Drake: All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity. But the dreamers of the day are dangerous men for they may act their dream with open eyes to make it possible. This I did.
Man: Hands up.
Drake: Enjoying yourself, pal?
Cutter: Oh, yeah, you're a comedian.
Sullivan: Nice warm welcome.
Cutter: They're both clean.
Talbot: My apologies. One can't be too careful.
Sullivan: I'm guessing you're Talbot.
Talbot: Mr. Sullivan, and Mr. Drake.
Drake: That's right.
Talbot: Do you have it?
Sullivan: Let's see the money first.
Talbot: Cutter. It's all there. Now let's see it. I'll need to authenticate it.
Drake: Of course.
Talbot: Silver, 16th century, Elizabethan design, inscribed with Sir Francis Drake's motto. Well, it appears to be genuine.
Sullivan: Well, of course it's genuine.
Talbot: If I may ask, how did you two come into this?
Sullivan: Does it matter?
Talbot: My client will be very pleased.
Drake: Hold on a minute - Sully, this is fake.
Talbot: I assure you, Mr. Drake . . .
Sullivan: Whoa, whoa, you are right. This is phony as a three dollar bill. What the hell are you tryin' to pull here?
Talbot: Perhaps I should be asking you.
Drake: This is bullshit. The deal's off, pal.
Sullivan: And you? You can tell your 'client' you blew it. C'mon, Nate. Let's get the hell outta here.
Talbot: You're not really in a position to negotiate. Now, give me the ring, take the case, and walk out of here like gentlemen while you still can.
Cutter: Do as the man says, son.
Drake: You're a thief!
Talbot: Well now, that's ironic.
Cutter: C'mon! Is that the best you got? This one's mine!
Man: Yeah, you and me.
Cutter: Why don't you have a go at me? Come on!
Sullivan: Oh man!
Drake: C'mon. No time to rest.
Man: What's this?
Drake: Hey there, big fella.
Sullivan: I got him! All right, quick, hit him.
Man: Nope, bad idea, granddad.
Drake: Damn it!
Man: Hey. You spilled my drink! Come on now, wake up!
Drake: Here, this one's on me.
Man: Get him, lad!
Sullivan: Is this a private party or can I join in?
Drake: Be my guest.
Man: Take 'em down.
Drake: Argh, man, this got outta hand in a hurry.
Man: Argh, damn it.
Sullivan: A little help if you're not too busy . . . Yeah. Thanks.
Drake: All done. Man, that is nasty.
Drake: Now, just . . . just gimme a second there, mate. Be right with you.
Oh God . . . okay.
Okay, ready for more.
Lay off the steroids, pal.
Sullivan: You okay in there? You hurt?
Drake: Just my pride.
Sullivan: Come on, let's go, Nate.
Here, we can get out the back.
Man: Stop them! I got the old geezer!
Sullivan: How's that for ya? Ready to go, kid?
Sullivan: Let's go.
Drake: Aww, crap.
Sullivan: Ahh damn it.
Cutter: Come here, come here. Typical bloody Yank, all talk.
Hey, ey, ey, ey . . . He's had enough. Haven't you, mate?
Don't. Stay down.
Kate: Hello, Victor.
Kate: Still wallowing in the gutter with your protege, I see. Not very dignified for a man of your age.
Drake: I shoulda known you'd be behind this.
Oh, careful now, wouldn't want you to melt.
Kate: Same cocky little shit. So fearless. I wonder what you're really afraid of. Not bullets, or blood, or broken bones. No, you get off on all this, don't you? Cheating death - or not.
Kate: Mr. Sullivan, I won't harm your precious boy. I merely want what's mine.
Drake: Gimme that back.
Sullivan: Oh, no!
Cutter: Shut up!
Kate: You fool!
Cutter: Oh, you're bloody welcome, your majesty.
Talbot: Marlowe! We have to get you out of here.
Cutter: Ah, come on. They were a right pair of assholes! What?