Volpone

The play opens on a Venetian magnifico greeting a heap of coin like a saint in its shrine: "Good morning to the day; and next, my gold." Volpone is not dying, but he has spent years in bed under his furs, groaning, while the richest men in the city file past with presents, each certain the childless old fox will name him heir. His servant Mosca keeps every one of them hoping at once, and the gifts get steeper, until a merchant who has sat down and done the arithmetic sends his own wife to the sickbed.