Deadwood

Seth Bullock:
Any more gunplay gets answered. You call the law in Sampson, you don't get to call it off just cause you're liquored up and popular on payday.

E.B. Farnum:
Separate rooms, I'll arrange that by tomorrow, but today I can't fix it, unless you kill a guest.

Al Swearengen:
God rest the souls of that poor family... and p*ssy's half price for the next 15 minutes.

Calamity Jane:
You with that ugly f*** by your own free will, Doc?

Doc Cochran:
Yes, yes I am. I'd rather be lucky than smart.

Al Swearengen:
Wild Bill Hickok and those two guys that walked past you downstairs save the squarehead kid; tell Ned to stick around so they see what the kid has to say about him.

Persimon Phil:
Wild Bill Hickok?

Al Swearengen:
And Ned throws down...

Persimon Phil:
Against Wild Bill Hickok?

Al Swearengen:
Against Hickok and this other cocksucker who draws almost as fast, so it's a toss-up who blew Ned's head off.

Al Swearengen:
They butt into other people's business; and make the business of other's their own - these bought-out, no good cocksuckers.

Tom Mason:
Hickok, you talkin' bout?

Al Swearengen:
Oh, f***in' big shot he is.

Persimon Phil:
Big f***in' shot, when he's standing in front of you.

Al Swearengen:
One in his ear from behind, I'd like to see how f***ing tough he was.

Al Swearengen:
You want a blow job while I talk to you?

Judge:
No.

Al Swearengen:
I wasn't offering personally.

E.B. Farnum:
Hickok's half-women friend's off somewheres on a tear. The orphan square head's in the widow's care. The widow feels put upon. She's asked me to find her some help. I suggested the gimp.

Calamity Jane:
I'm drunk. Correct. What the f*** is it to you?

[Jack has just been found not-guilty of killing Wild Bill Hickock]

Al Swearengen:
What's your name, it's Jack, ain't it?

Jack McCall:
Yes, sir! You buy me a drink, I'll make my mark.

Al Swearengen:
Stick around camp, Jack- I'll make mine for you.

Jack McCall:
What in the hell is that supposed to mean?

Al Swearengen:
Means there's a horse waiting for you outside you'll want to get on before somebody murders you who gives a f*** about right and wrong- or I do. [Jack stares, dumbfounded] It's the paint, Jack. Right outside my joint. [whispering] Run for your f***ing life.

Al Swearengen:
Pain or damage don't end the world. Or despair or f***ing beatings. The world ends when you're dead. Until then, you got more punishment in store. Stand it like a man... and give some back.

Trixie:
Tread lightly who lives in hope of p*ssy.

Hugo Jarry:
And you, Mr. Wolcott, I find you the most severe disappointment of all.

Francis Wolcott:
Often to myself, as well.

Al Swearengen:
Don't forget to kill Tim.

Tom Nuttall:
My bicycle masters boardwalk and quagmire with aplomb. Those that doubt me... suck cock by choice.

Seth Bullock:
[demanding conditions on buying the lot] 1,000, now. If anyone in that tent, or the building we put up, turns a playing card or pours a drink or offers a woman's services, you get the title back and keep our f***in' money.

Al Swearengen:
What makes you talk to me in that tone of voice?

Seth Bullock:
I'm makin' a counter offer.

Al Swearengen:
You come into camp, rent my lot, within six hours you blow in a guy's eye with Wild Bill Hickok backin' your play. Next day, I'm supposed to sell you the lot, put you in business, without askin' who the f*** you are or what the f*** you're doin' here?

Seth Bullock:
As far as what happened in the street, with Bill Hickok bein' involved, that was a turn of events.

Al Swearengen:
A what?

Seth Bullock:
It was a turn... of events.

Al Swearengen:
Oh, a turn of events. Your partner calls it a coincidence. So, what with this coincidence and turn of events starin' me in the f***in' face and five other f***in' things I'm supposed to be payin' attention to, I still make you a sensible proposal and you answer by insulting me in my own joint.

Sol Star:
Seth didn't mean to insult you, Mr. Swearengen.

Al Swearengen:
You stay out of this! You don't know nothin' about this! You weren't here and you don't have his proxy, so why don't you do whatever you people do when you're not running your mouths off or cheatin' people out of what they earn by Christian work.

Seth Bullock:
You don't want to be talkin' that way!

Al Swearengen:
Oh, don't tell me how to talk in my own f***in' place! Now, here's my counter offer to your counter offer - go *f**** yourself!

Sol Star:
Seth...

Al Swearengen:
Get him... away from me!

Jack McCall:
Should we shake hands or something, relieve the atmosphere? I mean how stupid do you think I am?

Wild Bill Hickok:
I don't know. I just met you.

Wild Bill Hickok:
You know the sound of thunder, Mrs. Garret?

Alma Garret:
Of course.

Wild Bill Hickok:
Can you imagine that sound if I asked you to?

Alma Garret:
Yes, I can, Mr. Hickok.

Wild Bill Hickok:
Your husband and me had this talk, and I told him to head home to avoid a dark result. But I didn't say it in thunder. Ma'am, listen to the thunder.

Al Swearengen:
Sometimes I wish we could just hit 'em over the head, rob 'em, and throw their bodies in the creek.

Cy Tolliver:
But that would be wrong.

Miles Anderson:
God bless you, Mr. Swearengen.

Al Swearengen:
Well, not likely. But my prospects have just improved.

Reverend H.W. Smith:
Lord, grant that I may seek rather to comfort than to be comforted, to understand, than to be understood, to love, than to be loved... and the rest I forget.

Calamity Jane:
[about Wild Bill] I won't be a drunk where he's buried, and I can't stay sober.

Wild Bill Hickok:
[on his nickname for Seth] "Montana" OK with you?

Seth Bullock:
Only nickname I ever had was "Sloth."

Wild Bill Hickok:
Don't seem to fit ya.

Al Swearengen:
Welcome to f***ing Deadwood!

Al Swearengen:
Wave a penny under the Jew's nose; if they got living breath in them, brings them right around.

Al Swearengen:
[to Seth Bullock] You would not want to be staring like that at me.

Reverend H.W. Smith:
This is God's purpose, but not knowing the purpose is my portion of suffering.

Doc Cochran:
If this is His will, He is a son of a b*tch.

Cy Tolliver:
Sayin' questions in that tone and pointin' your finger at me will get you told to f*** yourself.

Reverend H.W. Smith:
When I read the Scriptures, I do not feel Christ's love as I used to.

Calamity Jane:
Aw, is that so? That is too bad! Join the f***in' club of most of us!

Al Swearengen:
Be in my joint in two hours, we're forming a f***in' government.

Al Swearengen:
If I bleat when I speak it's because I just got f***in' fleeced.

E.B. Farnum:
Lying? I?

Al Swearengen:
What was your purpose at Doc's?

Jewel:
I'm knocked up!

E.B. Farnum:
God damned quagmire of piss and bull sh*t!

E.B. Farnum:
Be brief.

Calamity Jane:
Be f***ed!

Al Swearengen:
In life you have to do a lot of things you don't f***ing want to do. Many times, that's what the f*** life is... one vile f***ing task after another.

Wild Bill Hickok:
Some goddamn point a man's due to stop arguing with his-self and feeling twice the goddamn fool he knows he is 'cause he can't be something he tries to be every goddamn day without once getting to dinnertime and f***ing it up. I don't want to fight it anymore, understand me Charlie? And I don't want you pissing in my ear about it. Can you let me go to hell the way I want to?

