BROCK. Halt! There's another from yon bastion flung; And, see! another waves adown the road-- Borne by an officer--what think you, Nichol? NICHOL Your threats are conquerors! The Fort is ours! GLEGG. Yes, look! the gunners have been all withdrawn Who manned the cannon at yon western gate. PROCTOR. So many men to yield without a blow! Why, this is wonderful! It cannot be! BROCK. Say, rather, should not be, and yet it is! 'Tis plainly written in this captain's face. _Officer with flag of truce approaches_. OFFICER. This letter from our General contains Proposals to capitulate--pray send An officer to ratify the terms. [GENERAL BROCK _reads letter_.] BROCK. You have a wise and politic commander! OFFICER. Our General knowing your superior force-- NICHOL. (_Aside_.) O this is good! 'tis barely half his own! OFFICER. And, noting your demand of yesterday With clearer judgment, doth accede to it, To bar effusion of much precious blood By reasonable treaty of surrender. BROCK. Why, this is excellent, and rare discretion! OFFICER. He fears your Indians could not be restrained. Our women's prayers--red visions of the knife--