All language subtitles for The.Great.S01E07.720p.WEB.H264-TRUMP

The raw power of art...

Once your mind fires, your heart's moved.

Ideas open, and the warriors
are the people themselves.

You can cut a man's head off,
or you can change what's in a man's head.

Do the latter,
you have a warrior for your cause.

Do the former, you have...

a head with a lot of blood
pouring out.

Sometimes I'm so fucking clever,

I have to take a breath
not to become dizzy.

Fuck me.

This is bold,
and fucking intense on the eyes.

Prometheus is bound for eternity

as a vulture snacks on
his regenerating liver.

And what did this idiot do to deserve it?

He is a revolutionary.
He gifted his people the arts.

Didn't I just do that?

It will turn out much better.
He made some mistakes, as well.

Let us move to the next.

I do like the idea of my liver
regenerating, though. Mm.

Mm. Mm!

It is a spectacular new collection.

Look at the court.

Are you sure this is working?
I see a few people weeping.

Indeed. Happily.

Happily?

Weeping is for sad people,
and very terrified ones.

Sometimes one can be so moved
by what they see,

their eyes explode from the joy of it.

Remarkable.

Everybody gather 'round.

To this art...

my wife...
and the new court.

Thank you for your patience

as I become the me I wish to be.

I hope to have you weeping
by the end of the day.

What do you think of the art?

I think it looks fine,

and is feeling quite pleased with itself.

I've never seen him like this.

He's excited. Passionate.

It's all thanks to you.

To us. We are changing
this place together, don't forget.

Catherine, Voronsky,
you're missing the fun.

Grab a drink and come be with me.

Thank you.

Fucking paintings.

Who knew?

I am not the Emperor's
favorite person at present.

Yes, you ruffled his feathers.

I'll win him back.

I commend you your resilience.

What is this abomination?

I think it means sometimes you get off
on odd things, and that's okay.

Good Lord.
Oh, please.

I once walked in on you when I was young,
having peacock feathers

inserted into your arsehole
by Lady Svenska.

I was young. God had not yet
found me and set me right.

She is changing this place.

It's just paintings.

Art has power, and she knows it.

The Church has used it to tell the truth
for hundreds of years.

New truths?

No such thing.

Good luck with the Emperor.

I hope it's not un‐pheasant.

Oh, come on. That was a good one.

I heard about the soldier.

You all right?

I don't know.

I am alarmed by how easy it was.

What is strangest is I feel unlike myself.

But also never more like myself.

Tends to happen the first time.

Then it stops?

Then you learn the best way
to numb it a little.

Whiskey, or vodka?

I don't drink.

You didn't kill, either.

Vodka.

Cheers.

Here is my idea,

but let us begin with
the applause it will deserve.

Brilliant. It is an ideas box.

People may have ideas or thoughts
that they feel they need to express.

Sometimes they are rightfully awed by me

and can but stutter and bow
when they talk to me.

But now...

You want people to write their ideas.
Mm‐hmm.

Anonymously.

So you won't know who it is.

Genius. Humph.

It is my idea, this box.
No one has ever had it.

Maybe I will not be Peter the Great.

But perhaps I can be
Peter the Great Idea.

Rich!

Why is that funny?

Indeed. I'd be fascinated to know.

Now please, sir. Illuminate us, Arkady.

It's genius of the Emperor.
I will lead the applause.

You're sucking up, Archie.

I am.

Continue.

Excited for phase two?

I am. You are very sexy
when you talk in phases.

Thank you.

I'm nervous. But imagine.

You imagine. I merely help out after.

Empress, this is men's things.

Your gift came,
and I could not wait to give it to you.

Aah!

A fig press!

It is a printing press!
It's a printing press!

But we banned them. Didn't we?

- We did.
- A while ago.

We have not reconsidered recently.

I give this gift to my dear husband,

for he is printing a new Russia

from his brain, and ever‐expanding heart.

We did outlaw them, but‐‐
Please do not refuse me

my desire to make you happy.

With it, we can liberate the people,

with free speech for all.

You could do a newsletter.

Tell them of our latest battle victories.

Which are none, by the way,
you fat fuck, Velementov.

It doesn't just do words.

Pictures, too. Anything you would like.

Fuck me.

It is a bear in a crown. I am the bear?