Joanie Stubbs:
Will you keep a girl company?

Ellsworth:
I will, but I'm expensive.

Ellsworth:
Well'm, I've got myself a working gold claim.

Joanie Stubbs:
Well, sir, is that a damn fact?

Ellsworth:
A hell of a working gold claim, and if we knew each other better I'd throw "f***ing" in there somewhere.

Joanie Stubbs:
If you did I'd try to catch it.

Ellsworth:
A working f***ing gold claim, Joanie, and thank you for allowing me my full range of expression.

Al Swearengen:
My oath on this; everyday that the widow sits on her ass in New York City, looks west at sunset, and thinks to herself "God bless you ignorant cocksuckers in Deadwood who strive mightily and have little money, to add to my ever increasing fortune," she'll be safe from the whiles of Al Swearengen.

Sol Star:
Dulled faculties!

Trixie:
I spoke of looking out for an axe and a saw, and if I got 'em, they wouldn't be applied to buildin' nothin'. Anyways, would you want a free f***?

Al Swearengen:
I want to know who cut the f***ing cheese.

Calamity Jane:
Maybe I will have a f***in' drink, for sociability's sake and 'cause I'm a f***in' drunk.

Joanie Stubbs:
What's your preference?

Calamity Jane:
That it ain't been previously swallowed.

[Mose Manuel demands refund for his spending at the Bella Union]

Francis Wolcott:
Including youth, Mr. Manuel? And why not beauty? Not credibly restored, perhaps, but as a new non-negotiable term? Would you not have, too, your brother Charlie resurrected? Would you stipulate your envy of him being purged? Surely, you insist that Charlie retain certain defects - his ineffable self-deceptions, for example, which were your joy in life to rebuke, and purpose, so far as you had one. I suppose you would see removed those qualities which caused you to love him, and the obliviousness to danger which allowed you to shed his blood.

Francis Wolcott:
[Mose draws his gun and is shot by Bella Union guards] I want to talk to Bullock.

Cy Tolliver:
Get the f***ing doc! I could have cooled that out.

Francis Wolcott:
On my order, Mr. Tolliver, Lee will burn this building, mutilating you before, during or after, as I specify, or when he chooses unless I forbid.

Cy Tolliver:
Oh, my full attention is at your disposal.

Seth Bullock:
There's a blood stain on your floor.

Al Swearengen:
Yeah, I'm... I'm gonna get to that.

E.B. Farnum:
Some ancient Italian maxim fits our situation, whose particulars escape me.

Francis Wolcott:
Is the gist that I'm sh*t out of luck?

E.B. Farnum:
Did they speak that way then?

Francis Wolcott:
I am a sinner that does not expect forgiveness. But I am not a government official.

Al Swearengen:
Don't f***ing call me Al!

Wild Bill Hickok:
Sure you wanna quit playing, Jack? The game's always between you and getting called a c*nt.

Tom Nuttall:
Meeting adjourned, fellas, take it outside.

Wild Bill Hickok:
That dropped eye of yours looks like the hood on a c*nt to me, Jack. When you talk, your mouth looks like a c*nt moving.

Jack McCall:
I ain't gonna get in no gun fight with you, Hickok.

Wild Bill Hickok:
But you will run your c*nt mouth at me. And I will take it, to play poker.

Doc Cochran:
When you giggle you leak piss.

Calamity Jane:
Them what gets cured by Calamity Jane STAYS f***in' cured.

Al Swearengen:
How's that p*ssy-lotion? Should I try some on my ass?

Al Swearengen:
Underarms clean? C*nts braided?

Cy Tolliver:
You're tough to be a friend to.

Francis Wolcott:
You make a good point.

E.B. Farnum:
[Pacing, practicing his reply to Mrs. Garrett's offer of purchasing his hotel] Madam, in the chambers of my heart beats a love for every crooked timber of this shitbox of a structure, this building. This building, its warped floorboards and...

Richardson:
[drops dishes in the background] Fie!

E.B. Farnum:
Why, even in Richardson, my chef, my eyes see a beloved household pet somehow walking upright - see in Richardson a half-witted child, nonetheless adored.

Cy Tolliver:
Cy Tolliver, Mr. Wolcott, how do you do? And, what do you drink?

Francis Wolcott:
Kentucky bourbon, if you've got it.

Cy Tolliver:
Pour Mr. Wolcott a bourbon, Jack, and tell him it's from Kentucky.

Al Swearengen:
Announcin' your plans is a good way to hear god laugh.

Al Swearengen:
[while having his prick sucked] Wo-wo-wo-woah, you got a stage to catch or somethin'? Slow... the f***... up.

Al Swearengen:
[to Cy Tolliver] You do no wanna be a dirt-worshipping heathen from this f***ing point forward, [to Joannie Stubbs] pardon my French.

Joanie Stubbs:
Oh, I speak French.

Mr. Wu:
San Francisco Cocksucker!

Al Swearengen:
What are you doing here?

Richardson:
Too afraid.

Al Swearengen:
If you were too afraid, you wouldn't be here.

Richardson:
Too afraid to explain.

Johnny Burns:
He's got a note pinned on him, Al.

Al Swearengen:
Take it off him. Then stick him in the eye with the f***ing pin.

Johnny Burns:
He don't mean it.

Al Swearengen:
Tell him "Nothing".

Richardson:
I'll just keep quiet.

Al Swearengen:
No. Tell E.B., "Nothing's going on." And then tell him, "If I wanted to tell you anything, I'd have told you. Don't send the imbecile over with no more notes."

Richardson:
I can't remember all that!

Al Swearengen:
Can you remember "Nothing's going on"?

Richardson:
Yes.

Al Swearengen:
Tell him that, then.

Richardson:
Thank you.

Johnny Burns:
Either Al got God, or Dolly just stuck her thumb back up his ass.

Al Swearengen:
[Dolly sticks her thumb in Al's ass] Oh! Now, I'm halfway thinking this exaggerates the condition rather than alleviates it. If I might should query the Doc, but then that cocksucker will only ask after gleets. [Al gasps] Oh my God. [Al tries to move away, but Dolly scoots after him and keeps her thumb in his ass] Take it out. Take it out. Remove your f***ing thumb. [Dolly finally removes her thumb] Why, if I was moving forward to get away from you, would you have f***ing pursued me? When I stopped, pressed on yourself to drive your thumb into my intestine?

Al Swearengen:
The entire area of my f***ing a**hole is now one gigantic f***ing throb. I have no idea what's transpiring in there.

Dolly:
Shall I suck your prick?

Al Swearengen:
Please.

Tom Nuttall:
Oh, he just twelve-pointed Slippery Dan.

[while working late at night in his cabin, Doc Cochran hears a thud, followed by Calamity Jane yelling at the passersby]

Calamity Jane:
OW! Keep your f***in' distance! Remain on your side of the street! Do not interfere with me in any way! Chinese cocksuckers! Ugh, Jesus... [Cochran comes out of his cabin to find a drunken Jane lying in the mud next to her horse, her foot tangled in the stirrup]

Doc Cochran:
Well, you are an entangled inebriate, are you not?

Calamity Jane:
[slurring her words] This happens to be a rig and contraption of my own devising against repeated accidental falls that has temporarily malfunctioned.

