Gow. (That a few feet of snow on a nest of rocky mountains should have hatched this dream-people!) (To Priest) Ye have reason in nature—all you’ve known of it.... But—a thousand years—I fear they will not suffice.
The Priest. Go you back! We hold the passes into and out of the world. Do you defy us?
Ferdinand. (To Gow) I warned you. There’s none like them under Heaven. Say it!
Gow. Defy your puissance, Señors? Not I. We’ll have our bombards away, all, by noon; and our poor hosts with them. And you, Señors, shall have your triumph upon us.
Ferdinand. Ah! That touches! Let them shout and blow their horns half a day and they’ll not think of aught else!
Gow. Fall to your riots then! Señors, ye have won. We’ll leave you the head of the Pass—for thirty generations. (Loudly) The mules to the bombards and away!
Ferdinand. Most admirably you spoke to my poor text.
Gow. Maybe the better, Fox, because the discourse has drawn them to the head of the Pass. Meantime, our main body has taken the lower road, with all the Artillery.
Ferdinand. Had you no bombards here, then?
Gow. None, Innocence, at all! None, except your talk and theirs!