This is very good.

- Grigor, you must look at this.
- He does not have to.

We can print one for him, also.
For everyone.

Amusing, indeed.

However, I must say‐‐.

Everyone could stand in the halls
laughing and praising me in bear form.

More joy from their Emperor.

Absolutely.
Huzzah, wife. I am pleased.

Hopefully it juices figs, as well.

If you put them there, I'm sure‐‐
ARCHIE: Forgive me, Emperor,

but the use of the printing press
has always been reserved for the Church.

Perhaps something the Empress
has forgotten.

So, Archie, what you're telling me is
you're strongly opposed to it.

Yes. I am.

Excellent. It stays. Set it up.

Go and trim your beard, Archie.
You're of no use to me today.

Everyone out.

Except you, wife.

Aah. This pleases me.
And my box pleases me.

Art pleases me. Science pleases me.

You please me.

Only this morning, I was thinking about
the time I was planning on killing you.

Did I ever tell you about that?

Not directly, but I had a sense.

Mm. A small carriage accident.
Had the axle sawed and everything.

But now look at us. Working together.

Indeed. You are making a new Russia.

Your brain and heart expanding before me.

A changed man.

I wish to now also give you a gift.

How exciting.
We are curiously like‐minded.

Sit on the desk,
and pull up your skirts.

Oh, right. That gift.

Mm‐hmm.

Uh, what are you‐‐.

Oh...

Oh...

my.

Uh...

Stop.

What?

I, uh...

...don't know.

Hmm.

Mm.

This noise.
I've not heard it before. Good or bad?

Bad.

Good.
Well, huzzah!

Fucking huzzah!

Now, I told Aunt Elizabeth
how much help you'd been to me,

and she showed me this tongue trick
to use in thanks.

Huh. We really are doing well this week.

Yes. I must go.

Have a good afternoon.
Humph.

Catherine, my dear.

Something has happened.

Peter has shown you
my special tongue trick.

How can you tell?

The flush in your cheek.
The slight shock in your eye.

I remember the first time
it was used on me.

I was fourteen,

and my math tutor was endeavoring
to teach me simple addition.

It left me feeling truly wonderful.

And with a great respect
for the number 33.

I am confused.

I am very fond of Peter.

We are closer than ever.

But it is Leo who has my heart.

Well, I understand. He's quite supple,
incredibly charming, and...

no doubt pine‐scented when sweaty.

But if I am able to enjoy myself...

that much... with Peter...

Let me make one thing clear.

Where one's heart lies,
and who blows their lump

are two very different things.

Really?

I could make you come right here,
right now, if I wanted to.

So shall I?

No. No.

It is a generous offer,
but I think I understand.

What happened with Peter was physical.

Leo is the one for me.

I'm glad we sorted that.

Now, have a few sugar cubes
to restore your strength.

Did you hear about the press?

We will fill the court
with philosophy, poetry,

and the most marvelous ideas
from our favorite minds in Europe.

And even the Americas.

In no time, Russia will be a wonder,

and a powerhouse of thought and ideas,

unrivaled in the world.

You really are spectacular.

I want to embroider every word
you just said onto a cushion.

Emperor, a couple of things.

You're bold, coming near me
while I have a weapon.

I come not as a flawed man
but as Patriarch,

head of your 15,000 churches
and voice to the people.

I have some good news.

As Patriarch, I have doubled the tithes

we pass on to your royal self.

- Fuck me. That's a lot of money. Hmm.
- Indeed.

The bind between church and Emperor
is the scaffolding

that holds our unwieldy empire together.

I know.

It was more you were a lying prick
than a church problem.

I'm sorry, again.

All right, fuck. Stop crying.

Unless you're looking at art.
Then it's okay.

We all make mistakes.

This will be a regular amount of money?

Indeed.

Good.
Uh, one thing, though.

The raven, my fault.

The dream, I did not create.

God sent you that.

Fuck off, then. You're forgiven.

I'm off to do science.

He is a strange dog.

He's half a dog and some hair, really.

He is more than that.

He doesn't mind that I reek of piss,

and he kisses me when I like.

I could do that.

And I reek of piss, too,
so I, I, I wouldn't notice.

You ever been with a woman, Vlad?

Yes. Of course.
Not.

Not.

What are you‐‐
All this sassy talk.