Doc Cochran:
Very well knotted. [he begins untying her]

Calamity Jane:
I'm back in camp, Cochran, 'cause I'm dyin', and I need a place to breathe my f***in' last. And not for no human aid or consolation. [Cochran struggles to untie the knot] Jesus Christ, you're bad with your hands! If I wasn't practically f***in' dead, I'd reach that knife and cut myself free. [she grunts slightly] Yeah, I just farted, so what? [Cochran pulls the aforementioned knife out of a saddlebag] Hey, hey hey! [she grabs the knife out of his hands] Don't you disarm me, you cocksucker! Lift me up so I can cut myself free! [he gets behind Jane to pull her up by the armpits]

Doc Cochran:
All right, ready? [he lifts her up, and Jane cuts the rope that held her in place] All right now, get under here. [he lifts Jane to her feet by her armpits as she groans drunkenly] Step inside and let me examine you. Even if you are past help, enhancing my understanding may allow others to benefit from your mortal illness.

Calamity Jane:
Do you mock me, cocksucker?

Doc Cochran:
No. Come on inside. [Jane nods] All right. There we go. [he throws Jane's arm over his shoulder and walks her to the door]

Calamity Jane:
[slurring her words again] Promise when I'm dead, you'll plant me with a view of where Bill is.

Calamity Jane:
I have been recently engaged in complicated negotiations with n*ggers, who equal any other creature walking upright at being able to f*** themselves up!

E.B. Farnum:
Hearst... is he Caesar? To have fights to the death for diversion, murder his workers at whim, smash passages in the f***ing wall? A man of less wealth would be in f***ing restraints!

Al Swearengen:
We are in the presence of the new.

E.B. Farnum:
F*** the f***ing new! Jesus Christ, Al... is it over for us here?

Al Swearengen:
Go back to the hotel, E.B.

E.B. Farnum:
Save us. Think of something!

Al Swearengen:
Have I ever not?

Calamity Jane:
I'll see to the buryin' [of Hostetler] with you. I owe a visit up there anyways.

Samuel Fields:
That ain't gonna raise your popularity with your fellow white people.

Calamity Jane:
Question I wake to in the morning and pass out with at night: "What's my popularity with my fellow white people?"

George Hearst:
[to Cy Tolliver] The Sheriff recently put me on notice. He is vigilant of my possible transgressions.

Seth Bullock:
You sound drunk to me.

George Hearst:
Whom are you addressing?

Seth Bullock:
You. You sound drunk.

George Hearst:
Do I?

[Seth nods]

George Hearst:
Hmm. When I say, "Go f*** yourself, Sheriff," will you put that down to drunkenness or a high estimate of your athleticism?

Seth Bullock:
Did you just tell me, "F*** myself"?

George Hearst:
I think I did. And to shut up, or I will quiet you myself.

Seth Bullock:
You're under arrest.

George Hearst:
F*** you! And shut up, or I will shut you up for good.

[Seth draws his gun on Hearst]

Seth Bullock:
For threatening a Peace Officer, I'm taking you into custody.

Cy Tolliver:
Don't be stupid, Bullock...

Seth Bullock:
Don't YOU be f***ing stupid.

[Seth grabs Hearst by the ear and begins to drag him out of the Bella Union. Through clenched teeth, Seth snarls at Hearst... ]

Seth Bullock:
F***... you.

Dan Dority:
What is there to consider over, Al? That sea-creature Turner called me out!

Johnny Burns:
I wish you'd look in on Dan, Boss, not for being poorly as down.

Al Swearengen:
Johnny, some sh*t's best walked through alone.

Johnny Burns:
Dan's killed people before. You have too, but neither've been solitary after.

Al Swearengen:
A fair fight, something Dan and I have always struggled to avoid, is different. You see the light go out of their eyes. It's just you left and Death.

Hugo Jarry:
Self-interest is immutable, but its dictates vary daily.

Charlie Utter:
How did the two of you get along?

Calamity Jane:
Did I just f***ing say I was moving in there?

Charlie Utter:
Which being it's a f***ing whorehouse could indicate some f***ing business arrangement or some other f***ing thing.

Calamity Jane:
Yeah, I'm gonna be Queen Hooker. You're a keen f***ing student of the human scene, Charlie!

Charlie Utter:
I'd best go, lest Mr. Amalgamation and capital takes one through the f***ing head.

Seth Bullock:
What's the import of that expression?

Charlie Utter:
Do I look like I f***in' know? Some big-shot eastern magazine reporter interviewin' Bill said that was what's changing things around.

Calamity Jane:
And you not only a f***ing pain in the balls, Charlie, but also the strangest f***ing person I ever met.

Charlie Utter:
[about Jack Langrishe] There... is a strange f***in' bird.

Doc Cochran:
I'm guessin' that your bottom rib is cracked, and this contusion at your belly'll show the colors of the rainbow before it's through with ya.

A. W. Merrick:
Apparently, my expiration is not imminent.

Doc Cochran:
Of course, I'm wrong as much as I am right...

A. W. Merrick:
Have I bled on your bed linens, Al?

Al Swearengen:
You wouldn't be the first.

Calamity Jane:
Get out of my f***in' light!

Mose Manuel:
It's me.

Calamity Jane:
Who's me, the f***in' eclipse?

Mose Manuel:
Mose Manuel.

Calamity Jane:
Oh really? I thought it was Giganto, the runaway circus elephant.

Mose Manuel:
Ms. Stubbs' been lookin' for you. Those kids need chaperonin' to the new schoolhouse, Jane!

Calamity Jane:
[covering her ears with liquor bottles] I cannot hear you, nor can I see you, any longer.

Mose Manuel:
[grabs her roughly and turns her over] You f***in' drunken slob!

[Jane screams, and Mose loosens his grip]

Mose Manuel:
Get up and walk them kids.

Calamity Jane:
Okay Giganto! Don't tusk me to death with your tusks. How long do I have to assemble myself?

Mose Manuel:
They'll be ready to go in a few minutes.

Calamity Jane:
Shut up!

[Sheriff Bullock has imprisoned one of the Pinkertons. Johnny knocks on the door of Utter Freight, apparently to summon Bullock to a meeting with Al]

Johnny Burns:
Sheriff?

Seth Bullock:
Tell him I ain't comin' for his lecture. Tell him I don't need it. Tell him if my temper was gonna get the best of me, this cocksucker's brains'd be on the floor. Tell him I've got it, alright? Tell him I'm on top of it.

[Johnny nods and leaves]

Silas Adams:
The top of my to-do list every morning, and every day gets away from me.

Cy Tolliver:
Anyways, here you are.

Silas Adams:
Here I am. Al's delegate, as far as him and you deal with Mr. Hearst.

Cy Tolliver:
Will you still if invited to sit or will it take me offering a meal?

Silas Adams:
I'd sooner not sit, sir, and already et. Only asking, ought I bear a message to Al?

Cy Tolliver:
Nothing comes to mind.

Silas Adams:
Horsemen come to camp by torchlight last night.

Cy Tolliver:
Tell Al as we didn't wake to the apocalypse, I suppose all we need fear is their Winchesters.

John Langrishe:
The blessed Miss Stubbs, whose bust is so very prominent in the mind's pantheon of the camp.

Joanie Stubbs:
Some not 50 yards from us will put these of mine to shame.

Al Swearengen:
Check out that sow Tina, Doc, when the opportunity presents. That ain't the whiff of roses when she passes.

