Francisco Pizarro

For my part, I go to the south.

I did not come to till the soil like a peasant, but to find gold.

They are dogs who will not fight unless whipped.

The Inca is a bird in my hand; why should I fear his flock?

I would rather have one room full of gold than a hundred of their temples.

Their gold is soft, like their people.

If they will not serve God, let them serve me.

I have conquered more with lies than with swords.

Their roads are better than Rome’s, but they are still savages.

I care not if they call me butcher, so long as they call me rich.

The only law here is what I say it is.

Gold is the only god these people understand.

I did not come to convert, but to conquer.

Their king is a puppet; I am the master now.

I would kill a hundred Incas for one ounce of gold.

They build high walls, but they cannot hide from God or Spain.

I am not a merchant, but a conqueror.

Their women are fair, but their men are weak.

I would rather die rich than live poor.

They call me a tyrant, but I gave them civilization.