All language subtitles for Deadwood S02E12 Boy-the-Earth-Talks-To (1080p x265 10bit Joy)

[THEME MUSIC PLAYING]

[SOFT SNORING]

[SPEAKS IN CHINESE]

[TELEGRAPH BUZZING
RHYTHMICALLY]

[SPEAKING IN CHINESE]

[SHOUTS]

[GROWLS]

-[JOHNNY YELLS] Jesus Christ!
-[SHOUTING IN CHINESE]

All Chinese but Wu stay put!

-[SPITS, BELLOWS]
-Wu!

Wu! Wait a minute, Wu!
I will fucking drop you!

-Wu, get with me here!
-[SHOUTS IN CHINESE]

...Exactly because of this bullshit!
-[SHOUTS]

...Or I'll blow your tall Chinese head off!
Hey, Davey, open the door!

Thank you.

Mmm.

Wu's reappeared, Mr. Tolliver.

His and Lee's Chinks went at it.

Looks like one dead apiece.

Whence the fuck did Wu reappear?

[LAUGHS] It seems to me like he
just fucking materialized.

CY: From the clouds
or in some type conveyance?

Leon:
Make me choose, I'll pick the clouds.

One minute he ain't by his sty.

The next glance, there he is.

Then one man's dead
by ax... Lee's man.

One by bullet.

-Wu's.
-From Lee's pistol.

Then Wu and Lee are coming
after each other like stags

until Burns drags Wu into The Gem.

-Drags Wu into The Gem?
-Burns does, yes, sir,

pointing his pistol at Lee.

Could Wu have issued
from The Gem, as well?

I wouldn't say he didn't.

Larson,
that I got the dollar in with,

says he just brought
George Hearst to camp, sir.

Cy:
Some of us don't know better

might mistake me for being
on the outside looking in.

Then you got your idle snatch
reading scripture

and know there's still hope.

Con Stapleton!

Yes, sir?

Situate yourself
at the Grand Central

and tell me what fucking Wolcott's
doing and who he's doing it with.

[GASPS]
Yes, sir, Mr. T.

-Can the bison spare you?
-[SIGHS]

Something strikes me fucking
melancholy about that creature.

One more fucking day!

That's all he had to control himself

and I could have put him
in fucking business!

-Swedgin...
-Shut the fuck up, Wu!

At least he has an excuse.

He's a Chink. Who knows what
the tribal requirements are?

Maybe you don't act for a week,

maybe they exclude you
from fucking dominoes or the like.

But you!

Tipping our fucking business!

-I'm sorry, Al.
-You hold one Chink off at gunpoint,

-bring him the fuck up here!
-I'm sorry.

I'm so fucking pleased
I trusted you, Johnny,

to go out and buy meat!

Get out of my fucking way!

Tell Hearst I want to see him.

EB:
My only reluctance, Al,

-I have had such an onset of diarrhea.
-[ADAMS SNICKERS]

EB...

If the conversation's brief

I'm absolutely equal to the task.

What shall I invoke as your reason?

How about the fucking truth?

The Chink that attacked his Chink
has been captured by my employee.

If it would please Mr. Hearst,
I'd like a word with him

before I decide what to do
with the Chink in my custody.

-But you'd like it here?
-Don't you be setting fucking terms, EB.

He's got reason enough
to want the look-around.

Fine then!

[SIGHS] Go lock him up somewhere
in the whore's quarters.

You might think to put
a fucking guard on him...

That ain't asleep,
you incompetent fucks!

-It wasn't my watch he escaped on, Al.
-Go away, Johnny.

I was 10:00 to 4:00.

Shut the fucking door!

Would you still be willing, Mr. Bullock,

to see me take up the teaching
of the camp's children?

I would, yes. I'd be delighted.

Delighted.

I don't want to lose him,

but I wouldn't upset them either.

I see.

They're daunted enough
by schooling itself.

Oh, yes.

I am speaking of wearing mourning

until the year has passed.

But I...

believe if I teach them with...

love and joy,

then I won't make them afraid.

And I don't want to lose him.

You'll never lose him.

Are we done with our buying, Francis?

All but one of the important finds.

Ah, I have 40 stamps and a millwright
coming in from the Ophir.

