Bill: You see this knife? I'm gonna teach you to speak English with this fucking knife.
Amsterdam Vallon: Lord, place the steel of the Holy Spirit in my spine and the love of the Virgin Mary in my heart.
Boss Tweed: The appearance of law must be upheld, especially when it's being broken.
Boss Tweed: You killed an elected official?
Bill: Who elected him?
Boss Tweed: You don't know what you've done to yourself.
Bill: [taps his glass eye with a knife] I know your works. You are neither cold nor hot. So because you are lukewarm, I will spew you out of my mouth. You can build your filthy world without me. I took the father. Now I'll take the son. You tell young Vallon I'm gonna paint Paradise Square with his blood. Two coats. I'll festoon my bedchamber with his guts. As for you, Mr. Tammany-fucking-Hall, you come down to the Points again, and you'll be dispatched by my own hand. Get back to your celebration and let me eat in peace.
Bill: How old are you, Amsterdam?
Amsterdam Vallon: I'm not sure, sir. I never did quite figure it.
Bill: I'm forty-seven. Forty-seven years old. You know how I stayed alive this long? Fear. Fearsome acts. A man steals from me, I cut off his hand. If he lies to me, I cut out his tongue. If he stands up against me, I cut off his head, stick it on a pike and lift it up for all to see. A spectacle of fearsome acts. That's what maintains the order of things. Fear.
Bill: Mulberry Street... and Worth... Cross and Orange... and Little Water. Each of the Five Points is a finger. When I close my hand it becomes a fist. And, if I wish, I can turn it against you.
[Amsterdam goes to wipe blood off razor]
Priest Vallon: No son, never. The blood stays on the blade. One day you'll understand.
Bill: At 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.
Crowd: Yeah.
Priest Vallon: By the ancient laws of combat, I accept the challenge of the so called "natives." They plague our people at every turn, but from this day out, they shall plague us no more. For let it be known, that the hand that tries to strike us from this land shall be swiftly cut down.
Crowd: YEAH.
Bill: Is this it priest, the popes new army, a few crusty bitches and a hand full of rag tags?
Priest Vallon: Now now Bill, you swore this was a battle between warriors, not a bunch of miss nancies, so warriors is what I brought.
[Various Irish Gangs proceed to appear]
Priest Vallon: Now, now Bill. You said that this was a fight for warriors. So warriors is what I brought
Amsterdam Vallon: When you get all of the Irish together, we don't got a gang, we got an army.
Boss Tweed: You killed an elected official.
Bill: Who elected him?
Bill: Ears and noses will be the trophies of the day. But no hand shall touch him.
Amsterdam Vallon: When you kill a king, you don't stab him in the dark. You kill him where the entire court can watch him die.
Bill: what's your name boy?
Amsterdam Vallon: Amsterdam
Bill: Amsterdam? I am New York.
|
