BUTLER. It's not I will be failing him now!
FENTON (at window). God! They waste no time.
JOHN TALBOT. Already—they have dared—
FENTON. Here—this moment—under our very eyes!
DRISCOLL. Christ Jesus!
(Goes back from the window, with his arm across his eyes, and falls on his knees in headlong prayer.)
JOHN TALBOT. Kit! Kit Newcombe!
(Motions him to window.)
NEWCOMBE. I cannot! I—
JOHN TALBOT. Look forth! Look! And remember—when you meet them—remember! (NEWCOMBE stands swaying, clutching at the grating of the window, as he looks forth.) Lads! (Motions to BUTLER and FENTON to carry the powder to the stairhead.) The time is short. His orders!