Thoroughly with steel combs, until at last
They curried the living flesh from off his bones
And stript his face of gristle, till he was
Skull and half skeleton and yet alive.
You're not for dealing in new gods?


Thomas:
Not I.
Was the man killed?


Captain:
He lived a little while;
But the flies killed him.


Thomas:
Flies? I hope India
Is not a fly-plagued land? I abhor flies.


Captain:
You will see strange ones, for our Indian life
Hath wonderful fierce breeding. Common earth
With us quickens to buzzing flights of wings
As readily as a week-old carcase here
Thrown in a sunny marsh. Why, we have wasps
That make your hornets seem like pretty midges;
And there be flies in India will drink