"Those demons, sir archer, were French soldiers!"
"Blood and death! Do you imagine plain soldiers are able to beat us? They were demons, by St. George! real horned and clawed demons, armed with flaming swords—they plunged over our heads and pelted us with stones and balls!"
"It might have been the furious projectiles from some artillery pieces that were masked behind some hedge, sir archer."
"Artillery pieces of Satan, yes; but of France, no!"
"As true as our Cardinal has his red hat on his head, if the strumpet of the Armagnacs is not burned this time, myself and the other archers of my company will roast Bishop Cauchon together with all his tonsured brethren."
"Ha, ha, ha, ha! That is well said, my Hercules! To roast Bishop Cauchon like a pig! That would be a funny spectacle!"
"They are taking long! Death to the witch!"
"Do they expect us to sleep here to-night?"
"To the fagots with the heretic!"
"Death to the relapsed sinner!"