E.B. Farnum:
Allow me a moment's silence Mr Hearst, sir, I'm having a digestive crisis and must focus on repressing it's expression.

Seth Bullock:
You and I know how it is, Mr. Swearingen.

Al Swearengen:
How what is?

Seth Bullock:
[stands] She gets a square shake... or I come for you.

Al Swearengen:
[stands] What if I come for you? You ready for that?

Seth Bullock:
I guess I'd better be.

Al Swearengen:
Then close your f***in' store, 'cause being ready for me'll take care of your wakin' hours, and you'd better have someone to hand the task off to when you close your f***in' eyes.

[they silently take each other's measure]

Seth Bullock:
We understand each other.

Joanie Stubbs:
Do you really think you're going to get out of here alive?

Flora Anderson:
I'm gonna give it a god damn whirl!

[last lines]

Calamity Jane:
Did you just kill that girl in the Chez Amis?

Francis Wolcott:
I did not. That girl in the Chez Amis is well.

Calamity Jane:
So whose blood's on your own f***ing mug?

Francis Wolcott:
My own. My name is Francis Wolcott. If you find me untrue in any particular, I stay at the Grand Central Hotel.

Calamity Jane:
Who runs that joint?

Francis Wolcott:
A grotesque named Farnum.

Calamity Jane:
You ain't lied, so far.

Doc Cochran:
I would see to those others pro bono.

Cy Tolliver:
I know what that means. Prove to me you do.

Calamity Jane:
Maybe I will have a f***in' drink, just for sociability's sake, and 'cause I'm a f***in' drunk.

Joanie Stubbs:
Well, what's Your preference?

Calamity Jane:
That it ain't been previously swallowed.

Sol Star:
Hello, there.

Trixie:
$127.49, both columns seperate verified.

Sol Star:
Lying with aplomb, you've got the true calling.

Trixie:
What you heard otherwise is none of your business. [Trixie takes off her clothes]

Sol Star:
I didn't hear anything else. [Trixie and Sol kiss]

Trixie:
Let me work on your column now.

Hugo Jarry:
Will you two be quiet?

Calamity Jane:
Not only will we not be quiet, you frog-faced f***. I'm gonna take this stick, and drag it back and forth across the bars of your cell. [Jane gets up and does so]

Hugo Jarry:
I am not a prisoner. I am in protective custody.

Calamity Jane:
In care of a deputy deputized by the deputy sheriff, who orders you to shut the f*** up! [Jane hits the cell with the stick]

Hugo Jarry:
I'm thirsty.

Calamity Jane:
Lie on your back, take aim and piss.

Ellsworth:
I may have f***ed up my life flatter'n hammered sh*t, but I stand here before you today beholden to no human cocksucker, and holdin' a workin' f***in' gold claim, and not the U.S. government tellin' me I'm trespassin', or the savage f***in' red man or any of these other limber-dick cocksuckers passin' themselves off as prospectors had better try and stop me.

Ellsworth:
Goddammit, Swearengen, I don't trust you as far as I could th'ow you, but I enjoy the way you lie.

Ellsworth:
Made my quota for whisky, p*ssy, and food. Further efforts'll only benefit the faro dealers.

Calamity Jane:
I don't drink where I'm the only f***in' one with balls.

Wild Bill Hickok:
Does 'bosom' mean 'tit'?

Poker Player - at No. 10:
Same thing.

Jack McCall:
Should we shake hands or something, relieve the atmosphere? I mean, how stupid do you think I am?

Wild Bill Hickok:
I don't know, I just met you.

Doc Cochran:
I see as much misery outta them movin' to justify theirselves as them that set out to do harm.

Calamity Jane:
There's someone I need to go kill.

Charlie Utter:
Wha? Who?

Calamity Jane:
You are not my target, but keep bothering me and I'll add you to the list.

Al Swearengen:
[to Bullock] Here's my counteroffer to your counteroffer: go f*** yourself!

Al Swearengen:
What's your partner so mad about all the time?

Sol Star:
He's not mad.

Al Swearengen:
He's got a mean way of being happy.

Al Swearengen:
Pain or damage don't end the world. Or despair, or f***ing beatings. The world ends when you're dead. Until then, you got more punishment in store. Stand it like a man... and give some back.

E.B. Farnum:
The bald contempt of it. Why not come out five abreast, cavorting and taunting - "E.B. was left out. E.B. was left out." Cocksuckers. C*nt-lickers. I'll make you filthy gestures. Public service was never my primary career.

Cy Tolliver:
You are tough to be a friend to.

E.B. Farnum:
And if she pries and pokes and prods me to elicit your intentions?

Al Swearengen:
Tell her I wouldn't say.

E.B. Farnum:
And if she asks me why you wouldn't?

Al Swearengen:
Say you're a pain in my balls that can't desist from inquiry till told to shut his f***ing mouth and act on the task he was asked to f***ing do!

E.B. Farnum:
Yes sir. Fine, thank you.

Charlie Utter:
That's twice you've f***ing stared at me!

Francis Wolcott:
I feel you breathing on my neck.

Charlie Utter:
Should I exhale out my ass?

Francis Wolcott:
And I believe you're doing it intentionally.

Charlie Utter:
Why? You think I believe you're a f***ing c*nt?

Francis Wolcott:
If we fight, it won't be a casual matter.

Charlie Utter:
Oh, I see you've got your big f***ing knife there. And hid somewhere on your persons you've probably got some pussified shooting instrument. But I am good at first impressions, and you are a f***ing c*nt! And I doubt you've fought many men, maybe even one!

[Charlie grabs Wolcott and begins to beat him. ]

Charlie Utter:
Take a beating. And know how it f***ing feels to be helpless and have no one f***ing stick up for you!

Al Swearengen:
What do you know of the fisticuffs?

E.B. Farnum:
Amongst who?

Johnny Burns:
Utter and that fella you was sitting with downstairs the other day.

E.B. Farnum:
Wolcott? Just now, when I was leaving the hotel, Wolcitt had accidentally stepped on Utter's foot.

Johnny Burns:
If Utter's got corns, that might could have touched it off.

E.B. Farnum:
The bald contempt of it! Why not come out five abreast cavorting and taunting 'E.B. was left out! E.B. was left out!'? Cocksuckers! Cuntlickers! Make your filthy gestures. Public service was never my primary career... Two come this way!

E.B. Farnum:
I believe she's in. As is the child... which may confound his intention.

Al Swearengen:
[about Hearst] He must think I'm a f***ing dog, forgives the blow first friendly scratch at the ear.

Alma Garret:
What is Steve the Drunk's surname?

[Alma is called Mrs. Garret by a bank customer]

Alma Garret:
Since you can read, you may wish to examine my name plate.

Calamity Jane:
Where would the stage be?

Joanie Stubbs:
I dont know.

Calamity Jane:
Yeah I don't know either.

Seth Bullock:
I'm not a godamn errand boy. To mule this thing back and forth.

Trixie:
A lot of shitbags hang around the bank. You ever f***in notice.

Tom Nuttall:
Your plans are idiotic. You're running for Sheriff to be a fireman.

Al Swearengen:
Another f***in' invite. F***in' Hearst must take me for an optimist.

Dan Dority:
I'm gonna kill that cocksucker.

Al Swearengen:
All in good time.

Al Swearengen:
Tell me who you want in the election.

