Lines of Wellington Page #5
- NOT RATED
- Year:
- 2012
- 151 min
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Are you going back
when this is all over?
If I'm still alive.
Aren't you?
I don't think
I could bear to see the well.
Good night.
What well, Father?
Ours.
The one Rosa leapt into it
with her son to escape the French.
Let's get some sleep. It's late.
Sergeant?
A semaphore message from Socorro.
It seems the French
won't be long in coming.
Less than a day's march.
They'll be here tomorrow morning.
You're a crook, Penabranca.
I won't haggle...
But I tell you to your face,
you're a thief.
The lad's burning up.
There's plague about. You should
get him to Misericrdia Hospital.
I'm not his father.
I feel sorry for you.
A man all alone...
It's true, really.
I don't think it's fair.
It's your wife, Christ, or isn't she?
What right do I have to have her?
None, whatsoever!
Listen...
Listen.
Let's settle in good terms,
alright?
Like gentleman.
You can have her for 20 cruzados.
I know I should return her for free.
But I've spent some money,
you understand.
She eats, she drinks...
That's expensive as hell nowadays!
We are at war, or did you forget that?
Come on!
Ten cruzados and that's it!
- Alberto!
- Maria de Jesus!
Don't touch me!
Don't you dare touch me, Vicente!
You should be ashamed...
a man in his state.
Come, my love, lean on me.
Get out of my sight, Vicente!
Go away, you coward!
Leave us alone!
Five cruzados.
Six.
It's not worth more.
Good morning, Francisco.
Good afternoon.
First word of the day...
Second word of the day...
Marry me, Maureen.
Marry me.
I cannot.
But why?
So what?
We get married!
Then your child is my child.
No, Francisco!
Percy is dead.
He died.
- The dead don't have children.
- Percy's not dead!
Percy... here.
Percy... here.
Here.
The French will be here tomorrow...
The French. Tomorrow.
If you really want to leave,
A keepsake?
Goodbye.
What place is this, aunt Flora?
What are all these girls doing here?
We should go back home.
I'm terribly tired...
Mother will be getting worried.
No, no, I've let her know, don't worry.
Why are you being so formal?
Are you cross with me, aunty?
No, I'm not cross.
Wait for me here.
I need to have a few words
with my friend over there.
- I'd rather go with you.
- No.
Do as I say.
Wait for me here.
Don't be wilful.
I'll be back.
Good morning, Dona Filipa.
Miss.
Miss?
Yes.
Miss Filipa.
Is this truly the new school, sister?
I thought so.
It is!
I recognized
two or three of the girls...
They were at the Sisters of Mercy
last year.
Mother had said...
...I could stay at home this year.
Tell her I'm not cross with her,
aunt Flora.
Is this my bed?
Well...
I'll be going now...
I have things to do.
I'll leave you here with sister...
I'll be off.
Won't you give me a kiss, aunt Flora?
A kiss. Of course I will!
I was just about to.
I'm so afraid I won't see her again.
Me?
No.
Filipa.
The other one.
Nonsense...
Don't say that, you'll make me cry too.
We'll pray for his soul, my son.
I'm not your son.
Platoon!
Shoulder... Arms!
Platoon!
Prepare to salute the flag.
Present... Arms!
D. Pedro!
Lieutenant, sir!
- I thought you were dead and buried!
- Buried is an exaggeration!
But dead... yes, almost.
How did you get here?
How did you cross the country
with Jacobins all over the place?
Alone?
It's a long story, Sergeant.
But finish the manoeuvre
or they'll turn to pillars of salt.
Platoon!
Shoulder... Arms!
Platoon!
Stand at ease.
I don't know how you got here,
but you came in time.
The French aren't far off.
You've arrived just in time
for the dance.
The outskirts of Lisbon
were covered in fortifications
building for a year and a half.
Marechal Massena, who for 6 months
had been preparing to invade Portugal,
knew nothing
of these huge constructions.
Baron de Marbot!
Wellington?
Wellington.
We soon discovered
that the English entrenchment
formed a huge arc around Lisbon,
extending 15 Portuguese leagues,
equivalent, more or less,
to 15 leagues in France.
Excuse me, sir...
Wasn't that Miss Warren?
Do you know her?
We shared a room.
In hospital, that is.
I mean, her father and I...
You don't say. It's a small world...
She came to bid farewell.
She's returning to England.
Oh, returning?
- Did she ask after me?
- No.
Of course not.
- She probably doesn't remember I exist.
- Quite.
"Ah, think, my Lord,
that any other tye"
"would shame the Caesars,
authors of my birth?"
"No, Madam,
he to whom I mean to give ye"
"may without shame
unite your race with his."
"You need not blush
when you accept his flame."
"- Whom does my Lord intend?
- Madam, my self."
"Your self!"
"I would have nam'd another, Junia,
had there been any other above Nero."
"My eyes, to find a choice
"have travell'd o'er the Court,
Rome, and the Empire..."
Sergeant?
Are you there, Sergeant?
The man with the beard!
Zanaga!
The nurse! Eusbio!
I knew I'd seen him before.
Do you know him?
He carried you
off the battlefield at Buaco.
Zanaga!?
It seems we both knew him before.
But not in the same guise...
Franois-Marie Vilarreal.
Sergeant of the Imperial Guard.
On a mission behind the enemy lines.
Behind the lines
and not in uniform,
you know what to expect...
I did my duty. You do yours.
May I, Major sir?
Go ahead, Lieutenant.
The Abbot and the others?
They fell in the field with honour.
They battled bravely to the last.
I did what I had to.
You did what you had to?
- You betrayed them!
- No, Lieutenant.
My father was Portuguese.
My mother, French.
In all conscience I served both nations
serving the Emperor. I betrayed no one.
Platoon!
- Halt!
- Volunteer for the squad, sir.
- May I ask why?
- The landslide yesterday.
My godson didn't make it.
I don't object,
but nor do I approve.
Personal revenge, Sergeant,
is not seemly in a soldier.
I'm a soldier by chance, Lieutenant.
I was born a farmer.
Advance...
Riflemen!
Advance...
Prisoner!
Arms... Make ready!
Aim...
- Long live the Emperor!
- Fire!
"When the father creator"
"saw the creature
which he had made moving and living,"
"the created image of the eternal gods,"
"he rejoiced,"
"and in his joy,"
"determined to make the copy
still more like the original;"
"and as this was eternal,"
"he sought to make
the universe eternal,"
"so far as might be."
"Now the nature of the ideal being
was everlasting,"
"but to bestow this attribute in its
fulness upon a creature was impossible."
"Wherefore he resolved to have..."
"...a moving image of eternity."
It's over!
Good morning, Ti Miguel.
What have you got for us there?
A Christian, in need of burial.
Burial, here?
I don't know if that's allowed...
It was here he died.
What's the matter, private?
What does he want?
What's this body doing here?
One of the workmen, sir...
wants to bury this deceased.
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"Lines of Wellington" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 22 Nov. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/lines_of_wellington_12615>.
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