분야
hwpNo son, never. The blood stays on the blade.
One day youll understand.
Some of it I have remembered.
And the rest I took from dreams.
St. Michael the Archangel defend us in battle.
Be our protector.
Against the snares. And the wickedness of the devil.
Now son, whos that?
St. Michael.
Who is it?
St. Michael.
And what did he do?
He cast Satan out of Paradse.
Good boy!
Johnny!
Whats the battle?
Natives against the Dead Rabbits.
Which are you?
What do you think? Dead Rabbits!
Well,well, Monk!
Are you with us or not?
For the last time Vallon, only if the money is right.
Ill give you 10 per notch.
10?
You have my word.
10 per notch. Per new notch.
Then Im your man.
Is this it, Priest? The Popes new army?
A few crusty bitches and a handful of ragtags!
I know Bill. You swore, this was a battle between warriors.
Not a bunch of Miss Nancys.
So warriors is what I brought.
The OConnell Guard!
The Plug Uglies!
The Shirt Tails!
The Chichesters!
The Forty Thieves!
Bene.
On my challenge, by the ancient laws of combat...
...we are met at this chosen ground...
...to settle for good and all...
...who holds sway, over the Five Points.
Us Natives, born rightwise to this fine land....
...or the foreign hordes defiling it!
Under the ancient laws of combat I accept the challenge of the so called Natives.
You plague our people at every turn!
But from this day out, you shall plague us no more!
Let it be known, that the hand that tries to strike us from this land...
...shall be swiflty cut down!
Then may the Christian Lord, guide my hand, against your Roman popery!
Prepare to receive the true Lord!
Priest!
Look at me!
Who is this under my knife?
Father, get up! Get up!
Where are you?
Where are you?
No, my son.
Dont never look away!
Soon be over, Priest.
Finish it!
You may need this to cross the river.
Ears and noses will be the trophies of the day.
But no hand shall touch him!
No hand shall touch him!
Hell cross over whole!
In honour!
Not before I get whats owed!
No!
Its fair. A touch indelicate, but fair.
My sympathies.
What shall we do with the boy?
Look at me.
Give him to the law.
See he gets a good education.
Okay, boss. Say goodbye to your father.
Hey. Take it easy!
Hurry! Come in here!
Come here, boy. Youre going to Hells Gate!
There he is!
Get him!
Priest Vallon died a noble death.
But his Dead Rabbits is done and outlawed.
Let no one even speak their name from now on.
In this place, youve grown from a boy into a man.
Put to death the earthly things in you.
Immorality. Impurity. Passion. Vengeance.
The Lord has forgiven you.
You also must forgive.
You go forth to a country torn apart by civil strife.
Thank you, Reverend.
Lend your hand to the work that yet remains.
That this war may end.
And the plague of slavery, that brought this confergration down upon us ...
...vanish forever from the earth.
In the second year of the great civil war...
...when the irish brigades marched through the streets...
...New york was a city full of tribes.
War chiefs. Rich and poor.
Lincoln will make all white men slaves!
It wasnt a city really.
It was more a furnace.
Where cities someday might be forged.
Thats the spirit boys.
Go off and die for your blackie friends.
We should have run a better man against Lincoln when we had the chance.
They are trying to say ,we are no different than niggers.
You aint.
Go back to Africa, niggers!
The angriest talk was of the new conscription act.
The first draft in Union history.
Join the army lads. Three square meals a day and good pay.
When the Irish came, the city was in a fever.
Since the time of the great famine theyd come streaming off the boats.
And they got a right warm welcome.
Go back to Ireland, you dumb Mick!
Youll remember that!
Get back on the boat, Paddy!
I came only 2 hours down river from Hell Gate...
..but they all took me for an immigrant.
Why not?
There were a 1000 different accents in New York..
..and to the Natives you see, they were all the same.
Come here to take the chill off your soul and the weight off your heart.
Welcome to America son, your long arduous journey is over.
Go back to your own country.
Vote Tammany!
America for Americans!
New York loved William Tweed and hated him.
And those of us trying to be thieves....
...we couldnt help but admire him.
Mr. Cutting. Gentlemen.
Thank you for coming. Its an honour.
Mr. Tweed?
Sir! Please! Excuse me?
I think yourre frightening them.
So?
Dont mind him, he used to be an Irishman.
The Five Points!
Murderers Alley. Brickbat Mansion.
The Gates of hell!
In this wild place....
Look upon the face of this poor child.
She lives in squalor, in this godforsaken den of vice and misery behind me.
Every year the Reformers came.
Every year the Points got worse.
As if it liked being dirty.
Where am I going to go?
Move.
The Reverend wants you out of here.
You may or not know Bill, that every day I go down to the waterfront...
...with hot soup for the Irish as they come on shore.
As part of building a political base.
Ive noticed yo