Dolly:
Star for Mayor and Harry Manning for Sheriff.

Al Swearengen:
Star for Mayor and Bullock for f***ing Sheriff.

Dolly:
Bullock yells at you.

Al Swearengen:
Get out. Shut up and get out.

E.B. Farnum:
Trailing clouds of glory.

Hotel Patron:
Do you read Wordsworth?

E.B. Farnum:
I do not, Madam, no. How do you come to ask?

Hotel Patron:
You've just quoted him.

E.B. Farnum:
Well, I have a digest from which I memorize, supressing the author's names. Enjoy your supper. [to himself] When will I raise courage to search that woman's room?

Seth Bullock:
Is that your goddamn idea of quick, Charlie?

Calamity Jane:
This succeeds, Bullock, what you're trying to work out here, I will doff hat to you and no f***ing mistake.

Charlie Utter:
Just don't let her take off her boots.

Al Swearengen:
F***in' cold in here anyway.

Dolly:
You want a blanket?

Al Swearengen:
If I do, I'll put it round me. You ain't the boss of the f***in' bedclothes.

E.B. Farnum:
What have the Gods decreed?

Al Swearengen:
Too fearful and upset to relive it, E.B.

Dan Dority:
You know you hurt my feelings.

Al Swearengen:
Dan.

Dan Dority:
That's the long and short of it, Al. You f***ing pick Adams to represent you, you hurt my feelings and that is the f***ing matter's end.

Al Swearengen:
It's not the f***ing hour. It's not the f***ing vantage of the chair. It's you, that's changed the level of you suction somehow. That's the f***ing sum and substance of it.

Dolly:
Maybe if I get on my knees?

Al Swearengen:
You're the cocksucker. Change the f***ing angle.

Calamity Jane:
Any f***ing domicile but the graveyard suits me fine. Don't you worry about me. I got things taken care of over here.

Joanie Stubbs:
I don't know either. But I do know you're welcome wherever I go.

Joanie Stubbs:
I wish once I could care for those little ones. Just once instead of doin' what I did.

Martha Bullock:
Please see that no harm comes to that horse.

Calamity Jane:
F***in' Steve. The exact type malicious cocksucker tars every f***in' drunk with his brush.

Al Swearengen:
I got a healthy operation here, and I didn't build it brooding on the right and wrong of things. And I do not need the Pinkertons descending like locusts.

Al Swearengen:
I need to f*** something! TRIXIE!

Al Swearengen:
Would you close your flap, that I don't forego my boiled eggs?

E.B. Farnum:
Could you have been born, Richardson? And not egg-hatched as I've always assumed? Did your mother hover over you, snaggle-toothed and doting as you now hover over me?

Richardson:
I loved my mother.

E.B. Farnum:
Puberty may bring you to understand, what we take for mother love is really murderous hatred and a desire for revenge.

Richardson:
Will you give your speech to be Mayor tonight?

E.B. Farnum:
Whatever night I give it, count on me not to mince words. 'Electors of the camp, as to who should serve as Mayor reasonable men may differ, but as to who should be Sheriff we all ought speak with one voice and our words should be turn out the maniac Bullock, who set upon the Mayor unprovoked, who beat him with merciless protraction. Bulllock should be murdered! We should rise up and murder Bullock! Thank you very much.'

Richardson:
My father didn't liked me.

E.B. Farnum:
I'd like to use your ointment to suffocate you.

E.B. Farnum:
Could you have been born, Richardson, and not egg-hatched as I've always assumed?

Trixie:
Mr. Star, my cherry is obstructing my work. Sir, would you take it from me, free?

Trixie:
Kiss my neck or tits if you have to kiss something.

Sol Star:
Let me kiss you.

Trixie:
Well, you're a goddamn Jew fool.

[Sol and Trixie kiss]

Al Swearengen:
Tom, nothing Stapleton's got on you can't be solved by Dan Dority.

Otis Russell:
If I've offended you, Mr. Bullock, I've accomplished the opposite of my intention, which would not be an unprecedented result.

Cy Tolliver:
Mr. Hearst brought the pros to town!

Calamity Jane:
[attempting to feed the injured Steve the drunk] Without a day's education, medical or otherwise, I vouchsafe this f***ing truth: Those as don't eat without exception fail to survive.

Al Swearengen:
You can't cut the throat of every cocksucker whose character it would improve.

E.B. Farnum:
August commencement to my administration, standing stymied outside a saloon next to a degenerate tit-licker.

E.B. Farnum:
[as he watches the "Tit Licker" leave the saloon] I begrudge that man his capacity for happiness. I do.

Sol Star:
I don't suppose you need me to say it. But if there's a Heaven, your brother sees what you did and he's grateful.

Seth Bullock:
Perhaps he sees me borrowing his life so that I didn't have to live my own.

Sol Star:
People have made good lives out of borrowed ones before.

Mr. Wu:
Bak Wai Lo Me... Cocksucka.

Al Swearengen:
Yeah, glad I taught you that f***in' word. These are whites, huh? [Swearengen gestures back and forth to Wu's drawing]

Mr. Wu:
HO! White COCKSUCKA! [Wu produces a bag]

Al Swearengen:
[Swearengen again motions back and forth to Wu and Wu's drawing] Two white cocksuckers killed him... and stole the dope he was bringin' to you!

Mr. Wu:
White Cocksucka... YOU! SWIDGEN!

Al Swearengen:
The dope you were gonna f***in' sell to me?

Mr. Wu:
White Cocksucka...

Al Swearengen:
These two white cocksuckers? Who the f*** did it?

Mr. Wu:
Wu...

Al Swearengen:
[Swearengen is completely exasperated] Who, you ignorant f***in' chink?

Mr. Wu:
WU?

Al Swearengen:
WHO? WHO? Who stole the f***in' dope?

Mr. Wu:
COCKSUCKA!

Al Swearengen:
Get a f***ing haircut. Looks like your mother f***ed a monkey.

Francis Wolcott:
This oatmeal looks old.

E.B. Farnum:
It does, doesn't it? Richardson, Goddamn you! The oatmeal is clotted.

Richardson:
Well, it's 45 minutes yet till the three hours.

E.B. Farnum:
Stop spouting gibberish and replace the damned oatmeal.

Al Swearengen:
We're forming a f***ing government.

A. W. Merrick:
Who is?

Al Swearengen:
Us! You and me! Come to me in a vision! Ya stupid bastard.

Johnny Burns:
Al, I have hoped for this conversation ever since you give me that Indian head to hide.

Joanie Stubbs:
Do you shoot craps?

Ellsworth:
No, I don't - but I'm a lethally quick study.

E.B. Farnum:
[muttering to himself] Al Swearingen's a cue and Farnum merely is a billiard ball.

Calamity Jane:
[of a passerby who eyed her] If I had that mug on me I believe I'd cut down on gettin' told how butt-f***ing ugly I was by not staring at f***ing strangers.

Charlie Utter:
[of his immediate predecessor in his hotel room] Fresh stain on the floor when I moved in. He may have checked out short a useful amount of blood.

Brom Garret:
Wouldn't surprise me in the least.

Charlie Utter:
That would make these accomplices you're talkin' about... dangerous people to deal with.

Brom Garret:
Yes, I quite take your point. No honor among thieves. [pause] Well. Thanks for your time: I'll pursue my remedies in some other fashion. [leaves]

Wild Bill Hickok:
I don't think he took your point... quite.