Not bad.

Take your clothes off.

What?
Fuck it.

The Empress is at dinner.
It is your lucky day.

Oh, fuck.

What?

Your back.

Did you touch it?

No.
Good.

I should go back downstairs.
No.

No way.

Come with me.

Get in the cupboard. Quickly!

In...

Fuck.

You do not have to say it.
You are impressed.

Not really.

It is proof that he is changing.

That my coup of ideas is working.

Coup of ideas?

That is what I am calling it.
It is catchy, do you not think?

I think you've plagiarized
my original strategy,

and given it a cleverer title.

So in a way,
I am saying you were right.

Join me in this.

Together we can change this place.

When you asked me to do this with you,
you said you saw a bigger man.

Well, now I am bigger.

Huge, in fact.

I killed a soldier,
and I'm too tall for these corridors,

and I cannot go back.

I understand.

But look, Orlo.

The printing press. Art.

My idea works,

and will work better
with this bigger Orlo behind it.

The only thing this machine is proof of
is Peter's fickle nature.

Give him an hour,
and he will have turned his attentions

to sticking fireworks in his desserts.

Then should we not seize this moment?

Print and seed as many
vital ideas as possible?

Look at them, Orlo.
Oh. Indeed.

Now, uh, which vital idea
shall we focus on first?

Um, "The Gigantic Turnip"?

"Mikhail, The Erotic Tales
of a Russian Guard"?

Or Bykov's stroganoff recipe?

They are... a start‐‐
TATYANA: Empress.

Lady Svenska has discovered
the ink from the press

can be used to make us all
look like badgers. Would you like some?

No. Perhaps another time.

The lungs.

Human heart.

Human heart with a bullet hole.

Moving on to the spleen...

Aah! Wife.

Voronksy, just in time.

What is going on?

It is a surprise.
I call it... a science party.

I have assembled some of the finest brains
in the region to entertain us. Come.

Meet. Dr. Smirnov, and Nikolai.

Smirnov likes to shock people,
quite literally.

It is an honor, Empress.

He has come to show us
his electrical boy.

Do the thing.

More. Give it all you got,
electrocute him.

Is he all right?

He is fine.

He's fine.

Huh. To become a human magnet.
What an honor.

Hmm. Now, Chekhov's over there.
He'll show you the innards of humans.

And Yahontov will let you break wind
on a flame and watch it go up.

Hmm?

What is wrong?

It is science.
I thought it would excite you.

And it has.

So much so, I am stunned into stillness.

Oh.
Huzzah, husband.

You have taken my advice
and done something truly...

...striking.

Good. Now...

who would like to electrocute
young Nikolai again, hmm?

Leo?

Oh, I wish I could.
I'm, uh, fetching drinks.

Let's do it anyway. Humph.

May I talk to you about something first?

I suppose.

What happened to me this morning...

I think it would be best
if we do not mention it to Leo.

Mm.
It is a matter of manly pride, I think.

He perhaps is not as skilled in the area,

and could be put off.
I suspected as such.

Do not worry.
I will handle things lightly,

as I always do.

I need to speak with you. Urgently.

I will return.

The scrotum, dissected.

Madam Dymov.

It is spectacular, is it not?

All this change at court.

We have been reading all day
and are suddenly full of culture

and fun word japes.

Your new spot at the table, for instance.

A metaphor for how things are progressing
with the Emperor.

How else might we put it creatively?

You are a tray of old food
he has left outside his room.

A wig that has
lost its shape and been replaced.

And you are fucking bitches.

Witty. I will put that in my new book
of witty sayings.

Good afternoon, ladies.

Uh...
Oh.

I do not know them well,

but they seem quite terrifying.

They are harmless.
Just enjoying this new Peter.

And you are not?

He seems distracted,

as is the Empress, I'd imagine.

She has seen a change in him.

Wants to embrace it, even if it is
through gritted teeth at times.

Ah, Leo. Lost you.

I have something to share.

- Another experiment.
- In a sense.

I put on a tongue play for the Empress
this morning,

and fuck me, did she applaud,

stammer, and sing a little bit
with unbridled fucking joy.

I ate her pussy.

Oh, I see. You're speechless,
not uncomprehending.

Catherine has told me of your... issues.

