BUTLER. We've powder enough—you said it, sir,—laid there at the stairhead, to blow the bridge to hell.

HUGH TALBOT. Aye, Myles, you've hit it!

(Holds out his hand.)

BUTLER. Not yet, sir!

HUGH TALBOT. Hereafter, then. God speed you, lads!

JOHN TALBOT. Speed you, sir! (All five stand at salute as HUGH
TALBOT goes out. In the moment's silence upon his exit, JOHN
TALBOT bars the door and turns to his comrades.) You have—Hugh
Talbot's orders. Take your pieces! Driscoll! Newcombe!

(Obediently the two join FENTON at windows.) Butler!

BUTLER. Aye! We have Hugh Talbot's orders.

(Points to powder-keg.)

JOHN TALBOT. Are you meaning—