Deadwood s01e10 Episode Script

Yeah.
What was in my mind to raise my hand? Anyways, time for breakfast.
- You go ahead.
- Bullshit.
Come on.
Would a letter to the paper be an idea? Same time I give the proposal to Farnum? - Yes.
- Marshal public sentiment and favor, maybe fence 'em in a little.
- Excellent approach.
- Goddamn quicksand is what these commissioner positions amount to.
Yes, they do.
It's all a hoot and a holler to you, though, isn't it, Sol? - No, it isn't.
- Jesus Christ.
- Breakfast vittles at the ready.
- Mayor.
As far as use for the fees to be levied on businesses, I worked a proposal up on a permanent infirmary and a camp dump.
The first use for those fees is paying bribes to the legislature.
Their bagman's in transit.
- If there's anything fucking left.
- Why, Mr.
Bullock, you sound like you want to wring my neck.
Submit your ideas, Bullock, and by all means, I'll take them under advisement.
Always glad to hear from the camp Health Commissioner.
Give the idea to the damn paper first.
Please, take your passage.
Cocksucker.
What is this celestial doing approaching The Gem's front door? The tit licker.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! - Stop where the fuck you are, Mr.
Wu.
- Swe'gen.
Yeah, well, I'll get Mr.
"Swe'gen," but first, you gotta walk the fuck out - and then come around the back.
- Swe'gen.
Uh, nope, no! No! No, closed for a while.
Lick later.
We got us a situation here, Al! Come in the front fucking door.
Bring him up.
You want me to take him out and bring him around back? Bring him the fuck up.
Come on, Mr.
Wu.
Come on.
Put him in the chair and get out, Johnny.
Sit.
Sit! He won't sit.
- Get out.
- Yes, sir.
What is it, Wu? Do you think I should open it back up? I believe that's what Al would want.
Mayor.
August commencement to my administration stand stymied outside a saloon beside a degenerate tit licker.
Now, the this this is one of you, huh? Oh, this this is him dead? And these two.
cocksucker! Yeah, glad I taught you that fucking word.
These are whites, huh? White cocksucker! Two white cocksuckers killed him and stole the dope that he was bringing to you.
White cocksucker! You, Swe'gen.
The dope that you were gonna fucking sell to me? White cocksucker.
These two white cocksuckers? Who the fuck did it? - Who? - Who, you ignorant fucking Chink?! - Wu?! - Who?! Who who stole the fucking dope?! - Cocksucker! - Aw, Jesus.
Those are the first "cocksuckers" I have ever heard shouted from that room, Dan, that didn't come from Al's mouth that wasn't followed by Al coming over to that railing, pointing at you and beckoning you up them stairs with your fucking knife.
I begrudge that pervert his capacity for happiness.
I do.
Them people worship a fat man seated on his ass.
You listen to me, hmm? Listen.
I find cocksuckers.
I find.
I find dope and cocksuckers who steal - fucking dope, huh? - White cocksucker.
Oh, yeah.
I'll find those fucking cocksuckers.
Now, get the fuck out of here, Wu, the back way, you understand? The back way, or we'll start getting people having the wrong fucking idea of things around here, huh? Where's the dope fiend? Ain't seen Jimmy Irons in three or four days.
Fucking find him.
- Morning, E.
B.
- Morning, sir.
Anything the mayor should know? Name of another tailor.
Didn't we have an engagement to stuff envelopes, Al? Not until I get the currency to stuff 'em with.
"Any person who causes offal, manure, rubbish or filth to be discharged in the common areas of the camp except in the areas designated the camp dump, shall be subject to a fine of not less than $1 or more than $3, such revenues to be used for dump upkeep and to build and keep up a camp infirmary.
" That's excellent, Mr.
Bullock.
- Morning.
- Good morning, Mr.
Bullock.
- Gentlemen.
- Mrs.
Garret.
- Good morning, madam.
- Good morning.
And good morning to you, young lady.
It's Mr.
Bullock's ideas on refuse disposal.
It is terribly crowded today.
