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I wist not how it is: where is its mouth?

First Pr. Direct thy hand more steadily, good Thane, And fear not thou wilt miss it.(to Hereulf.) Now, youthful chief, one lot remains for thee.

Eth. No, this young chieftain's lot belongs to me; He shall not draw, (putting in his hand quickly and taking out the last lot.) Now, Priest, the lots are finish'd.

First Pr. Well, open then your fates. ''Sec. Th. (opening his and then holding up his hands in extacy.)'' Wife, children, home! I am a living man!

''First Th. (having opened his.)'' I number still with those who breathe the air, And look upon the light! blest heaven so wills it.

''Third Th. (looking at his joyfully.)'' Fate is with me! the race of Cormac lives!

Selred, what is thy lot? is't not dark?

Sel. No, Hereulf.