_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._

_Enter Midas
(with a golden rose in his hand)._

_Mid._ Gold! glorious gold! I am made up of gold!
I pluck a rose, a silly, fading rose,
Its soft, pink petals change to yellow gold;
Its stem, its leaves are gold--and what before
Was fit for a poor peasant's festal dress
May now adorn a Queen. I lift a stone,
A heavy, useless mass, a slave would spurn,
What is more valueless? 'Tis solid gold!
A king might war on me to win the same.
And as I pass my hand thus through the air,
A little shower of sightless dust falls down
A shower of gold. O, now I am a king!
I've spread my hands against my palace walls,