Charlie Utter:
I think he quite missed it.

Whitney Ellsworth:
[talking to a dog digging at the ground] He's down that hole for a fact. Pitiful as your pursued him... you better hope he ain't got space enough to roll around, hold his side, bust a gut laughing. Tell all the other woodchucks at the club this afternoon. He might not even call it an escape. Might just call it his morning's entertainment.

Al Swearengen:
You do not want to be a dirt-worshipping heathen from this f***ing point forward.

Al Swearengen:
[Turns to Joanie] Pardon my French.

Joanie Stubbs:
Oh, I speak French.

Al Swearengen:
How do I look?

Trixie:
Like Christ crucified!

Carrie:
Don't f***ing hit me, Francis.

Francis Wolcott:
Done. Agreed.

[Carrie begins to gyrate on top of Francis]

Carrie:
I will run away to the Indians.

Francis Wolcott:
You would change the course of history. Be the first of the women chiefs.

[Francis moans and closes his eyes]

Francis Wolcott:
Oh, I'm too quick.

Carrie:
You can't be too quick for me. [pause] You might try it sometimes with your prick on the outside of your pants.

Dan Dority:
F*** no, he can't talk! He just lays there and shivers, and stares at nothin'. Uh, he screams when Doc abuses him with them f***in' prick poles of his.

Maddie:
We don't get even. We get dead.

Seth Bullock:
I'll be the f***ing sheriff.

Al Swearengen:
Starting when?

Seth Bullock:
Starting now.

Al Swearengen:
You have the tin?

Seth Bullock:
I do.

Al Swearengen:
Produce it.

[Seth stands up, and pulls out the badge]

Al Swearengen:
On the tit.

Seth Bullock:
I know where it goes.

[Jewel and Doc are dancing together]

Jewel:
Say 'I'm as nimble as a forest creature.'

Doc Cochran:
You're as nimble as a forest creature.

Jewel:
No, say it about yourself.

Doc Cochran:
I'm as nimble as a forest creature.

Al Swearengen:
Announcing your plans is a good way to hear God laugh.

Sol Star:
I'm sensing you've done things today you wish you could amend, Seth.

Seth Bullock:
What kind of man have I become, Sol?

Sol Star:
I don't know. The day ain't f***ing over.

Al Swearengen:
[after Doc Cochran walks into Al's office without knocking] Walk in unannounced is a good way to get yourself killed, Doc, especially as the cavalry has us besieged.

Doc Cochran:
I'm here about the minister. He's over at my place, past my art if I had any. He's damn near blind, mostly paralyzed. Past controlling his functions.

Al Swearengen:
Well, you're preachin' to the f***in' converted. Me, I would've seen to him, but... I've been f***in' busy.

Doc Cochran:
Well, he doesn't wanna be seen to like that.

Al Swearengen:
What the f*** are we talkin' about?

Doc Cochran:
A man being cared for and made comfortable 'til he expires. Girls you put to the task, deduct your time from my pay.

Al Swearengen:
I get the bag of sh*t.

Doc Cochran:
You get to care for a human being in his last extremity.

Al Swearengen:
A human being in his last extremity IS a bag of sh*t.

Doc Cochran:
[suddenly furious] AW, F*** YOU, AL! [Al turns and stares at Cochran in surprise]

Al Swearengen:
I'll send someone over to pick him up.

Seth Bullock:
[after beating Alma's father] Leave this camp. And draw a map for anyone who wants to believe your f***ing lies. Anyone wants to put your daughter or her holdings in jeopardy, you show 'em how to get here. And you tell 'em I'll be waiting.

E.B. Farnum:
Hey doc the cavalry is in town.

Doc Cochran:
F*** the Cavalry!

[Seth storms into the Gem and confronts Dan at the bar]

Seth Bullock:
I don't care if the whole U.S. cavalry walks in here, you don't wanna pour another drink. You just wanna listen to me, 'cause if the man doesn't die whose face I just broke, he's gonna go to New York City and tell Brom Garret's people it breaks his heart to say so, but his daughter had their son murdered. He'll tell 'em. Knowin' how he does they won't want their son's rightful property in the hands of the woman who killed him, he'll swear to what he heard from her own lips, and those society people in New York City, who live with their heads up their asses anyway, will believe him. And whoever they send out here may take up to fifteen minutes before they decide that you were involved in the transaction first to last; it must've been you and your boss she hired to push her idiot husband off the cliff. 'Course, they'll be wrong about Mrs. Garret, but they'll be right as rain about you two cocksuckers. You tell him all that upstairs.

Dan Dority:
[calmly] If he don't die.

Seth Bullock:
If he don't die. I don't think I killed him.

Dan Dority:
Just so I understand you... if he don't die... you're sayin' the man's luck don't have to hold out. Now that's the message you want me to take upstairs.

Seth Bullock:
I don't swim in that sh*t. [Dan smiles and nods at the sheriff's badge in Seth's hand]

Dan Dority:
You oughta pin that on your chest. You're hypocrite enough to wear it.

Seth Bullock:
You just tell him.

E.B. Farnum:
[as Russell leaves the hotel] Antemeridian constitutional, Mr. Russell? Or will we roll the bones again?

Otis Russell:
It must cost you sleep. The guests you drive off, the chances of thievin' and bilkin' you lose, needing to rub against your betters. [he smiles and heads for the door, but before he can walk out, Seth confronts him in a barely concealed rage]

Seth Bullock:
You and I are gonna talk.

Otis Russell:
You don't account for my preferences, Mr. Bullock?

Seth Bullock:
I will beat you here in the street.

Otis Russell:
First-rate thinking. [he steps around Seth and begins walking; Seth follows him] My daughter's agent beats her father in the street. How better to condemn Alma to deepened suspicion as to her role in her husband's violent death, and widen suspicion to include yourself? Shoot craps, Mr. Bullock? [they head into the Bella Union, as everyone in town watches or follows them in. E.B. grabs his hat and heads for the door]

E.B. Farnum:
[to Richardson] I know what's in the till. [Russell and Seth walk over to Eddie's craps table]

Otis Russell:
Were you bullied, Mr. Bullock, when young and incapable? And now you see wrongs everywhere and bullying you feel called to remedy? [he throws some money down on the table] Ten, lay due.

Eddie Sawyer:
New shooter, comin' out.

Otis Russell:
The bully who oppressed your youth isn't at the table with us. Perhaps he's long dead. [he rolls the dice]

Eddie Sawyer:
Eight, point is eight.

Otis Russell:
If you would view the present with more clarity, perhaps you'd recognize that I'm not victimizing my daughter but merely asking for a small portion of the ample proceeds from her vein. [he rolls again]

Eddie Sawyer:
Seven out.

Otis Russell:
Alma is hurt only in your particular view of things. Ten again, lay due. [he slaps some more money on the table, staring straight at Seth this time] And while I'll sign no guarantee not to return, or against any future claim on her compassion, realize I do hate it here. And if you inhale and expel pure righteousness, my olfactories are keen to the smell of sh*t. [he rolls again]

Eddie Sawyer:
Six, the point is six.

