Deadwood

Yeah!

When did you turn recluse?

You and the Jew settled in?

The Jew's a born fucking householder.

Scouts furniture in the fucking catalogs morning and night.

The Mrs. Ellsworth's a 10-day miracle.

Up and about and up and fucking doing.

Meets with fucking Hearst today, her and fucking Ellsworth,

that I'd have thought would have steered her fucking clear.

- Hearst's invite? - Lady's bright idea.

I've pretext enough if you'd have me call to dissuade her.

Don't you get in the fucking middle.

Jesus fucking Christ, Al.

She might as well set herself afire!

I can't imagine that cocksucker got to you.

Or you're folding your fucking tent.

The last shot ain't yet fired.

Stage is coming.

My god, look at Wu.

Lost his mind in San Francisco.

You think he married the nigger?

I'm talking about his suit.

A.W. Merrick: Mr. Blazanov!

- Mr. Merrick! - (Merrick laughs)

Oh, God.

I am barely speaking to you.

Who the fuck is that?

A shabby, shabby exit from Virginia City.

No "farewell, Jack."

No "by your leave." Nothing.

Did you notice I was being pursued?

Is that us over there?

That is we, my dear, yes.

I will install us momentarily... Countess.

I stay till the costumes come down.

Admirable, only the most minimal of civilities.

"Hello, how are you?" "A bit warmer today than Tuesday."

That last may be too forgiving.

George Hearst: Aunt Lou!

- Aunt Lou: Hey. - (laughs)

Good to see you.

Hearst's meals are about to improve.

- George: Come on in. - Aunt Lou: Okay.

Go away.

Stay close to the Jew.

If it's Ellsworth apprising you of the widow,

let him fucking continue and do likewise for me.

That's more fucking like it.

Doc Cochran: Very considerate of you

to come to me when I thought I was coming to you.

As I was feeling well, I thought you'd agree

the exercise might be beneficial.

Does your examination confirm my suspicions

as to how I'm feeling?

It does.

You seem fully recovered.

I'm delighted to be recovered.

- And to find my own judgments reliable. - (coughs)

I would, however,

advise against rushing back into things.

Would any meeting between us be complete, Doctor,

until I'd had your counsel against something?

Have you finished taking the medicine I gave you?

Implying what, Dr. Cochran?

I'm implying nothing, Mrs. Ellsworth.

I'm putting a question to you.

I disposed of the medicine you gave me, Dr. Cochran,

knowing I had a weakness for it,

- without having finished taking it. - I see.

You seem incapable of crediting me

as a full and... normal person.

I credit you as exactly that, madam,

which is to say as having limits like the rest of us,

and to urge upon you the humility

of not asking more of yourself than is reasonable.

And I'd add my observation

that refusal to make such adjustment

sometimes is symptom in women

of an inadequate recovery from the rigors you've just endured.

- You say this as my physician? - Yes.

- Not my reprover or rebuker? - No.

Then, thank you, Doctor,

and good morning.

You ain't getting no cobbler, Mr. Hearst,

till I get my hands on them boots.

Uh, here they come. Here they come.

Not one spoonful till I got 'em clean.

Filthy.

It's frontier living out here, Aunt Lou.

Where I go, ain't no frontier.

I bring some standards with me.

Ah...

I miss Missouri yet, Aunt Lou.

Wasn't the world peak of ripe back then?

Didn't even the birds seem to sing different?

- More like they meant it. - More like they meant it, you understand.

I don't suppose you operate another pair in secret.

You know I wouldn't fib.

I'll brush 'em up directly.

I got you living right here in the building, Aunt Lou.

I wouldn't even think about any other arrangements.

Mighty generous, Mr. Hearst.

Mighty brave.

Will you take a walk, see the camp?

I'll take a walk as far as my kitchen.

I should have known you'd say that.

- You want that peach cobbler, don't you? - I do, for a fact.

And they know downstairs who's boss.

Is this here a rich place, Mr. Hearst?

Oh, very, very rich, Aunt Lou.

For pure scale...

maybe the richest find I've seen.

Guess we can live without them birds then.

Hmm.

The high points of the fucking high points

of your trip, Wu.

'Cause I won't be able to follow you anyway.

Wu. San Francisco.

You look like a fucking idiot,

if no one has yet conveyed to you the truth.

Wu, San Francisco, Hearst.

Yeah, you in San Francisco,

collecting workers for Hearst.

- Ho. - How soon, fucking Wu?

The many Chinks in Hearst's employ?

Huh?

Hello, hello, hello, hello!

The many Chinks here, huh?!

- How soon? - Ah...

10 day.

"10-day Wu."

Clever cocksucker, you come back with more fucking English.

Ho.

Now once I get my ducks in order,

you will give your information to Hearst

in a sit-down,

so we can gauge his attitude toward me.

Wu, Hearst, Swedgin.

"Swedgin" must act as translator,

as he is the only one in camp

versed in both languages.

Ho.

Chung Kuo, am I right or am I fucking wrong?

- Chung Kuo. - Chung Kuo, - heng-dai.

- Heng-dai. - Heng-dai, - Chung Kuo.

And I'll tell you when the meeting is, huh?

Welcome home, Wu.

Mmm.

Whitney Ellsworth: It's arrogance, nothing more to goddamn less.

Alma Ellsworth: Do not use profanity, please, speaking to me.

For goodness sake.

Apologizing for my language,

I ask you consider my meaning.

It hardly seems arrogant to me

to seek an equitable and mutually beneficial resolution with Mr. Hearst.

Then spare him that paper with your pretty ideas.

Tell him your price for how much you'll sell,

because Hearst don't let his partners set policy.

I hadn't realized you were so intimate with his business methods.

Please don't be smart with me, not about this.

"This," Mr. Ellsworth, being the question of my mine?

Well, what in the hell else would it be?! Excuse me.

I will meet with Mr. Hearst.

I'll be delighted if you should choose to accompany me.

Oh, I ain't one to miss a train wreck.

Though if you cannot forbear from patronizing me,

I'd prefer you didn't come at all.

Alright, Mrs. Ellsworth.

Alright.

Empty.

You sure you don't want me to work behind here, boss?

If I wanted you working behind here,

you'd be fucking working behind here.

Fucking work over there.

Um, it occurs to me, Al, as you and he

are... so evidently well-acquainted,

the decent interval that, uh, Mr. Langrishe

is owed to make his domestic arrangements

I might spend hearing you talk of him.

Ever wonder if you expressed yourself more directly, Merrick,

you might fucking weigh less?

I see no logic in that whatever.

I don't want to talk of Langrishe, he makes me fucking nervous.

On what account?

I can't say on what account.

That type, the type you don't know exactly how you feel about him

is who you're made nervous by.

Young man!

Keeping the wolf away, I see.

Jack.

John Langrishe, sir.

The operator has the manners of a pig.

A.W. Merrick, Mr. Langrishe,

Publisher of The Deadwood Pioneer.

Ah! Accounted for the halo I see above you.

Shit blizzard's early today.

He takes his tone with you as a familiar.

Oh, we're well-acquainted, Mr. Swearengen and I.

Mmm, new friends, old campaigners.

The infrequent bloody win.