Hath fallen—as flames this courier torch to tell.
Myself will dance the prelude to this joy.
My master’s house hath had a lucky throw,
And thrice six falls to me,[n4] thanks to the flame!
Soon may he see his home; and soon may I
Carry my dear-loved master’s hand in mine!
The rest I whisper not, for on my tongue
Is laid a seal.[n5] These walls, if they could speak,
Would say strange things. Myself to those that know
Am free of speech, to whoso knows not dumb. [Exit.