Otis Russell:
Having heard all that, and knowing, as you must, the injudiciousness of making an enemy of a man who could testify truthfully that five minutes before her marriage, he heard his daughter wish her prospective husband dead, and who won't shrink from lying as to what she admitted to him on his arrival in this cesspool as to her complicity in her husband's murder... I suppose you'd best take your swing. [Seth looks at him for a moment, then punches him in the face, knocking him to the floor]

Eddie Sawyer:
[not upset at all] Gentlemen, watch the felt. [Seth begins savagely beating Russell]

Sol Star:
Seth! [he keeps going] Seth! [he keeps going] Seth! [Seth finally stands up]

Seth Bullock:
All right. Leave this this camp, and draw a map for anyone who wants to believe your f***in' lies. Anyone who wants to put your daughter or her holdings in jeopardy, you show 'em how to get here. And you tell 'em I'll be waiting.

Francis Wolcott:
Past hope. Past kindness or consideration. Past justice. Past satisfaction. Past warmth or cold or comfort. Past love. But past surprise? What an endlessly unfolding tedium life would then become.

Trixie:
I'm going in.

E.B. Farnum:
Then why am I in the first chair?

Trixie:
Anyone else suck his prick?

Al Swearengen:
I hope you're getting paid for the p*ssy. Don't put a price to it, you'll lose their respect.

Trixie:
He's teaching me accounts.

Al Swearengen:
That's all right then. Learnin' is like currency to them.

Trixie:
He stares in my eyes when he f***s me, longing-like.

Al Swearengen:
Jesus Christ!

Francis Wolcott:
I don't want you to have seen me.

Carrie:
I don't care you killed her. She must have done something to you.

Francis Wolcott:
I mean something different. I don't want to have been seen.

Carrie:
Then you're f***ing crazy. And you're gonna kill me in this f***ing shithole. Do you know how to make it not hurt?

[Carrie gets up to run away. Wolcott grabs her and slits her throat]

Francis Wolcott:
Now I could cut off my arm.

Al Swearengen:
Find out how much Tolliver paid Wu. Don't wanna be suckin' hind tit on disposal fees.

Al Swearengen:
You might, Dan, want to learn how to indicate interest in a girl other than murdering another person.

Al Swearengen:
I wouldn't trust a man who wouldn't try to steal a little.

Cy Tolliver:
[Cy's men beating Miles and Flora out in the open outside his sloon] You can help your delicate sensibilities by turning the f*** away.

Silas Adams:
When he ain't lyin', Al's the most honorable man you'll ever meet.

Al Swearengen:
I will profane your f***ing remains, E.B.

E.B. Farnum:
Not my remains, Al.

Al Swearengen:
Gabriel's trumpet will produce you from the ass of a pig.

Al Swearengen:
Lie the f*** back, and listen. I need your truthful reply - lie, I will know it... and death will be no respite.

E.B. Farnum:
I told Hearst nothing of Bullock and the widow.

Al Swearengen:
I will profane your f***ing remains, E.B.!

E.B. Farnum:
Not my remains, Al...

Al Swearengen:
Gabriel's trumpet will produce you from the ass of a pig.

Al Swearengen:
Don't I yearn for the days when a draw across the throat made f***ing resolution.

[Al knocks at the Bullock house door]

Al Swearengen:
It's Albert Swearengen.

Calamity Jane:
Custer was a c*nt. The end.

Trixie:
You will be free to come and go through your own front f***in' door, and as you lay in your beddy-bye, I'll pop from the wall like Grandma Groundhog in a story book and attend to your johnson, as he'd not see you jeopardize your mayor's campaign whore-f***in' in your place of business. And I'll have installed in room 3-f***in'-C or the like of Shaunessey's adjacent shitbox, that he's paid Shaunessey to cut a hole through to ease my f***in' f***in' you.

Sol Star:
Swearengen has?

Trixie:
Who the f*** was I just talking to?

Sol Star:
I don't know, you said you'd just gone to piss.

Al Swearengen:
Anyway, tonight's speeches are f***ing canceled. Nurse your f***ing wounds.

E.B. Farnum:
Thank you.

Al Swearengen:
I do not mean here.

Seth Bullock:
You piece of sh*t.

[Bullock grabs E.B. and throws him to the ground]

E.B. Farnum:
How have I given offence.

[Bullock begins to beat E.B]

E.B. Farnum:
[to Richardson] Call the law.

Calamity Jane:
Every day takes figuring out all over again how to f***ing live.

[Richardson has run into the Gem's kitchen, startling Jewel]

Jewel:
Goddammit Richardson! Your too f***in' ugly to be sneakin' up on people!

Al Swearengen:
[to Trixie] Loopy f***ing c*nt.

Al Swearengen:
For outright stupidity, the whole f***ing trial goes shoulder to shoulder with that cocksucker Custer's thinking when he went over that ridge.

Al Swearengen:
[of a newly-acquitted murderer] That type guy hanging round gets people agitated. Forces them to take a position, one side or the other. And agitation brings a slight bump up in whiskey sales, but sale of c*nt plummets.

Al Swearengen:
Open the f***ing canned peaches!

Al Swearengen:
We're *illegal*. Our whole goal is to get annexed to the United f***ing States. We start holding trials, what's to keep the United States f***ing Congress from saying, "Oh, excuse us! We didn't realize you were a f***ing sovereign community and nation out there! Where's your cocksucker's flag? Where's your f***ing navy, or the like? Maybe when we make our treaty with the Sioux, we should treat you people like renegade f***ing Indians - deny your f***ing gold and property claims, and hand everything over instead to our ne'er-do-well cousins and brothers-in-law."

Trixie:
[to whore] Wash your f***in' mouth. You got seven kinds of cock breath.

Al Swearengen:
My God, act civilized even if you ain't.

Lee:
I am a civilized person.

Al Swearengen:
Then take your civilization and get the f*** out of here!

Al Swearengen:
I know about the burned-up whores. I know about the San Francisco cocksucker setting a match to them. Now, here's the part you gotta listen to, Wu.

Mr. Wu:
[Shows Al a picture of China on a plate] Chung Kuo!

Al Swearengen:
It's China.

Mr. Wu:
Chung Kuo, China!

Al Swearengen:
Yeah, Chung Kuo, China. Celestial whores in the fire. What? Their spirits are f***ing nothing if their bones don't get back home? Is that it? And do you come to me to back your move against your San Francisco cocksucker rival? Am I gettin' the f***in' drift here Wu?

Mr. Wu:
Swedgin!

Al Swearengen:
Swedgin f***ing get's it. Swedgin doesn't give a f***! Back to Chink's Alley, Wu. Fall to your f***ing prayers.

Al Swearengen:
Ever wonder if you expressed yourself more directly Merrick, you might f***ing weigh less?

Doc Cochran:
I'm concerned that her mood seems labile.

Trixie:
Does that mean she's talking through her c*nt?

Al Swearengen:
Tuesdays, he'll often hold Amateur Nights. I been to several. Guy farted it seems near an hour.

Johnny Burns:
Don't sound like no amateur.

Cy Tolliver:
I hope you'll take it as measure of my keenness, sir, and curiosity.

George Hearst:
Yes, yes, yes, Mr. Tolliver, you wish to know your duties in my service.

Cy Tolliver:
Well, I make my way through the muck to learn the details.

George Hearst:
Your duties will be to answer like a dog when I call.

Cy Tolliver:
[slightly taken aback] Like a dog.

George Hearst:
Complications of intention on your part in dealings with me, or duplicity, or indirection - behavior, in short, which displeases me - will bring you a smack on the snout.

Cy Tolliver:
Ouch.