WOLCOTT: I have the mill sited,
the ground tiled and leveled.

The Garret find we don't yet own
is not placed to obstruct operations.

I want it bought.

I believe its title will be
contested in coming months.

To act now would buy
the contest and not the find.

All this fiddle fucking around
is tactical back-and-forth.

We're up and running, Mr. Hearst.

With the millwright and double shifts
we should be full bore inside the week.

Getting it out of the ground,
that's what I love.

Thank you for handling
the acquisitions, Francis.

"Excuse me, Mr. Hearst."

Might I escort you...

across the thoroughfare

"to meet a local luminary?"

Will you be joining me
at the operation this morning?

I may this afternoon.
This morning I'm conceding to my back.

This fellow looks like he
stepped out of a specimen box.

Excuse me, gentlemen.

Forgive me for interrupting
your repast.

I'm EB Farnum,
mayor and hotelier.

And I know you are George Hearst.

-Yes?
-Allow me a moment's silence, Mr. Hearst.

Sir, I am having a digestive crisis

and must focus
on suppressing its expression.

What's next... pink fucking panties
or something?

Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ.
I can't fucking do it.

And I'll have a look
at one of those pans.

Not now.
Tomorrow I'll make you a price.

This is the prospective groom
for today's prospective wedding

and I'm going to wait on him
now in privacy.

Oh, I'm surprised
you have any trade left,

often as I clear the joint.

-[PANTS]
-What can't you do?

Any of it!

-It feels like.
-Oh...

These fucking mittens in particular.

"Traditional," the fucking tailor says.

Well, not in my experience they ain't.

And if I was to imagine
where they might be,

amongst males about to marry
ain't what comes to my mind.

Look at these cocksuckers!
Lavender!

"The rigor in New York City,"

whatever the fuck that means.

Have you brought up
not wearing them?

What if they're her idea?

That's liable to bring
the dromedary to its knees.

Christ. I'm in mortal misery.

Anyways.
[SIGHS]

Today's the day.

Going to the wedding, Davey?

Not hardly, Mr. Swearengen.

-I wasn't invited.
-I was, not that I'm going.

Vicious rumors I was responsible
for her first husband's death,

fucking woman invites me
to her wedding.

Guess it's no accounting
for why people do things.

The congregation...

says "Amen," Davey.

Consider the Chinaman.

-Wu?
-Hmm.

Forsakes safety and even odds
in a future fight

for immediate fucking dubious combat.

Here again, what gets
into people's heads?

The congregation says "Amen."

What?

Nothing. I was being funny.

No no no. Don't be fucking funny
with me, Davey.

I didn't mean to interrupt
your train of thought.

What?

Nothing, sir.

Did you loose that Chinaman
to fuck up my fucking plans?

Don't lie to me, Davey, or that breath
you're holding is the last you draw.

[CHOKED]
Can I speak?

-Go ahead.
-I need to breathe.

-Go, take a breath.
-[GASPS]

I fucking fell asleep, sir,
on my fucking watch over the Chinaman.

He didn't pay you to let him go?

No, I feel off to sleep
from the holding of three jobs.

-He told me he paid you.
-Then he's a lying fucking bastard!

[SOFT SLAPS]

-Don't fall asleep, Davey, hmm?
-No, sir.

-Quit a job before you fall asleep on it.
-Yes, sir.

EB: There he is.
That's Mr. Swearengen.

Yes, I see.

Now I call this
an impressive contingent.

-Would you be Mr. Hearst?
-Yes, sir.

-Al Swearengen. How do you do?
-Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Swearengen.

AL: I'll suggest we adjourn
to my quarters.

-Your kill, sir?
-Who?

The animal.

AL: Oh no. Fuck no.
I'm a fucking terrible shot.

I work better closer in.

EB:
I'll stay below, gentlemen.

Unless you wish me up above?

Hurt back?

[GROANS]
Just a little achy today.

Declining years spare us
no fucking indignities.

My latest blessing is a horse apple
up my fucking asshole.

Half my waking hours are spent
trying to pass water.

Dan, bring that Celestial to my office!

I want to show him to Mr. Hearst.

Very auspicious beginning!

