Poe. He says that ’t is a strange creature carrying a burning brand in his bosom.
Sharp. You can afford to be a fool. You ’ve helped Juggers rake in.
Poe. Not a brand, he says, but an immortal star.
Sharp. Thomas, set that oil painting outside, will you?
Poe. They ask the master if they may come to meet me. (Barkeeper approaches Poe) Ah, the master comes himself, for I am one of the chosen.
Barkeeper. Get out o’ this!
Poe. (Rising slowly) Thou mighty one, thy servant hears thee!
Bark. Eh?
Poe. I ’ll be the humblest round thy throne.
Bark. Look here, I was a little soft about you, but now you just shove along!