Thought it best not to mention,

but then, if there is one thing
I have learned since my near death,

it is that knowledge is all.

You know it can be done,
and that I did it,

and now you may improve.

- Yes.
- Humph.

Huzzah. Very kind.

Anyway, we'll chat.

Perhaps we can print you up
a diagram later, hmm?

What was that you were saying
about the Empress and her gritted teeth?

Where is he?
The cupboard. I panicked.

Are you all right in there, Vlad?

Well...

I, I have pox, so... not great.

But, Em‐Empress, I'm s‐sorry.

There is nothing be sorry for.

We will help you through it.

You found the markings on his back?

You're sure it is the pox?

My mother died from it.

I will remember those markings
for the rest of my life.

How did you see them?

We were making the bed,
and his shirt f‐fell off‐came down.

Hmm. Strange.

Chekhov.

Empress.
Excuse the blood.

My servant has smallpox.
He is in the cupboard.

Excellent. Well done.

We can probably just
carry him outside in that,

- as it is wood, and it'll burn quite well.
- What?

There is an outbreak downstairs

in the servants' quarters.
We must deal with this.

It is the way they do it.
They burn them all. This is why I hid him.

We are not burning him.

Thank you.
What about treatments?

Nobility, we try, but servants...

Believe me, I know it is difficult to find

good service people,
but there will be others.

Not everyone dies from the pox.
You burn them all?

It is standard process.

No one is burning anyone. Treat him.

Let's push the cupboard into that room,
and shut him in there.

Now, can anything
be shot from a gun?

Let us see.

And... if it lives,

have we invented a new form of travel?

Hmm? Huh?

Huh. Huzzah!

I'm sorry.

I need to speak with you.

There's an outbreak of smallpox
in the servants' quarters.

Don't fret, dear wife.
We will quarantine them,

and burn them so the disease is destroyed.

They do not all die.

They do, usually. It's a big fire.

The disease does not kill all, I mean.

Oh.

The Empress has a novel idea, sir,

that the serfs should be treated
as the nobles are.

And why'd we do that?

It's risky enough that we treat nobles.

From what I understand,
this thing gets nasty.

It wiped out villages of thousands
in Siberia.

We must hit it hard
when it raises its head.

We cannot just burn fathers,
mothers, and children alive.

Yes, we can. They are serfs.

We cannot let an epidemic
loose upstairs,

if that is the Empress' suggestion.

What if we were to set up tents
in the grounds, far away from here?

The disease is known to either kill,
or pass in a few days.

Those who live will swear
eternal love and loyalty to us.

To repeat Tatyana's excellent point,
they are fucking serfs.

That's a good point, Grigor.

It is a savage disease.

Terrifying.

The pox ruined my dear cousin's face.

All right, everyone shut the fuck up
a moment. I'm thinking.

Jesus... Uh...

No. It's a no.
What?

Well, you told me to
listen to the people,

and they do not like your idea.

If I may, Emperor,
I think that's an excellent decision.

If I may, I will put your face
on my printing press and flatten it.

Shut up.

You can't just burn people. I beg you.

There must be a better solution.

There is not. Unless you have one.

Which you obviously do not.

I'm sorry.

Orlo!

I am drunk.

You don't drink.

Well, things are changing,
Empress Catherine.

Progress is being made.

I did not drink. Now I do.

I did not kill. Now I do.
I did not hope...

Oh. No. That is still the same.

Orlo, you must help me.

There is smallpox downstairs.

The Emperor insists we burn the serfs.

We must stop him.

He's said yes to so much so far.

I think if I can convince him
of an alternative...

Variolation.

Variol‐What?

Variolation.

Yes.

It, it is a way of helping your body
reject the disease,

used in some Asian countries
with some success.

But not here.

Why not?
The Church runs medicine.

Approves cures, licenses doctors,
everything,

and they do not agree with it.

I mean, it, it is radical,

but thousands are dying
in the regions, as well.

Help me.

I would like to, but I'm quite dizzy.

My bed spins.

In the morning, help me.

I am your servant.

I smelled the Empress.

- She was here.
- She just left.

Why does she like you?

You're a roach.

We were going to launch a coup
against Peter,

and take power for her.

It is funny when you think on it.

That sweet girl, the Emperor of Russia.

I know. Stupid idea. Stu...

Thankfully, she came to her senses.