I'd think with these
balcony doors open,

you'd get a little
cross draft in the summer.

-I do indeed.
-I've spent the last summers in Mexico.

Oh, that fucking heat
must be oppressive.

-Oh-ho.
-Nevada's was drier, I'd expect.

-Have you been there?
-My inferno was Australia.

Waste of two years that was.

-[KNOCKS AT DOOR]
-Yeah, come in.

Here we are.

This yellow monkey's Wu.

Older fella. Not often
you can tell how old they are.

Done a turn or two for me, Wu has.

And well-liked enough among his own.

-His display against your Chink...
-[GRUNTING]

...was my first fucking inkling
that he's irrational.

HEARST: Mr. Lee, the man he tried to kill,
has worked well for me in several camps.

Then God bless Lee
and off with fucking Wu's head!

You've got your finger on the cause of
it too... your Chink being forward-looking.

"Set the bodies ablaze,
on with the day's trade!"

-This one being longer in the tooth...
-Set what bodies ablaze?

Custom holds stronger
to what passes for his mind.

-What bodies, Mr. Swearengen?
-The whores for your workers.

Not only does burning
the corpses save cargo space

far as the transporting of their bones
back to the homeland...

Which, as I gather, they hold as their
big fucking chance at the afterlife...

What a tremendous tactic,
terrifying the unburned here.

-Do you know prospecting, Mr. Swearengen?
-Fucking nothing of it.

-And the securing of the color once found?
-Not a fucking thing.

-All I really care about.
-I fucking hope so.

I'd hate to think you're this good
at something that's only a hobby.

Most often my finds are
in wild places, which I prefer.

When that is not so,

I want friendly relations
with my predecessors

so that I can secure the color...

undistracted.

Concentration, see.

I suspect that's a key
with you hugely successful types.

If others can provide here

with less disruption to the camp

services Lee provided me elsewhere,

I'd have no objection to using them.

Labor being the fucking essential?

Towards securing the color.

This is the camp's original Chink.
All subsequent Chinks were his imports.

Wu will staff your mines.

And those that survive the explosions,
he can place in laundries or kitchens.

-Can he understand us?
-Very little English.

Naw, no words we've employed so far.
Say "cocksucker," Wu.

-Cocksucker.
-[HEARST CHUCKLES]

That, San Francisco and Swedgin,
that's all I've heard him use.

-Swedgin...
-Shut up.

Now as to your man and mine,

I would need some demonstration

before making my final choice.

-Your man would have to prove out.
-That's a fucking mining term.

Now that's a fucking expression
I've heard.

And you understand
it's import and context.

Yes, sir.

It's a pleasure to meet you,
Mr. Swearengen.

Honor and a pleasure
meeting you, Mr. Hearst.

Kill a rooster, Wu,
and offer him up in sacrifice!

Then start honing your weapons

for tonight's demonstration.

[TRIXIE YELLS]
Stick me one more fucking time, Jewel,

I'll drop you in a pool of fucking blood!

Well, you just can't stand still.

I'm moving trying to defend
my-fucking-self!

He's getting what he asked for anyway.

Loony fucking Jew!

Wear this.

Devious fucking cripple you are.

How'd you pay that time then

for the gun I sent you to buy?

Sold a piece of pussy.

EB: How may I serve you
further, Mr. Hearst,

be the fashion great or mean?

Hearst:
Make a price on your hotel.

Mr. Wolcott says you avoid it.

May I quibble with "avoid," sir,

as inexactly fitting the case?

EB:
Not all... get over!

Not all not-makings-of-a-price

are avoidances necessarily,
would you say?

What will you take?

Get away from me, God damn you!

Forgive me.

[YELPS]
Excuse me.

L-I am mad.

My hotel is also my hospital.

I am my own warden.

I mustn't sell,

lest I then wander the thoroughfare

gibbering like a simian...

brandishing my privates in my fist.

-[GASPS]
-Will you take 100,000

if I let you stay on as manager?

Yes, sir. I must, of course.

I'll have it sent over later.

Well, where am I?

[LAUGHS]
Why... why am I on my ass?