- Mmm.
- We were just remarking just yesterday that it couldn't possibly get more crowded.
And yet today, it is.
I'm gonna ask after E.
B.
Farnum.
Mr.
Farnum's away from the desk.
Gem Saloon, across the way.
Two rooms.
There's no vacancy, sir.
I'll work it out while you eat.
There's a man outside with two horses.
You send the man inside, see the horses stabled.
- Don't ask no fucking extra for it.
- Yes, sir.
Mr.
Farnum's doing a lined office business.
Or should I say "Mayor" Farnum? Don't, unless you feel you have to.
That very attractive solitary woman is Miss Joanie Stubbs, a supervisory figure at Cy Tolliver's Bella Union Saloon.
- Your cravat's in your bacon.
- Oh.
Fuck this! Is it fucking crowded in here or you just got some big fucking feet? Maybe it's the lethal combination of 'em both.
This one legislator's named on the list you were given twice, Al.
- Lucalis Childs of Bismarck.
- Give him two envelopes.
I'll call him on it if it ever suits my purpose.
As damp as your hands are, why do you continuously lick your fucking thumb? Habit, I suppose.
Could you learn the habit of licking a fucking stump? If Health Commissioner Bullock has his way, some of the levies meant to defray the cost of these payoffs may get diverted.
- To what? - Infirmary for the camp.
- Garbage dump.
- Well, that type of shit's inevitable.
E.
B.
, steal none of this money.
Gratuitous, hurtful and unnecessary.
When I deal with these cocksuckers down the road, I need to be able to look any one of 'em in the eye, name what they were paid - and know I'm right.
- Understood.
Intact and undiminished.
- What is it, Al? - Half a chance this could be him.
The bagman? He wasn't to be here till tonight.
Name's Silas Adams.
I'm looking for E.
B.
Farnum.
I'm Mayor E.
B.
Farnum, Mr.
Adams.
And this is Al Swearengen.
I'm to give this to you from Magistrate Clagett, and you're to give those to me.
Pour yourself and your friend a drink.
Stop! You motherless fucking whores.
Fuck you! - Fuck me?! - Gentlemen! You know what he says here? No.
You think you should've asked me that before you motherfucked me? A double-crossing cocksucker.
That's Magistrate Clagett.
Is that the message you want me to take back to him? That's the gist of it.
Let me put it a better way before I send you and your mute friend back down the fucking trail.
No later than tonight.
- You giving me a time limit? - Yeah.
Pussy and whiskey free, if you want it.
I make my own arrangements.
Mr.
Adams, may I accompany you to my hotel, sir? Mr.
Adams? Hey, Al.
Dan's got Jimmy Irons.
Tell him I'll receive him in my fucking chambers, okay? Get out of here.
- You work out the rooms? - You gotta share.
Just send up two plates of fucking food.
And don't spit in 'em, partner.
Mr.
Utter.
I'd 'bout given up hope.
Yes.
Mighty kind of you, Miss Stubbs.
How's the freight business working out? All a man could wish for and verging on more than he can handle.
Glad to hear it.
How'd you do looking for your whorehouse? I ain't found a spot yet.
I guess, to be more honest, I'd say I found a few, but ain't settled on one yet, absolutely.
- I see.
- Everyone done? Because if not, - I fear for our lives.
- I'm done.
Let's take a nice brisk walk.
Shit.
Oh God.
Did l did l did I spill on anyone? - No.
- Sorry.
- Where y'all headed? - Gonna take the air.
Join us if the opportunity permits.
It's good to see you, Charlie.
Have a good day.
You too, Miss Stubbs.
Madam, as crowded as it was yesterday and more so today, it shows no sign of becoming less crowded.
You mind getting your ass out of my shoulder? You got a rude fucking mouth, fella.
Conditions in that dining room have grown increasingly oppressive.
- It's crowded, for a fact.
- Price of the camp's success.
That fella was being smart with you, Merrick.
Your ass was nowhere near his shoulder.
Well, whatever my proximity, it was certainly unintentional.
