Let the dogs die according to the custom of the land, and to you, Teule my brother, I say presume not too far.' Alas! the heart of Guatemoc grew ever fiercer as the struggle wore on, and indeed it was little to be wondered at.
This was the dreadful plan of Cortes: to destroy the city piecemeal as he advanced towards its heart, and it was carried out without mercy.
So soon as the Spaniards got footing in a quarter, thousands of the Tlascalans were set to work to fire the houses and burn all in them alive.

Before the siege was done Tenoctitlan, queen of the valley, was but a heap of blackened ruins.

Cortes might have cried over Mexico with Isaiah the prophet: 'Thy pomp is brought down to the grave, and the noise of thy viols: the worm is spread under thee and the worms cover thee.

How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! how art thou cut down to the ground which didst weaken the nations!' In all these fights I took my part, though it does not become me to boast my prowess.

Still the Spaniards knew me well and they had good reason.