José: We just killed Federico García Lorca!

Juan: We left him in a ditch and I fired two bullets into his arse for being a queer.”*

Amando: You killed Lorca? You and the corporal here?

José (nodding): I was there. I would have shot him, too, if the captain hadn’t already wasted two bullets.

Amando pulls a revolver from his coat and rests the grip on the table, pointing the muzzle between the two men.

Amando: You murdered him because you hated him?

Juan: We executed him to cleanse the nation.

Amando: If there was justice, I would march you to the police station to be tried for murder.

Juan: There is justice. It was done.

Amando: It is my duty to try you, and to punish you, because this is the only room where that can possibly happen now. You confess that you murdered Lorca?

José [rising]: I will go into the village and find soldiers. This man is crazy.

Amando shoots José in the chest and points the revolver directly at Juan.

Amando: Your end will the the same as his, but I will give you time to think about it first. He escaped fear and regret; you will not. We will wait.

A long time passes. The old clock ticks. Some hay blows in under the door.

Amando: You should pray.

Juan: Autumn will come with snails,
misted grapes and bunches of hills
but no one will watch your eyes
because you have died forever.

Amando: What! How do you know those words?

Juan: They were Lorca’s last. He said them in the ditch. They made an impression on me.

Amando: You believe that I cannot shoot you now, because you said those lines?

Juan: You cannot.

Amando: If I let you go, you will be boasting and laughing by midnight.

Juan: You cannot shoot me now.

*Real words, quoted by Jeremy Edelman, The New York Review, June 5, 2014