Well, believe me, I had the angle.
We was just remarking how tight it's all getting in there.
Ah, yet how many memories fond to the recollection have their setting in that tight little dining room? Yeah, well, it's fucked now.
Anyways, we ought to open soon.
Who would argue that the venue was the cause of these happy memories, nor the bill of fare? The bitter coffee, the rancid bacon, those stale biscuits that were tomb and grave to so many insects.
No, gentlemen, it was the meandering conversation, the lingering with men of character, some of whom are walking with me now, that was such pleasure to experience and such a joy now to recall.
Good of you to say, Mr.
Merrick.
Yeah, back at ya as far as that goes.
Yeah.
Gentlemen, what's to prevent us from freeing our friendship from dependence on that little dining room? Relying not on happenstance and appetite to further commerce between us, but on our own conscious choice? - Meaning what? - Meaning, Mr.
Utter, the most informal and disorganized - of clubs.
- We gotta open, Sol.
Yeah, I don't join clubs.
Now, now, its sole purpose could be just walking together as we are now.
Well, why don't we just walk together when we happen to be out? We could, or we could dedicate ourselves to the principle of walking together.
Maybe all we need is a name.
Sol? We gotta open.
- Yeah, I got freight coming in.
- This was good.
I enjoyed this.
Yeah, we'll do it again.
- Morning, Mr.
Merrick.
- Thank you, Mr.
Bullock.
And thank you for the letter to the editor.
"The Ambulators.
" Huh.
Where have you been, Jimmy? So fucking sick, Mr.
Swearengen.
- Chills, fever.
- Yeah, I hear it still in your chest.
Couple times, felt like turning my face to the fucking wall.
Fucking pale you are, too.
L I've rounded the corner, though.
Plan for my return today or tomorrow.
Wu's opium courier was robbed.
Oh, is that so? Well, was it money they got or dope? All his fucking dope.
Uh-oh.
- So you didn't get your resupply.
- No.
- Had you any laid by? - No, sir.
"Uh-oh," eh, Jimmy? It sounds like I'm in for a dry time.
Some more aches and pains coming up for me.
When was Wu supposed to hear again from California? Can he even make himself understood to you? I'm that amazed how the fuck you and him can make yourselves understood any way to each other.
Jimmy, what become of that dope-fiend, faro dealer that I hired to apprise me of what transpired over at Tolliver's? Leon? Leon, that's right.
Jeez, he just disappeared, didn't he? Where the fuck has he got to? You've been wrong since you walked in here.
You know that, Jimmy, don't you? Like I said, sir, I feel like hell.
Is that what I mean? Well, what do you mean, Mr.
Swearengen? You been lying, Jimmy.
Smell of cat's piss in this room is so bad, I want to burn down the fucking building.
I'm nervous, sir.
I'm always nervous around you.
Nervousness don't cause that.
Lying causes cat piss smell.
I want to tear this entire fucking structure down.
I'll strangle you and throw you off the balcony, you stinking little cocksucker if you don't hurry to tell me where and what's left of that fucking dope that you and that other weasel have been slamming into your dope-fiend fucking veins during your fucking convalescence.
God, Mr.
Swearengen Jesus, what a fucking stink! Not to mention, you kill a fucking Chink courier and the headache over that I'm gonna have with fucking Wu if I ever get this fucking stench - out of my fucking nostrils.
- I just shit myself, sir.
I'm saying it now before the smell gets you.
- You shit yourself? - I'm sorry.
Go ahead, throw yourself off the balcony.
I'm gonna crawl, sir, I shouldn't stand.
Where's the fucking dope? At Leon's, I'll show you exactly.
I'll tell you everything.
We were four days up in his room.
Hurry the fuck up.
Go on, throw yourself.
And stay in the fucking muck until I'm down there.
I just got a splinter the length of my arm in my fucking palm.
- It's all right.
- Go.
Go, Jimmy.
Come on.
Come on, get your shit-smeared ass off my balcony.
Go, go, go! I hurt my arm.
But I'm okay.
You fucking lie there now.