[EB CHUCKLES]

JARRY: May I say to you that the week
since our meeting has seen me

conduct with Yankton an active
telegraphic correspondence

which on every count has ameliorated
the terms of the proposal before you

-in favor of the Deadwood camp?
-You smell like cat piss.

I have worked so hard and diligently
for you, Mr. Swearengen,

that well may be the case.

Regardless of the outcome,

I am proud of that advocacy.

Having said that,
are you liable to say more?

Let the document now speak for itself.

The letters may get larger,

the numbers will not.
[SNICKERING]

Forgive me.

Long hours,
giddy at the smell of the barn.

Stoic composure.

The next sound you hear will be
that of your own voice.

Get the fuck out of here!
You'll know when I've come to an answer.

I must tell you I require
a response within the hour.

[PAPER SLIDES]

-Or as soon as humanly possible.
-[SLIDES BACK]

Clam-on-a-half-shell-looking
goddamned fool!

[YELLS] I'm embarrassed
to say I know you!

Supposed intelligent woman

holding with rank superstition.

The same clothes worn to nuptials

the week of a memorial
curse bride and groom forever.

[MOSE COUGHS]

[YELLS]
Shut up, Mose!

He asked for work here.

As what?

Watchman is what he suggested.

We're a vacant structure,
in case he ain't fucking noticed.

I think he shrinks from leaving.

And the word for that is malingering.

Here.

I will not.

You will.

Is that part of the superstition?

Undergarments, yes!

Over privates in layers

or bride and groom are doomed.

Hearst is at that claim,
mid-thoroughfare...

The one you bought
from Marvin Somes.

Still in the company of Farnum?

No, sir. They left The Gem,

conversed a bit,
Farnum fell over backwards.

Hearst then helped him back to his feet,
then the two parted company.

That makes a lot
of fucking sense, Con.

Well done.

Farnum then returned to his hotel

that they're readying for them nuptials.

You know, Ellsworth
and the widow Garret's!

Guess that's the last Ellsworth
will be seeing of a placer cradle.

[YELLS]
Set for life!

[BREATHES HEAVILY]

[KNOCKS AT DOOR]

Yeah?

Davey said you wanted to see me.

Get in here.

And help me parse
Yankton's proposal.

We study...

for our fucking lives.

CY: Three hours in camp,
going straight to exploring her vitals.

Cy Tolliver, Mr. Hearst,
that's acted for your interests

at one or several removes
these last couple of months.

How do you do?
Did you buy me this hole?

Off Marvin Somes, sir, yes, I did.

She's out of color, boys.
Let's fill her in.

I was told to act on all offers.

You did well, Mr. Tolliver.

We want to be comprehensive.

I, uh, have been in the mud
a bit for you myself, Mr. Hearst.

I had my shovel out covering work
of your Mr. Wolcott.

Thank you for that.

Scooped and scrubbed

and cleaned up the guts and gore

'cause I do what
the business requires.

[CHUCKLES]
Ah, there's my hotel.

The camp elders called
a meeting in the aftermath.

Barely time to wash my hands
before I talked them into washing theirs.

I have been traveling, sir.

Why don't we resume after I've rested?

[CHUCKLES]

Well, I guess I can
manage awhile longer

to keep the whiff off of him.

Suspicion, Mr. Hearst,

off your geologist Wolcott
for cutting three whores' throats.

[GRUNTING]

[GROANS]
Oh, cocksucker.

Alma's voice:
I don't know why I seek you out.

If lying in the ground
you can think or have feelings,

you may hate me
and my part in your fate

as I sometimes hate you
for bringing me here.

Though I know your bringing me
was the end of something

whose beginning I had as much
a part of, certainly, as you.

I am afraid.

I am so afraid that my life
is living me,

and soon will be over and not
a moment of it will have been my own.

And of how my body now tells me

that is fine and right.

Perhaps I confide to you
because you cannot tell anyone.

I am to have a child,

and I have a child in my care.

He is a good man.

And he whom I love is here as well.

-These walls are coming down.
-They'll be your walls soon.

Ever since I was a child in Missouri
I've been down every hole I could find.

Boy-the-earth-talks-to.

I've told you...
That's what the Indians call me.

-Yes.
-It talks to you too, Francis. I know.

Our time together,
your hearing has stayed keen.

