I am Covetousness, begotten of an old churl in a leather bag; and, might I now obtain my wish, this house, you, and all should turn to gold, that I might lock you safe into my chest. O my sweet gold! (2.3.120-123)
Ha, ha, ha! Faustus hath his leg again, and the horse-courser a bundle of hay for his forty dollars. (4.4.40-42)
I think my master means to die shortly.
He has made his will and given me his wealth:
His house, his goods, and store of golden plate,
Besides two thousand ducats ready coined.
I wonder what he means. (5.1.1-5)