Drake (greatly excited). Wretches!
Comagre. Well! without preparation or notice, in the darkness of the night we were attacked—robbed—massacred. The village was set on fire, men, women, and children were hurled into the flames.
Comagre. The morning sun rose upon calcined bones, and blackened ruins, where before was pleasure, loveliness and peace!
Drake (holding up his hands and walking about in great excitement). Horrible recital! Barbarous, unprovoked! Brutal cruelty! This is worse than the ravening of wild beasts.
Comagre (with intensified rage). Wild beasts! The rage of the most savage beast of the forest is gentleness compared with it! The boa will gorge himself and go to sleep. The ferocious puma will pounce upon a single victim and his appetite for blood will be appeased. But the ruthless fury of the Spaniard, when exhausted with slaughter, calls upon the devouring flames to aid him, and commits to senseless havoc, what his licentious appetite cannot enjoy, or his insatiate avarice carry away! (He pauses breathless. Then walks about with hurried step, gasping and frantic with rage.)
Drake. The same everywhere—Spain wars upon mankind, like fiends. The object, slavery or desolation.
Comagre. Give us revenge—Smite! Kill! Destroy the accursed foe! On with your devastating thunder, those iron mouths that wing their viewless death from far, that dauntless heart, that powerful arm. Come on Brother; come, Revenge. Revenge! Revenge! (Dragging Drake along, exeunt).
Scene changes.