But this gambler Tolliver,
who was our agent

for securing the claims,

has spoken to me about you.

He says that you've killed women.

Prostitutes.

That he has disposed
of the bodies for you.

[SHOUTS]
Well?

When I was in Campeche

you wrote a letter on my behalf.

To the Jefe de Policia.

"I am aware
of Mr. Wolcott's difficulty.

You will find me personally grateful

for any adjustments
you may make in his case."

What did you think that was about?

I didn't think about it.
You were my agent in Mexico!

You had many responsibilities.
You asked me for the letter and I wrote it!

As when the earth talks to you
particularly, you never ask its reasons.

I don't need to know why I'm lucky!

What if the earth talks to us
to get us to arrange its amusements?

That sounds like
goddamned nonsense to me.

Suppose to you it whispers,

"You are king over me.

I exist to flesh your will."

-Nonsense.
-And to me...

"There is no sin."

It happened in Mexico
and now it's happened here.

We must end our connection,
you understand that, Francis.

Make a severance you think fair.

You know I won't quibble.

Does some spirit overtake you?

Is that what you mean by the "talk"?

No.

It tells me where the color is.

That's all it tells me.

My God.

[SNIFFLES]

This has to be a date certain.
"Timely fashion" means fucking nothing.

[AL URINATING]
Timely fashion

means when they got the fix in.

So when do you want the elections?

The sooner the fucking better.

-Six weeks?
-[GROANS]

No more!

Far as bringing ringers in,

a period of residence
would be a nice shiv

to stick in their fucking ribs.

And now you're using
your fucking noodle.

How do we put that into words?

"Period of residence."

Are you being smart with me?

How would you put it?

"Period of residence
not less than" what?

Two weeks.

"No one is eligible to vote

unless they've been
two weeks in the camp."

Unless committed
to dump in our favor.

I'd like to get this fucking thing done.

"Has not been

two weeks in camp."

Now I'll tell you what the fuck else,

and it makes me weep to say it,

take out the fucking 50
from Yankton to us.

Shall I urge you to reconsider?

We get this thing off the ground,

I will be without peer of robbing
these cocksuckers senseless.

I don't want the founding document
recording a fucking bribe.

Strike number four from the original,

with disgust it was even brought up.

What else?

Summon that cat-piss-smelling fuckhead

and His Holiness the sheriff.

[AL SHOUTS]
Commissioner!

Shall we chat?

Aw, ain't you two
a fucking picture?

Oh, Trixie, you, uh...
Save me a trip.

You should've let it hit her in the schnoz,
remind her of escorts in days past.

That's a gift for the bride,

from her child's former tutor in absentia.

Whirling her around's okay, Star,
just don't tread on her fucking toes!

Adams.

You saw Yankton's hypocrite, huh?

Just His Holiness

and we'll have a quorum.

Oh, go ahead and take
that to him, Captain. Thank you.

[SIGHS]

[SNIFFS]

[SNEEZES]

Bless you.

Bless you.
Bless you.

[GIGGLES]
Bless you.

I'm in the day's fucking talons, Tom.

There's talk of an offer on my place.

How will you answer?

I came to take counsel with you.

Drunk or sober is my question.

Well, I have my wits about me, Al.

Maybe then...
you'll want a few more, huh?

Don't talk to me in fucking riddles.

Drunk, Tom, for reasons not to do
with business, you'll sell.

If that's your decision, let me offer.

Sober, you know setting's stupid.

What's my reason
not to do with business?

Use your own fucking faculties.

Remorse.

Over that boy that was not
your fucking fault.

Again?

Not right now.

Ellsworth...

and the widow Garret,

what odds would you
have made on that?

Every so often
there's a love match.

[LAUGHING]

[MANDOLIN TUNING]

[HIGH-PITCHED VOICE]
isn't it time to start the ceremony?

[MANDOLIN PLAYING
"HERE COMES THE BRIDE"]

And now, my dear lady,

shall I part thou leather lips?

[WHISPERS]
It's the damn underwear.

Dearly beloved,
we are gathered together here

in the sight of God
and in the face of this company

to join this man and this woman

in holy matrimony,

which estate instituted of God

at the time of man's innocency,

signifying unto us the mystical union

that is betwixt Christ and his church;

therefore, not to be entered into
lightly but reverently,

discreetly, advisedly, soberly

and in fear of God.

