Pain or damage don't end the world, or despair or fucking 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. Was Left Out” · Season 2
In this episode: Al Swearengen (8), E.B. Farnum (4), Charlie Utter (3), Francis Wolcott (3), Trixie (2), Sol Star (1), Dan Dority (1), Alma Garret (1)
I feel you breathing down my neck.
Should I exhale out my ass?
And I believe you're doing it intentionally.
Why? You think I believe you're a fuckin' cunt?
[turns to face Utter] If we fight, it won't be a casual matter.
Ohhh, I see you got your big fuckin' knife there, and hid somewhere on your persons you've probably got some pussified shootin' instrument. But I am good at first impressions, and you are a fucking cunt, and I DOUBT you've fought many MEN, maybe even ONE!
[regarding Sofia] You frighten her.
I have that effect.
I think specifically it was your plotting against her life.
I'd take tea
What do you wish to discuss?
The child's tutor you recently sacked..
Miss Isringhausen?
She's a Pinkerton.
I don't find that credible.
That's the way they like it. Your husband's family chartered the agency to pin his dying on you so when you're jailed or hanged they can bag your gold.
How do you support this contention?
Oh, she's come to me, and wants to give me money to confirm what she says you confessed: that you hired me to kill him.
How much have they offered?
50,000
And how much do you ask of me as commission to tell the truth?
I don't like the Pinkertons. They're muscle for the bosses, as if the bosses ain't got enough edge...
So you'd side with me on principle?!
Now I'll finish my fucking sentence.
Excuse me.
I don't like the Pinkertons. Being the Hearst combine and their fucking ilk got their eyes on taking over here, your staying suits my purpose.
What happened to Tolliver illustrated till the race is fucking finished, never mark the fucking wager paid. Wakes up this mornig in bed with the fucking Hearst combine, knowing he's got us by the balls. Whatever sick fucking business that geologist has transacted, you can bet he had his wrists in it up...
Tolliver.
Tolliver, yeah.. before, after, and in the fucking middle too, thinking he's got the fucking edge, which is the right fucking move. Underwriting whatever sick business that geologist was involved in guarantees his fucking position, but what fucking happens, Dan?
Fucks himself up the ass.. Tolliver.
No mean feat! Yet how often we bring it off.
BBarfly
I won't fuck Chinese; I got a mother living yet.
HHawkeye
She the jealous type?
CCon
Hey, you ever hear, Tom, the Chinese whore has a ancient way of milking ya of yer sorrow, your loneliness and that awful feeling of bein' forsaken?
Seems to me that'd leave you with nothing.
Request of the widow Garret E.B. that I may be allowed to call upon her.
Today? Shall I tell her time is of the essence?
When ain't it?
I'll aim for early afternoon
Stop walking with me E.B..
Yes, of course. And if she pries and pokes and prods me to elicit your intentions?
Tell her I wouldn't say.
And if she asks me why you wouldn't?
Say you're a pain in my balls that can't desist from inquiry till told to shut his fucking mouth and act on the task he was asked to fucking do!
Have we a new Pope?
She's some fuck, E.B..
What's this about?
I'm done at that hardware store with their fuckin' harpin' and badgerin'.
Who's harping? The jew?
Are you making a fuckin' pun?
I'm asking a fucking question.
The jew. And fuckin' Bullock also. I'm erratic with my decimals and the like.
So harping now is a hardship on the same fucking order of a boot on your fucking neck? Do not fucking fault them, Trixie, for your own fucking fears of tumblin' to somethin' new.
Guidance for me, before you turn to your numbers?
Tread lightly, who lives in hope of pussy.
A man, as it happens a rival of mine, learning the secret of a great man's lieutenant would make that lieutenant his slave. My rival knows that expanding the circle of the informed, diluting his power, will confound his intention, so he takes precaution to be the sole sharer of his secret. Then the world being the world.. along comes a half-assed knight-errant, Utter, Hickok's ex-partner, to put all my rival's plans at risk. I'd seek audience with Utter, verify my thinking. He earns his bread shipping packages. And as the dimwit nobility that made him intercede may now make him reticent, you, Chief, will be my prop and ploy whilst I seek to draw him out.
Why, Al?
Why, E.B.? Because being present at that meeting and made as you are, blackmail would have proved irresistible and pursuing it would have gotten you murdered.
Prudence dictates my requiring, in return, your account of what Miss Stubbs told you.
The prudentest thing you can do is not name that girl again with me in the fucking room.
I am simply asking confirmation of what you were told and by whom.
And I'm promising I'll sooner blow off your fucking head, and take the fucking letter from your corpse than confide any fucking particulars.
To me?
To any fucking one, when I give my word I wouldn't.
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! Cunt-lickers! I'll make you filthy gestures. Public service was never my primary career. Two come this way...
These quotes come from Wikiquote's Deadwood pages and are available under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike License.