granted,--touch! make gold! Some here Help carry old Silenus off, who sleeps The divine sleep of heavy wine. Farewel!
_Mid._ Bacchus, divine, how shall I pay my thanks[?]
(_Exeunt._)
END OF FIRST ACT.
ACT II.
_Scene; a splendid apartment in the Palace of Midas._