I'm just gonna roll forward, so so I don't get trampled.
Jimmy Irons is in the muck.
Don't let him scuttle off until Dan emerges with other orders.
How'd it go with Jimmy? Lying thieving cocksucker threw himself off a balcony.
He'll lead you to whatever shithole him and that dope-fiend faro dealer from Tolliver's have been using to slam Wu's junk into their arms.
Change Irons into a pair of the other cocksucker's trousers and bring 'em both back here, plus whatever dope's left.
All right.
- That the reverend idling by the piano? - Yes, sir.
- Has he explained his presence at all? - No, sir.
But he ain't been trying to lead no lost souls to the Lord.
So there's that.
Reverend.
Mr.
Swearengen.
- Your new piano plays wonderfully.
- Ain't it delightful? Dave, go get a free touch from Wanda, huh? What's the matter with your eye? I'm not certain.
Something's been amiss the last week or so.
Anyways, not wanting to give offense, would you mind me asking you to frequent another joint? No.
No, I understand.
Man of the cloth slows business down, huh? I understand, certainly.
Hey, what what's that then, hmm? Something amiss with my leg, as well.
How you dealing with the fits, huh? Nothing amiss with those.
They come with some regularity.
- My brother suffered them.
- Did he? Any case, don't take me for inhospitable.
Off hours, any purpose you want to visit, hmm, hmm? Incognito or the like, I'll be happy to make it work.
I just happened to hear the piano.
All right, Minister.
All right, Mr.
Swearengen.
Fucking new piano.
- Afternoon.
- Afternoon.
Afternoon, Hostetler.
Afternoon.
Now, I got other interests in my property.
If'n you want it, better make an offer.
I'm not gonna make an offer today.
- How much time would you need? - I don't know.
I said when I was ready, I'd be by to you.
You don't want to rush me.
I was giving you first opportunity.
- No one is rushing you.
- All right.
Fair offer from other interests, I'm gonna take it.
All right, Hostetler.
I'll be having a pickaxe.
Bargain at $7.
It's open.
- Hi ya, kid.
- Hi, Eddie.
Did that blood stain get you the special rate? Have a seat, Eddie.
I'd offer you a drink, but I don't have any booze.
Settle on a location for your new place yet? I'm looking.
Good.
- That's a lie.
- Long as it's the only one you told me.
I don't want Cy to back me, and I don't know how to do anything without him.
I'll back you.
You don't have that kind of money.
- I will.
- You gonna turn prospector, Eddie? I'm gonna rob Cy.
Don't, Eddie.
He'll know.
What's the time, kid? No, he won't.
I do business with this fucking man.
Wu does 50 fucking things for me.
You rob his fucking courier and kill the cocksucker.
What the fuck do I do with you, huh? I'm so fucked up, Mr.
Swearengen.
I can't make a case for myself.
Well, what would you want to say? From you, I have received no service of any kind at any point.
That chair would make a better spy.
I've worked hard for you, Mr.
Swearengen.
- My habit's a fuckin' curse.
- Oh God.
I wish the fuck I never took up opium in my life.
If something might persuade you, Mr.
Swearengen, to say you couldn't find us and give us a day's start out of camp You got almost half the dope back, maybe a little less.
So I give him a little less than half the dope, which you being the cat piss stinking liars you are, he'll probably draw a picture explaining to me is 10% of the dope.
And then I'll probably draw a picture for him, portraying myself a cunt! 'Cause in that Chink mind of his, I'm supposed to bring you to him for his pig's fucking supper.
Please fucking God, Mr.
Swearengen, don't give us to Wu for his pigs.
We're here to be overcharged on some fucking meat.
Will Your Chink Highness fucking permit us to go inside and get robbed blind on a side of elk? I found the cocksuckers that stole your dope and that's what's left of the fucking shipment.
Cocksuckers! Oh yeah, I'm all fucking for it, Wu.
But neither of us would have reached our present comfortable position freezing our balls off if we didn't understand you can't cut the throat of every cocksucker whose character it would improve.
Cocksucker.