George Hearst:
When administered by a practiced hand, such a blow can be more painful and grievous even than your... recent sufferings.

Cy Tolliver:
I don't doubt the hand would be practiced.

George Hearst:
Mr. Swearengen recently discovered as much.

Cy Tolliver:
I gather it cost him a finger.

George Hearst:
But I should say too that, in these rooms just this afternoon, such displeasure brought me near to murdering the sheriff and... raping Mrs. Ellsworth. I have learned through time, Mr. Tolliver, and as repeatedly seem to forget, that whatever temporary comfort relieving my displeasure brings me, my long-term interests suffer. My proper traffic is with the earth. In my dealings with... people, I ought solely have to do with n*ggers. And whites who obey me like dogs.

Cy Tolliver:
If he hadn't meant me to wag it, sir, why would the Lord give me a tail?

Jack Langrishe:
Ambition and the blessed simplicities of action don't always quarter in comfort.

Al Swearengen:
You're looking f***in' well, Jack.

Jack Langrishe:
It's the learning f***in' nothing, Al, that keeps me young.

Cy Tolliver:
Please. State your business.

George Hearst:
Your letter from Mr. Wolcott, naming me as having knowledge of his misdeeds.

Cy Tolliver:
A letter I mentioned to you, yes, in a conversation I regret.

George Hearst:
Five percent of my holdings I recall as your demand, or you would circulate the letter's contents.

Cy Tolliver:
Exactly what I regret and now find reprehensible, and why I thank God that you take a new look at me.

George Hearst:
To this point, Mr. Tolliver, you make no materially different impression. Still lying, still bullshitting.

Cy Tolliver:
I hope I'm not, sir, but I, I can certainly understand why that would be your material second impression.

George Hearst:
Shall I show you the letter from Mr. Wolcott that I have in my possession?

Cy Tolliver:
That's not necessary from my point of view. You tell me you've got it, I believe you. [Hearst pulls the letter out of his coat pocket]

George Hearst:
Here it is. Will you compare it to your letter? Verify its authenticity?

Cy Tolliver:
That's not necessary.

George Hearst:
Shall I read to you certain pertinent sections on Wolcott's assay of your nature and likely behavior after his death? His detailing your complicitous participation in the aftermath of his crimes? Disposing of the bodies and so forth? You have no letter from Wolcott, Mr. Tolliver.

Cy Tolliver:
[sighing] Let's say that's the case.

George Hearst:
I just did. Let's hear YOU say it.

Cy Tolliver:
I have no letter from Mr. Wolcott.

George Hearst:
Never did.

Cy Tolliver:
I never did have one.

George Hearst:
You're a lying, blackmailing sack of sh*t.

Cy Tolliver:
What do you want?

George Hearst:
I want you to go to work for me.

[Seth walks into the Gem as Al, Dan, and Johnny discuss the arrival of Jack Langrishe]

Al Swearengen:
Bullock.

Seth Bullock:
Tell that Chinaman when I want admission to his meat locker, it behooves him to f***in' cooperate.

Al Swearengen:
What did he do instead?

Seth Bullock:
Said, "Swejen," and barred my way.

Al Swearengen:
Had you eyes to select your own cut?

Seth Bullock:
Are you gonna f*** with me? I had eyes for the Cornishman killed in here last week. I explained it to him, and he goddamn understood me.

Dan Dority:
Did he mosey over to a corner, lift up a f***in' tarp?

Seth Bullock:
Yeah, he went to the tarp.

Al Swearengen:
That's what the croaker was under.

Johnny Burns:
That's our nook in Wu's structure. [Al motions to Johnny, who grabs a shot glass and slides it down the bar. Al pours himself and Seth a drink]

Al Swearengen:
Why Wu delayed cooperatin', he hadn't known the croaker was under there. His stupid suit so overcome me, it slipped my mind to tell him.

Seth Bullock:
I want that body.

Al Swearengen:
I'll see Wu hands it over. [Seth drinks his shot]

Seth Bullock:
Hearst just had another Cornish killed at his diggings for tryin' to organize. They're callin' that one an accident.

Al Swearengen:
What makes you think any good'll come of confrontin' Hearst now?

Seth Bullock:
Now is when he's killin' people.

Al Swearengen:
What, you feel he'll leave off soon?

Seth Bullock:
Tactics and timin' ain't the issue.

Al Swearengen:
The hell you say. [brief pause, as Al drinks his shot while looking straight at Seth]

Seth Bullock:
If his pigs get that body, Wu is their next f***in' meal. You make him understand.

Jewel:
I put out cinnamon.

Dan Dority:
Where?

Jewel:
The meeting table.

Dan Dority:
On whose instruction?

Jewel:
Cinnamon's good with peaches.

Dan Dority:
Do not put unauthorized cinnamon on the goddamn meeting table! That's all the f*** we need.

Al Swearengen:
We'd a meeting I ought to have asked you to.

Jack Langrishe:
What topic commended my presence? Reprobates? The elderly?

Steve:
I wonder what you think you're f***ing doing.

N*gger General:
I'm laying down before I leave in the morning.

Steve:
I will ask the questions here!

Sol Star:
I wish you wouldn't smoke in here.

Trixie:
I wish when I sleep you wouldn't snore and f***in' fart!

Sol Star:
I have no choice about either of those.

Trixie:
If I extinguish this f***in' cigarette, it'll be in the middle of your f***in' forehead!

Whitney Ellsworth:
Evenin'.

Alma Garret:
[through tears] Good evening.

Whitney Ellsworth:
For bein' gone, I notice I'm frequently back. I come to kiss her goodnight. [referring to Sophia]

Alma Garret:
I tried to persuade her you'd done so last night.

Whitney Ellsworth:
My beard always wakes her.

Alma Garret:
She said so, feuding me. The thing I did that made you leave last night, the thing I was coming home to do again, I pray now to forgo forever.

Whitney Ellsworth:
Not having me in this house is gonna improve your odds.

Alma Garret:
I started using spirits at 17, Ellsworth, with no preminition we'd marry.

Whitney Ellsworth:
My feelin's that bein' vessel of purpose is not your own, your eye was out for relief. But glimpsin' since how bein' your own vessel's preferable...let the pressure come off, you're liable to do alright.

Alma Garret:
You are no pressure.

Whitney Ellsworth:
My friendly hands'll always be out to both of ya.

[Alma takes his hand]

Whitney Ellsworth:
May I interrupt her sleep with this beard?

Alma Garret:
She'd be so glad if you did.

Al Swearengen:
Open the place back up! Tell the whores if their legs ain't in the air, they'd better be off their asses!

Al Swearengen:
Read the letter.

A.W. Merrick:
[Reading] "It becomes my painful duty to inform you that Pasco Carwen was killed earlier this week. His body was found in the road a short time after he left his job. It was not mutilated in any way. His death seems to have been instantaneous as he was stabbed through the heart. Pasco's funeral occurred today and was attended by coworkers and friends who all shared the same high opinion of him. Everything was done by kind hands that was possible under the circumstances and a Christian burial was given him. I was not personally acquainted with Mr. Carwen, save for one encounter where he demonstrated grief and deep compassion at the passing of a friend. I knew him by reputation as an earnest worker and a diligent believer in right and wrong. His memory I am sure will always be with those who knew and loved him, among whose number I imagine you as first. A letter from you which I found in his tent causes me to convey this sad intelligence to you. Sincerely yours, Seth Bullock."