[first lines of episode 1.6]
Dave Blassingame: Now come on, dog. Don't mess with them cats. With the luck I've been havin', they probably belong to the sheriff.
Libby: Mr. Smith, you are in liquor!
Burgundy Smith: Ohhh, evil companions, my dear, pressed it upon me.
Dave Blassingame: Oh, Miss Libby, are you-are you acquainted with this reptile here? Reptile, I s...!
Libby: No, David, please, no violence.
Burgundy Smith: Don't I... yes, yes, I believe I do. I know this miserable cinnamon slip. His name is Dave Blassingame, bless my immortal soul.
[Dave is distracted by the sounds of his dog chasing three cats around Mark's general store]
Libby: I asked if you and Mr. Smith were acquainted?
Burgundy Smith: Ah, he's lost his power of speech - a sure sign of incipient brain failure. Come, my dear.
Dave Blassingame: Smith, you're lookin' at a man in love. I mean, the cow jumped over the moon and I'm ridin' on that self-same animal. Smith, it is somthin' so good, I want to holler, I want to jump... ah, Burgundy, you oughta try it. You got to. Now just look at me.
Burgundy Smith: You're-you're a mountain spring. You're a budding tree. You're a creature without wool. A thing of splendor.
Dave Blassingame: Well said, Smith.
Burgundy Smith: Thirty dollars?
Dave Blassingame: Give me some of that sweet oil, will ya?
Burgundy Smith: Three dollars and four bits. Where's the rest of it?
Dave Blassingame: That's it.
Burgundy Smith: Three dollars and four bits?
Dave Blassingame: You can take it all, Burgundy, with my blessing.
Burgundy Smith: What good is this amount going to do me?
Dave Blassingame: You can go get drunk - it might kill the pain when they beat on you.
Burgundy Smith: You really earnest about gettin' married?
Dave Blassingame: I am, I am.
[Burgundy groans and church bells start to ring in the background]
Dave Blassingame: Listen! Won't be long now, they'll be ringin' for me.
Burgundy Smith: Blassingame, think! No more the joy of dollar liquor trickling down your parched throat - she'll put a stop to that. No more the joy of thrusting yourself into the maw of chance. She'll have you tied, boy - apron string and plow. She'll make you quit everything you enjoy - even other women!