FENTON (at the shot-window). Torches coming from the boreen, and a white flag beneath them. I can see the faces. (With a cry) Look, Jack! A'God's name! Look!
(JOHN TALBOT springs to the window.)
DRISCOLL. What is it you're seeing?
FENTON. It is—
JOHN TALBOT (turning from the window). 'Tis Hugh Talbot comes!
'Tis the Captain of the Gate!
BUTLER. With them? A prisoner?
JOHN TALBOT. No, no! No prisoner! He wears his sword.
(BUTLER snatches up his piece and resumes watch.)
FENTON. Then he'll have made terms with them! Terms!
NEWCOMBE (embracing DRISCOLL). Terms for us! Terms for us!