a small matter, and he would do it; all the islands of the Western Inde he would uproot and fling into the face of the Cuban governor before he would yield one jot of his stolen advantage. Each for himself were Velazquez, Columbus, and Charles, and the rest of this world’s great and little ones, and Cortés would be for himself. Henceforth, like Themistocles, though he would die for his country he would not trust her. Return to Cuba he well knew for him was death, or ignominy worse than death. His only way was toward Mexico. As well first as last. All the past life of Cortés, all his purposes for the future, concentred in these resolves to make them the pivot of his destiny. Cortés, master of kings, arbiter of men’s lives! As for these traitors, they shall die; and if other impediments appear, as presently we shall see them appear, be they in the form of eye or right hand, they shall be
Tyrant, he might be branded; ay, as well that as another name, for so are great ends often brought to pass by