If any man here
can show just cause

why they may not be
lawfully joined together

let him now speak or else hereafter
forever hold his peace.

Whitney Conway Ellsworth...

wilt thou have this woman
to thy wedded wife,

to live after God's ordinance

in the holy estate of matrimony?

Wilt thou love her, comfort her,

honor and keep her
in sickness and in health,

and forsaking all others,
keep thee only unto her

as long as you both shall live?

I will.

Cramed:
Alma Russell Garret...

wilt thou have this man
to thy wedded husband,

to live together after God's ordinance

-in the holy estate of matrimony...?
-I will.

Uh, continuing.
Wilt thou obey him and serve him,

love, honor and keep him
in sickness and in health,

and forsaking all others,
keep thee only unto him

as long as ye both shall live?

I will.

Who giveth this woman
to be married to this man?

I do. Both.

CRAMED: Say after me,
"I, Whitney Conway Ellsworth..."

Ellsworth:
I, Whitney Conway Ellsworth...

"Vow to love,
cherish and protect..."

Vow to love, cherish and protect...

"Till death do us part according
to God's holy ordinance..."

Till death do us part

according to God's holy ordinance...

"And thereto I give
to thee my troth."

And thereto I give to thee my troth.

Say after me,

"I, Alma Russell Garret..."

I, Alma Russell Garret...

"Vow to love,
cherish and obey..."

Vow to love, cherish and obey...

"Till death do us part according
to God's holy ordinance..."

Till death do us part according to God's
holy ordinance...

"And thereto I give
to thee my troth."

And thereto I give to thee my troth.

The ring.

"With this ring
I thee wed."

With this ring I thee wed.

Those whom God has joined together

let no man put asunder.

For inasmuch as Alma
and Whitney have

consented together in holy wedlock,

and have witnessed the same
before God and this company,

and thereto have given
and pledged their troth

each to the other,
and have declared the same

by giving and receiving
a ring and joining hands,

I now pronounce
that they are man and wife.

-[HAMMER POUNDING]
-[PLASTER CRACKING]

-[MANDOLIN PLAYING]
-We ask all to join us for collation

and dancing in the thoroughfare.

-[DANCE MUSIC PLAYING]
-[PARTY CHATTERING]

[FLASHBULB POPS]

-DAN: Shit!
-[WHORE GIGGLES]

-What's so fucking funny?
-Nothing.

[CLAPS]

Who are you fucking clapping orders at, Wu?
You only got us on loan.

[SPEAKS IN CHINESE]

Adams:
Oh, for Christ's sake!

I guess in for a penny,
in for a fucking pound.

Swedgin.

He wouldn't allow it
if I went up and asked him.

Swedgin!

Johnny:
Do you wanna swap masks?

JANE: What the fuck
are you looking at?

I wasn't fucking looking at you!

-[SONG ENDS]
-[APPLAUSE]

[SILENT]

Mr. Ellsworth, was I right
about the gloves?

[UPBEAT MUSIC RESUMES]

Full and final payment, Mr. Tolliver,

for what service

you conceive you've rendered me.

The Lord himself would testify

to me having served you, Mr. Hearst,

[CHUCKLES]
and to what should be my just reward.

Oh...

Is that the cocksucker addressing us
from the fucking whirlwind?

"George Hearst, Cy's just reward..."

Every claim he helped you buy

he's in for 5%.

Cy, as I'll sometimes
be busy elsewhere,

take your own fucking precautions
you're fairly treated.

"Should George try to fuck you,
Wolcott's letter gets broad circulation."

Tell me what letter you mean.

George asks what letter
you refer to, Lord.

"That you, Cy,

before you disposed of them whores,

made that murdering geologist write
once he told you

George knew of his habits."

Disturb you being in the public eye?

Some don't mind.

Fuck, some men like it.

But I wonder
if you're among them.

Stop moving your hand, sir.

I mean you no harm,

but I can't speak for Captain Turner.

"Put your hand down, Cy."
I hear you, Lord.

