A BOURGEOIS. Lord, what shall we do?
A STUDENT. To the gates! Everybody to the gates! Don't let them in!
A BOURGEOIS. As if they could stop them! Poor people like ourselves, without arms! What do they know of war! Can they keep out the best troops of the kingdom?
ANOTHER. They're in already! And there's the Bastille; it's like a cancer—incurable!
A WORKINGMAN. The vile monster! Who will free us?
A STUDENT. They've already made a company of Swiss Guards retreat today.
ANOTHER. Their cannon are in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine.
A WORKINGMAN. Can't do a thing while we have this bit in our mouths. We've got to take it out first.
A BOURGEOIS. How?
A WORKINGMAN. I don't know how, but it's got to be done.