Hmm.

Were you staring at me?

No, ma'am.

You were. Like you wanted me.

No, no. I was‐‐
I will walk on.

And do not even think of following me,

dragging me into a salon,
throwing me over a table,

and fucking the hell out of me.

Good God, do I have to make it plain?

Hold that thought.

Hello.

So pretty when you sleep. Always were.

Jesus. Don't do that.

Come with me.

They were scattered about this morning.
Velementov, me, Catherine.

It is just fun.

Also a pamphlet entitled
"Who is Fucking Your Wife" has appeared,

'causing much ruction.

Funny.
Mm, perhaps.

Oh, come on, Aunt.
You of all people love a bit of fun.

A bit of chaos.

At a party, yes.

As a tone for court, it is worrying.

I'm a new kind of leader.

I allow a certain amount of freedom.
People enjoy it.

Have fun. Feel grateful. Feel love.

Feel love? Look.

Guy getting fucked by a donkey.
Brilliant.

It's you.

But it doesn't even look like me.

You're the donkey!

Oh, yeah.
Funny.

It is just fun.

Disrespect. Disdain for us.
It's not good.

But this way we also
see things like this.

We can judge the level of discontent.

See if it is just fun plays,
or actual danger.

Hmm. That is not without merit.

Huzzah. I will not ruin as after all.

I will remake Russia into my own image.

Stupid‐‐

When needed, we still show the court
who's in charge. Nick.

Huzzah.

What is with all the red things
you took in there?

Some say it helps. I don't know.

Not the reassuring type doctor,
are you?

She is clear.
You can tell me, you know.

You are clear.
Good.

I wish to ask you something.
It is about variolation.

It can teach the body to fight the pox.

Yes. In theory.

You introduce a little into the blood.

Seeing as it is a small amount,
it acclimatizes.

I must warn you, variolation is unstable,

and it will be difficult
to convince the people.

- But it could work.
- There has been some success.

Good. You will gather pus from the sick,

and we will go to the Patriarch
and the Emperor with our idea.

Let's go back. Gathering pus, I will do.

Throwing my career away
on an idealistic whim,

not as thrilled about.

You come and find me if your plan works.

Catherine. Empress.

This, this variolation thing.
It's going to help me?

Yes.

Sorry, Vlad.

It is for those who have not yet
contracted the disease.

But do not worry. Chekhov sees
an improvement in you already.

Your sores are not as pronounced.

If everyone has variolation,
then it cannot spread.

It will disappear.

My thoughts exactly.

You are smart.
My favorite thing about you.

Besides his looks.
Indeed.

Can I read one of your books about it?

You should rest.

It, it'll help me sleep.

Empress.

Can a queen not spontaneously give
the head of her church his own sermons,

printed for eternity by our own press?

She can.

But I suspect you do not.

Fine. You've caught me.

I was hoping they could act
as a symbol of sorts,

for how the new and old may work together.

I'm waiting on the next bit,

which is clearly the bit where
you need something from me.

So smart.

I've always admired that in you.

Still waiting.

Variolation.
No.

I was skeptical at first, also.

But it is quite remarkable.
And simpler than you may think.

You may bend the Emperor
with your printing press abomination,

but medicine? My decision.

Let's talk some more,

and lean on the fact you are smart,
and will see reason.

Have you broached this with the Emperor?

Not in full. But I shall.

So will I. Court is a mess.

Seems like a fertile time
to go back to what worked.

Archie.

Move.

Do not go‐‐.

Prick.

Can a man not eat his
fucking breakfast in peace?

No. I need to talk to you.

The head of your church has just been
forced into a footrace

with your unhinged wife.

Really? Who won?

Ah. You have seen this filth.

Yeah. Give these fuckers some freedom,
and they repay us with this.

I mean, it is funny and no real threat,
but still.

And mostly it is me fucking women
who lie on top of beds of starving serfs,

which I do not understand the point of,
as I have never done that.

A horse fucking me.

Why would he...

I was going to let it go,

but Elizabeth is concerned,
and your reaction shows me

perhaps we should find the fuck
drawing them, and have a word.

Draw a line across his throat
with a knife.

I will not have you upset.

There's also a heretical pamphlet
extolling the virtues of self‐pleasure.