[SIGHS]
The press being sold-out cunts,

it hardly matters that a story's true,

but one like this that is,

sporting a man like you
and a fucked-up geologist

and whores dug up
from shallow graves

with their throats slit from ear to ear,

and the same to their poor privates...

What's that, Lord?

[CHUCKLES]
Would you, Lord?

You dirty-minded cocksucker.

He says He'd follow
a story like that Himself.

5%.

Your interests seen to
by one that controls his appetites.

[DOOR SHUTS]

Hearst:
You'd first

want to know from Wolcott
if there is a letter.

[SIGHS]

You got your quiver
full of words again, don't you?

-[CRAMED CHUCKLES]
-I found him in the woods.

All's he could say was "I'm sorry."

[MUSIC CONTINUING]

First I knew Andy
all's he could say was "deal."

[SPEAKING IN CHINESE]

[ARGUING]

[GROANS]

[SCREAMS]

Davey, tell Merrick
to go ahead and print.

Fraught with contingencies, Chief,

is our fucking electoral process.

Will His Holiness climb
into a bottle or pursue the widow,

stiff-pricked, the miles
to her hot springs honeymoon?

Who'll bear the local's banner then, huh?

[INHALES DEEPLY]

[EXHALES DEEPLY]

Most men, Andy, once they've
brought one fucking plague

to the camp would lay the fuck off.

Not you! No, you're going
to bible-talk my whores.

God is not mocked, Cy.

You've got a pestilence
for every fucking occasion!

-[GROANS]
-God is not mocked, you son of a bitch!

He fucking gutted me.

See to him, honey.

I ain't gonna die!

[GASPING]
Don't let me die.

[GRUNTS]

[WU SHOUTS IN CHINESE]

[SCREAMS]

[EXHALES]

-[CHUCKLES]
-Welcome the fuck back!

Miss Stubbs.

[LAUGHS]
Mr. Utter.

They dance on, Chief,

however much at home,

as at yours and mine,

comfort and love await.

Unhurt... it appears.

Don't hold for them
that went against us.

AL: I should hope fucking not.

How'd he fight?

He gave a good fucking account,
did Mr. Wu.

-Lee?
-San Francisco cocksucker...

Well done then, men.

And well done, Adams,

the day's full course,
indoors and out.

[PANTS]
Thanks.

You saved my bacon
in that fucking alley.

-Jesus Christ!
-Fucking Adams.

Swedgin!

All right, Wu.

[GROANS]

[YELLS]
Wu! America!

That'll hold you tight to her tit.

[SPEAKS IN CHINESE]

[ROPE CREAKING]

[MERRICK/BTAZANOV SHOUTING]
Elections are coming!

AW: Territorial governor
agrees to local elections!

Blazanov:
Elections are coming!

Don't you have
a fucking home to get to?

Right this way, Mrs. Ellsworth.

Bart, help Mrs. Ellsworth
onto the wagon.

There we go.

Help her up there!

[MUSIC CONTINUING]

-[MUSIC ENDS]
-[APPLAUSE, CHEERING]

I believe it's to your fucking right.

JANE: Hey, we ain't done
fucking dancing!

[MUSIC, CHEERING RESUME]

Man:
Oh, gather round, friends. Why hurry?

Let's all stay a little longer.

[FIDDLE MUSIC PLAYING]

♪ Oh, stay all night,
stay a little longer ♪

♪ Dance all night,
dance a little longer ♪

♪ Pull off your coat,
throw it in the corner ♪

♪ Don't see why you don't
stay a little longer ♪

♪ Oh-ho! ♪

♪ Sittin' in the window,
singin' to my love ♪

♪ A slop bucket fell
from the window above ♪

♪ Mule and the grasshopper
eatin' ice cream ♪

♪ The mule got sick and they
laid him on a beam ♪

♪ Stay all night, stay a little longer ♪

♪ Dance all night,
dance a little longer ♪

♪ Pull off your coat,
throw it in the corner ♪

♪ Don't see why you don't
stay a little longer ♪

♪ Stay all night,
stay a little longer ♪

♪ Dance all night,
dance a little longer ♪

♪ Pull off your coat,
throw it in the corner ♪

♪ Don't see why you don't
stay a little longer. ♪