The Proposition Page #4

Hard to see it.

At foot of the ranges.

What? I can't see a bloody thing.

There.

What?

Smoke.

Love.

Love is the key.

Love and family.

For what are night and day -

the sun, the moon, the stars -

without love...

and those you love around you?

What could be more hollow...

than to die alone... unloved?

What the f*** was that?

F***in' trooper's rifle... 450s.

- Shooting blacks.

- Be calm, Samuel.

The shots are miles away.

Thou shalt flourish

Great and free

The dread and envy

Of them all

Rule Britannia

Britannia rules the waves

Britain never, never, never

Will be slaves.

Burn it.

Burn the f***in' lot.

Don't stand there moping.

What are you doing?

Burn everything!

Molly O'Boyle, my arse.

Who the f*** left Danny Boy

out in the sun?

Hey, Jacko, you lazy bugger.

I told you to bury that bastard last night.

He stinks worse than you.

Jacko.

You got the wrong f***in' black man.

Slowly now, Sergeant.

Put your privates back in your pants

and turn around.

Come to steal my brother a horse

and we find ourselves a copper.

You fire that gun,

you'll have eight more all over you.

Fair enough.

Step into the shade, Sergeant.

To the back.

Has... has Charlie found you, then?

Stanley's little mate.

Over there.

By the straw.

Good boy.

That's right.

Stay. Lay down, Sergeant.

- Hey, hey. Come here.

- Lie down.

I know something you don't know.

Hush now, Sergeant.

- Hey, hey, hey.

- Hush.

Your brother's come to kill you.

- I can help.

- You can help me?

Help... your... f***in'... self.

Steady. Come on.

Help... your... f***in'... self.

Help... your... f***in'... self...

copper.

Here's your knife back, you dog.

There's something

I want to tell you.

I've been having a dream...

most nights.

I've kept it from you.

But I don't suppose it matters now.

I'm in a room.

It's our bedroom, I think.

And...

I'm searching for something.

And then suddenly...

I feel a presence in the room and...

I stand up and I turn around...

and there in the doorway

is Eliza Hopkins.

And she looks frightful.

Her... her dress is all...

creased and torn...

and covered in blood, and her face, too.

All battered and bruised

and splashed with blood.

Martha...

But listen to this.

In her arms... she's holding something.

I... I... I can't see what it is...

because it's covered by her hair.

And then she walks towards me.

Very slowly.

And...

she hands me a tiny bundle.

And I look down...

and I see that it's a baby.

A newborn.

And this baby...

Oh, it's a beautiful baby, Morris.

And it... it opens its eyes.

And then... I feel a pressure on my hand

and I look down and I see

that the baby has taken hold of my finger

and it's squeezing it tight in its tiny fist.

Then I wake up.

But after I wake, it's...

it's the strangest thing.

I can still feel...

I can still feel the pressure

of that dream baby's hand

on my finger.

What do you think of that?

That's the boy. Good boy.

Nice and tight, eh? Right.

Up we get.

Oh, no. I wouldn't try that if I were you.

Ligatures and knots

are one of my many talents.

And it appears

that you are singularly bereft

in any talents whatsoever, Mr Burns.

To be speared by a savage.

How extraordinarily quaint.

Easy, Mr Burns.

I was drunk.

You only got me because I was drunk.

Well, I'm not drunk now.

I'm on the job now.

Not a bad day's work either.

What is an Irishman...

but a n*gger turned inside out?

Now...

We're going to sit down...

Charlie!

On this log.

Nice and easy, Mr Burns.

There.

I really should stop saving

your life, brother Charlie.

Come on! Come on!

All things considered.

"There's night and day, brother."

"Both sweet things."

"Sun and moon and stars,

all sweet things."

"Likewise... there's a wind on the heath."

"Life is very..."

"sweet, brother..."

"Life is very sweet... brother."

"Who would wish to die?"

George Borrow, I believe.

A worthy writer.

And a beautiful sentiment, sir.

But you're not my brother.

Finish him.

Oh, dear.

This may hurt.

Why can't you ever just...

stop me?

They're hanging Mikey

come Christmas Day.

When's Christmas, Charlie?

I have some riding to do.

Brother!

Where did you get it?

I'm a very resourceful woman.

I never doubted it for a moment.

Look real good, missus.

Thank you, Tobey.

And...

And look.

Snow.

Ho, ho, ho.

Ho, ho, ho.

- Who is it?

- Dr Bantrey.

Are you alone?

Yes.

Then you may come in.

It doesn't look good, Morris.

The boy is dying.

Nothing I can... do.

Sure is pretty.

You can never get your fill

of nature, Samuel.

To be surrounded by it is to be stilled.

It... it salves the heart.

The mountains, the trees,

the endless plains.

The moon, the myriad of stars.

Every man can be made

quiet and complete.

Even the lowliest misanthrope

or the most wretched of sinners.

What's a misanthrope, Arthur?

Some bugger who f***in' hates

every other bugger.

Hey, I didn't ask you,

you black bastard.

He's right, Samuel.

A misanthrope

is one who hates humanity.

Is that what we are - misanthropes?

Good Lord, no. We're a family.

"Adieu," said the bird

in the branch of a tree

"Farewell," said the snake

to the dying light

"Adieu," said the fish

in the river of sleep

"Goodbye," said the rider,

"Goodbye and goodnight"

"No," said the stars

to the moon in the sky

"No," said the trees

that started to moan

"No," said the dust

that blinded his eyes

"Yes," said the rider

and pointed his gun.

Best you go now, Tobey.

Tobey.

Merry Christmas.

Merry Christmas, Captain.

Prisoner coming through!

Prisoner coming through!

Stand back, ladies and gentlemen,

this black fella bites!

Keep moving,

you murdering bloody bastard!

'Tis the jailhouse for you!

You led us a merry bloody dance

for many days,

but alas for you,

you dirty mongrel, we've got you!

How am I doing?

You're doing just fine, Sergeant Stoat.

Keep moving,

you dusky devil. Don't lag.

And keep your lustful eyes

to the ground, you lecherous dog,

or I'll whip the filthy

black hide right off you!

Good morning, miss.

What's happening?

I don't know.

It must be some of Lawrence's lot.

Oh, sh*t.

Mikey. Mikey.

This one's pissed himself.

Help!

Where are the keys,

you bastards?

The f***in' keys.

Please. Oh, God. Oh, please.

Mikey?

Mikey.

Mikey. Mikey.

Will you shut him up, Charlie?

Mikey! Mikey!

Mikey! It's Charlie.

Two Bob.

I think the job's f***ing done.

Two Bob, you f***in' yellow dog.

Come on, sons of b*tches, get down.

- Arthur!

- Arthur!

I'll see you at the good Captain's.

We'll save the best till last.

Get!

Stand back.

Get!

You look grand, Samuel.

Well... we're going visiting.

That's right.

It's all your fault, Charlie.

You should never have left us.

Would you like me to carve?

No. No, no, no. I'll carve.

Finest bird I ever 'ad, ma'am.

Made with my own fair 'ands.

Thank you.

For what we are about to receive...

may the Lord make us truly thankful.

Amen.

Amen.

Merry Christmas.

Merry Christmas.

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