Hmm.
A satanist has printed my sermons

replacing the word "God"
with the word "cock."

And several
calling for the Jews to be killed en masse,

as Luther called for when the Germans
invented the printing press.

Still others calling for the end
of the aristocracy.

Some woodblocks, some ink...
A nightmare is unleashed.

No.

So funny.

Brilliant! It's fine.

It's not fine.

Fuck!

Everyone is annoying with thoughts
and opinions today.

- My point exactly.
- Yours.

Yours.

You have allowed two viruses:

Freedom, the debauchery of ideas
and of image,

and chaos at court.

Feature this filth before you.

Are you actually still fucking talking?

I'm exercising my freedoms. Huzzah.

The smallpox. We must discuss it.

I'm eating raspberries, so must we?

Variolation.

We should consider it with open minds.

We will not consider it at all.

We treat the court, and then we do not
have to burn all the serfs.

If we can save our people,

our court from death, why would we not?

It's a good point.

Because we are God's creatures
to kill as He wishes.

Uh, what is it? This... vario thing?

You take a small amount of pus
from a victim, and infect yourself.

Your body learns the disease,

and resists it when exposed later.

You give yourself smallpox.

That seems mad.

Well said, Emperor.

And our research abroad
shows that it often kills,

and is known to cause outbreaks.

It is not perfect, but‐‐.

How will the Emperor convince his people
to swallow smallpox?

And when they die,
or outbreaks break out, what then?

We must lead them. That is how.

I had a vision of you.
To bring you here.

And I've often pondered why.

But today, I see clearly.

It was to bring forth a war.

A sweet‐smelling, beautiful woman

that hid a devil that meant to destroy us,

so that we would heed
God's call to rise up,

and cleanse Russia.

That's just fucking mad.

All I am talking of is science.

Infecting us with smallpox
is not science.

Throwing a dog off a roof is science.

But she's not the devil, Archie.
You both need to calm the fuck down.

Know this.

The Church will not support an Emperor

who turns his back on God.

For he is lost, and Russia with him.

You're threatening me.

Facts are not threats.

They're just facts.

Do not listen to him.

You must do this‐‐
Just leave me be a minute.

I‐‐
What did I say? Get out!

Oh, hello.

I shall join.

No, I am...

I need the room.

I've been riding.

Pulled a muscle.

What's wrong?

Our status at court slips.

He and I are closer than ever.

We're fine.

If you never fucked him again,
how would you be?

Do not speak like this.

What, you mean say things out loud?

I have lost him.

He has not touched me in weeks.
Do you not see that?

You won.

You mean, we won.

Yes. I meant we.

The Emperor requests your presence.

What have you done?

Since I last saw you?

Um, heard that the Emperor
made you come with his tongue.

Got angry, got jealous, got drunk.

Made art,
distributed it across the palace,

wandered out here, passed out asleep,
woke up to you,

and now feel slightly regretful
and slightly fucking pleased with myself.

How about you?

I'm trying to do something big.
You know that.

And your cartoons don't help.

Did you come?

Yes.

Good.

'Cause if you had not, my response
would be out of all proportion.

But now you did, I feel okay.

And if Marial sucked your cock,
would you lay limp?

I suppose I would not.

And do I have a choice to be in his bed?

You do not. This is our life.
You have grown close to him, then.

It perhaps got to me.

I love you.

You fucking... fucking idiot!

Nice of you to say.
The first bit. Less so, the second.

Fuck you.

Fuck you.

I miss you.

Know that I miss you.

The greater good.

I know. I'll remember.

You drew me fucking a horse.

It seemed a bit rough at the time.
I just sort of...

drank through the thought process of it.
Sorry.

No one will remember.

All I wish is to hold Russia in one hand,

and you in the other.

You have me.

I fear Russia is slipping.

Where are you going?

My sores are flat,
because I have flatpox.

The book says it is a fatal type.
I...

It's the one my mother had.

It's just a book. It doesn't know you.
You're tough.

I will go.

It is safest for you.

Vlad, I‐‐
Careful. Don't.

Thank you for kissing me.

It turns out timely.

What are you...

What has happened?

Dearest friends.

- Are you all right?
- Come in.

Everyone wants a fucking
piece of me today.

I just need you guys,
who don't want anything from me.

We are at your service.

Advice, companionship,
as I have always been.