What happens after the white cocksuckers' throats have been cut and two dozen more white cocksuckers get their loads on and decide to teach you and all your Chink friends a fucking lesson? Who's gonna walk away from that get-together, huh, Wu? Cocksucker! Yeah.
Cocksucker.
Swe'gen bring you cocksucker.
- Swe'gen.
- But only one, Wu.
One cocksucker, not two.
Cocksucker.
One.
No two.
I give up two whites for one Chink, when they're finished stringing you up, they'll come get me.
How much? Swe'gen.
Even money this'll end up a fucking bloodbath.
Every fucking time I come with one price in mind and leave having paid in double.
How does this Wu do it to me, huh? Think these Chinks understand you? They understand my fucking attitude.
That he's a fucking wily big shot.
Builds him up amongst his people.
Take them two dope-fiends over to the baths while I converse with Tolliver over which one gets murdered.
It's a nice piece of meat.
So cut a piece off for yourself, put the rest in the cellar, then take them hoople heads to the bath.
Nice meat! If it's your missing faro dealer you're drinking over, he just threw up in my office.
Had you been sharing space with him a while? Only long enough to find out him and a fellow dope-fiend who works for me robbed and murdered a Chink opium courier.
Leon, Leon, Leon.
Second best thimble rigger I ever saw when he wasn't chasing the dragon.
You do realize I'm presenting you with a mutual problem.
Which I expect's a little ways down the road, so I'm waxing philosophical till you tell me what you want.
I made a deal with the boss Chink to give him one of the two dope-fiends.
Do I assume some piece of the opium this courier bore was intended for you? Ah, so you got a reason to keep the Chink boss happy.
I don't, so I can stand on principle.
What's your fucking principle? A white dope-fiend's still white.
I don't deliver white men to Chinks Leaving me with a bag of shit to hold.
Maybe you should think harder about trafficking in fucking junk.
I'm a purveyor of spirits, Cy, dope fucking included, and when chance affords, a thief, but I ain't no fucking hypocrite.
I think we're done, Al.
But in my line, I'm used to certain types thinking they need the last word.
No, my last word is the fucking bagman's here from Yankton, so get up your fucking share.
Where's fucking Joanie staying? I don't know, Cy.
Ah, don't fucking lie to me.
I don't know.
If you see her at whatever fucking place you don't know where she's staying at, tell her I have some good fucking news for her about upcoming real estate availabilities if she'd ever show up to hear about it.
- Okay? - Sure, boss.
Thank you.
That ain't right, see? My father was a preacher of the Word and that ain't right.
So this what it's come to in Deadwood, eh, Doc? Ministers kicking up their heels and Chinamen walking through the front door? You know, when you giggle, you leak piss.
- Poor fucking man.
- Let me see your arm.
It's fine, Doc, it's better.
Quit acting like a goddamn fool and sit down.
Get the fuck away from him! Shut that fucking piano down! Hey, big time, fuck 'em or get the fuck out! Did we not come to an understanding? In what connection, sir? In the connection of you staying the fuck out of here.
I don't recall that, sir.
- Do you wish me to leave? - Yeah, I wish you to fucking leave.
Write yourself a note and hang it over your one good fucking eye: - "Stay out of Al Swearengen's joint.
" - All right, sir.
"Stay the fuck out of The Gem, whatever my fucking problem is," hmm? I was drawn to the music.
The piano relieves my headache.
Listen to a piano where you don't make a fucking ass out of yourself, huh? - Do you know where I might find one? - No! Help him the fuck out, huh? Come on.
What the fuck was that? He's having changes in his brain.
I hope to Christ he's having changes.
I'd hate to think of him conducting performances like that of secret evenings in the forest and the like.
I'm certain now it's a tumor.
- That caused the fits too, huh? - Yes.
You notice now too he's staring cockeyed? He was in here not two hours ago.
Don't fucking remember.
- Nothing to be done, huh? - No.
He ain't coming back in my joint.
He's a man of the cloth in case he forgets.
Kicking up his legs like a four-bit strumpet.
