SECOND SON. I should like to be a prince. I would do nothing all day long but wear my golden crown.
THIRD SON. I want to find a purse of gold. I would never work again, I tell you!
[The farmer shakes his head sadly.]
FARMER. My sons, these vines have not been dug about. Come, do this work as I have told you.
(The sons take up their spades, but unwillingly.)
Now listen: a pot of gold is hidden in this vineyard. It is buried deep beneath these vines.
SONS. A pot of gold!
FARMER. It is all I have to leave you. I think it best to-tell you now, for I cannot live much longer.
FIRST SON. Why do you hide the gold, my father?
FARMER. That you may dig for it.