And I.
Since we were children.

A bond that cannot be broken.

Drink.

George, lay on me.

Mm. I have not whiffed
your scent in weeks.

I'm hard as a rock instantly.

What is your trouble?

I give people art, science,
freedoms at court.

Everyone was happy.

Now these fucking cartoons
and smallpox have appeared,

which Archie says is God's sign of doom.

And Catherine wants me to
allow variolation.

What is that? It's sort of
like you drink a bit of vodka,

get a hangover,
but do not drink a bottle and die.

May I speak freely?

If you shift your ass up and down
my hard cock, you may.

I think it sounds ridiculous.

Hmm. So did I, when she told me.

Give yourself smallpox to avoid smallpox.

But she is smart.

Not smarter than you.

And an outsider.

Of course, but medicine evolves.

And the Church would rather
we died in a holy fashion than live,

and honestly that's a bit fucked up.

So you will line up to have
smallpox puss under your tongue?

Huzzah. Good point, George.

Who the fuck is going to do it, anyway?

Ah! I called for it.
See what the people think.

Ah. "We should ride horses
in the long hallway."

Brilliant.
Ha!

No. What is it?

Oh, it's... nothing.

Read it.

"Kill yourself."

"Kill yourself."

"Stop the war."

"Burn the serfs." "Burn the serfs."
"Burn the serfs." "Kill yourself."

Me fucking a donkey.
A donkey fucking me. Jesus Christ!

Fucking pricks. Ungrateful fucks.

I just keep thinking,
we were all so happy

before all this change
that Catherine brought.

Just musing.

I wanted to change.
And you have.

You are a ruler who tries things
for the good of his people.

Who has the courage to experiment.

And if they do not work, you have
the courage to admit you were wrong.

And go back to what did.

You should not be there.

And without a beak.
My friend's here.

The dead ones are on the right.

If he's still alive,
he may be sitting over there.

I'm collecting this pus for
you, for the variolation. Yes.

Vlad!

Vlad!

Vlad.

Vlad?

He just left hours ago.

You must get away from him, Empress.

You are right.
I am being foolish. Churlish.

I've written a variolation pamphlet.

We print it and distribute it
at court with its merits.

Are you okay?

Not really.

He's gathering everyone.
Why do you have a knife?

I'm going to cut something.

What are you doing?

Ah, I was looking for you.

We need a chat before I address the court
on new things.

What?
Fuck off, Orlo.

Now, I am sorry.

Look, we've had fun experimenting
with court and ways of ruling.

A couple of things, though.
The press is out of hand,

so everything must now be
officially approved by a committee...

Archie, Orlo, Arkady.

And unfortunately,
variolation seems ridiculous,

and no one will do it, anyway.

Why do you have a knife?
You cannot give in.

You can fight them.

I know part of you wants to.

I know it is disappointing,
but my wife or God is the choice.

I choose God.

Look, this is Russia,
not France or Germany.

Look, there is a way that Russia works,
that is‐‐

I know there is fear of the pox.
What are you doing?

I have just collected the pus
from Chekhov.

- What?
- But we can stop it.

If we place it in the bloodstream,
a tiny amount,

our body learns to accommodate it.

No, that's not‐‐
So it will not kill us.

It is not unlike freedom.

We absorb a small amount,

knowing it is not dangerous.

We are wise people.

We are exciting people.

We are interested people.
Get the fuck down,

and stop speaking.
The press freed us. Did it not?

And though it was hard to take
the sharp edges of free talk and thought,

it was exhilarating.

What the fuck are you doing?

What the fuck are you doing?

Stop! What is she doing?

Who will join me
in moving our country forward?

Did you just put pox on you?

You fucking idiot!
We cannot be scared.

Why would you do that?
Or we cannot progress.

Guards, help her.

Help her. Take her to her apartments.
Confine her.

Jesus Christ.

I feel fine. You can go.

Just tell me any change.

My heart is broken.

I meant fever, or rash.
I'm fine.

Are you just going to stand there?

I think that's best.

Fuck me! Fuck me! Aah!
Oh, God, I've missed...

this!
Harder! Aah!

Aah!

Marial.

Are you all right?

I feel fine.

And I'll do you next.

It is outlawed.

The last printed edict.

I found Vlad.

Is he all right?