How's Trixie's spirits seem to you, huh? - Her abscess seems fine.
- That ain't what I asked! And I don't answer for the state of people's spirits.
Come on! Buy a drink! Get your pricks sucked! Spend some fucking money, huh?! It ain't circumstance.
It's my own fucking mettlesome nature.
- Far as what? - What I've done, Sol.
And you have to admire me for it.
It's moved 300 miles to set the damn situation up I left Montana to get away from.
Drawing up proposals for refuse disposal.
Unsolicited.
Insulted Hostetler out of my own fucking irritability.
I believe Hostetler's had worse afternoons.
Wife and child I barely know.
I don't guess you need me to say it.
If there's a heaven, your brother sees what you did and he's grateful.
Maybe he sees me borrowing his life so I didn't have to live my own.
People have made good lives out of borrowed ones before.
But she is a beautiful woman.
Them stuffed envelopes for those cunts at the legislature, past smoothing the road for the camp's annexation, they were supposed to clear up a personal situation.
But that letter you bore from the magistrate explained my situation would need additional envelopes.
Not my problem.
But you'd understand how a man would feel aggrieved, learning that he bribed a legislator to annex a camp, but hadn't got the sold-out cocksuckers to lift the murder warrant against him? How he'd feel that he spent a lot of time, and trouble and expense for the privilege of getting hanged? Not so far I'd excuse him motherfucking me that only bore the message.
No.
I'm here to take your message back to the magistrate.
Who I'd be surprised is a lying, thieving double-crossing cocksucker only in his dealings with me.
Yeah.
- Magistrate Clagett is a cocksucker.
- And? Make your offer.
How can you prove you're not here to catch me in a switch? I'm not here to prove shit to you.
Does it matter to you the cocksucker the warrant's out on me for killing needed murdering every fucking day he drew breath? - No.
- Good.
Gotta go to the bathhouse.
You want to accompany me? No one's looking to fuck you up the ass.
I gotta execute someone.
Here's the situation: Two dope-fiends rob and murder an opium courier.
Dope-fiends are white, opium courier's a Chink.
So far, who cares? The Chink who paid for the delivery is a boss amongst his own, goes berserk.
Matter of indifference still, huh? Some of the dope should have been delivered by the boss Chink to a pillar of the white community, a wonderful man.
One of the dope-fiends works for him.
The other one works for a clever cocksucker who could be considered his rival, and who is watching us from his balcony even as we speak.
Thank you for not looking.
The boss Chink wants to feed both the dope-fiends to his pigs.
No.
Would you give him one? Is the boss Chink the only source of opium in the camp? Yup.
Any other business connections with the white pillar? Several.
I'd give him one.
Let the dope-fiends draw fucking straws.
Clever cocksucker won't consent to that.
Don't want his man in a lottery that could deliver him to a Chink.
Is the clever cocksucker spoiling for a fight? Al.
What you asked for earlier I suspect that's who it's intended for.
Smart thinking.
This is Lilah.
Say hello to the fellas, Lilah.
Hello, fellas.
Speaks, too.
Be a big earner for you, Cy.
- Maybe he is spoiling for a fight.
- Felt that way to me.
No one asked you how it felt.
My money'd be on him trying to put the Chink boss in the wrong in the eyes of the camp.
Anyways, thank God I don't have to rely on you to formulate my plan of action.
You with me? Yeah, I'm with you.
Mr.
Swearengen.
Al, we are good and fucked up.
We are fucked up, Mr.
Swearengen.
- What have we been saying repeatedly? - Al's a good guy.
That you'd fucking allow us our works here and us periodically fixing the entire time we're in the fucking tub, after how we inconvenienced you and fucked you up.
Fucked up our own fucking lives from the time I was a fucking child.
Al.
Thank you, Mr.
Swearengen, and you are a good guy.
Thank you, Al.
One of you is gonna have to apologize to Wu.
- Apologize? - I'll apologize.
Bring that slant-eyed bastard over here.
He can get in the fucking tub with me.
I'll apologize and then I'll kiss him.
And then I'll tie him off and I'll shoot him up and then I'll blow him with fucking soap.
We're gonna draw straws to see who goes over to see Wu.
We go there? I withdraw my volunteer.
I am comfortable where I am.
You're gonna pick a straw, Jimmy.
Well, when you say apologize, sir, could you be specific what's gonna happen? Short straw apologizes.
But then what the fuck is Wu gonna do? I worked it out with Wu.
You don't think I'd be here unless I'd worked it out with Wu.
So an apology's gonna be enough? We happen to be fucking white.
In case you hadn't noticed, he happens to be a fucking slant-eyed fucking celestial.
He's lucky to get a fucking apology.
He's lucky we're willing to do even that.
- Well, why do I gotta pick? - I'll pick.
I don't fucking mind.
Don't be fucking afraid.
You be afraid your whole life of every fucking thing.
You want me to pick, Al? I'll pick.
And then I'll blow myself with fucking soap.
Pick, Jimmy.
Show me.
Uh, would you show me the straws, please, sir? So I know one's long and one's short.
Pick.
Can I get off again first? Is that the short one or the long one? Do not throw up.
I don't want to smell your stink! - Reverend Smith.
- Evening, sir.
- Evening.
- Reverend.
I watched goods in the tent this uh, this structure replaced while Messieurs Bullock and Star first took in the camp.
You sure did.
What can we do for you, Reverend? I'm in a quandary, gentlemen.
Are you Messieurs Bullock and Star? In the flesh.
You are the absolute images of them, gentlemen.
But what makes me afraid is I do not recognize you as my friends.
And naturally, I am afraid.
What are you afraid of, sir? I don't know what's happening to me.
I have various ailments, and I suppose this is a further ailment, but of what sort, I don't know.
And I'm afraid if you are devils, which I don't believe you are, because you were the kindest men of all in the camp to me but if you were devils, I suppose that that would be the type of shape you would take, and and if you are not devils, l then I am I am simply losing my mind.
And with my other ailments, I am concerned and afraid.
All right, Reverend.
We're the people you met the night you watched our goods.
I'm from Etobicoke, Ontario.
I'm from Vienna, Austria.
Wonderful.
You're here with friends.
Yes, yes, I feel that now.
And I have various ailments of which we all suffer.
And next morning often finds us feeling better.
Yes.
In any case, part of God's plan.
May we walk you back to your tent, sir? An evening stroll with friends.
I would so enjoy that.
Let's go then.
Mr.
Swearengen's saloon has a new piano.
You tell your boss.
Tell him what you saw here, huh? I saw a fair procedure.
I saw a fair procedure, Al, to tell Mr.
Tolliver.
Oh God! Do not fucking call me Al.
I guess Tolliver achieved his purpose standing on that balcony.
- Why'd you kill your own guy? - Why? You give Tolliver's dope-fiend to the boss Chink instead of your own guy, gives Tolliver the opening to make the boss Chink look wrong in the eyes of the whites.
And he can go to war with me and make me out a Chink lover.
What if my guy had drawn the long straw? I guess he'd have been shit out of luck.
Mr.
Adams, don't think there was a long straw.
Mr.
Adams, Mr.
Dority.
- Silas.
- Dan.
Silas, lift your lid.
Yeah.
Get a fucking haircut.
Looks like your mother fucked a monkey.
Wu, here's that cocksucker to apologize.
Say you're sorry, Jimmy.
Swe'gen.
Yeah.
Swe'gen hopes we ain't signed ourselves up for killing too.
d And the hog of the forsaken d d Got no reason to cry d d He got to chew the angels fallen from up high d d He ain't waitin' for no answer d d Bakin' woeful pie d d Pie of eyesight, pie blue black d d Whoa that pie, the pie of by and by d d And the hog of the forsaken d d Well, he ain't like you and I d d With bones always breakin' and no place to go lie d d He sit in the box so dark and wet d d He got so much time d d He ain't even worried yet d d The hog of the forsaken d d He is the pork of crime.
d