Original subtitles

I'll have you know, my uncle is the President.

And when he finds out about this...

He will indeed be most upset.

Because when we send your headless body back to the White House,

it will be wrapped in the flag of England.

And Emperor Napoleon

will rejoice as your countries once again

go to war!

(ALL LAUGHING)

(NICOLE SCREAMS)

(JACK LAUGHS)

I would have knocked, but my fists had other plans.

Hey.

You won't be needing these, monsieur.

Who are you?

No time for introductions, Miss,

but if you ever wanna see the good old US of A again,

you'll come with me.

(NICOLE GASPS) What now?

Sing!

(SINGING FRENCH NATIONAL ANTHEM)

Whoa.

(SOLDIERS SINGING)

Say, what's your dress size?

Kill him, you idiots!

How dare you!

What I mean is, how much do you weigh?

Ah, the heck with it.

(SCREAMING)

What did you say your name was?

Stiles, Miss. Jack Stiles.

Jack, how can I ever repay you?

Oh! I'd say you're off to a pretty good start.

(KNOCK ON DOOR)

Beat it, turkey. I'm in the middle of some thanksgiving.

THOMAS: Open the door, Jack. It's Thomas Jefferson.

The President. Your uncle!

It's about time he found out I'm not a little girl anymore.

Are you out of your mind?

THOMAS: Jack, what's going on in there?

What can he do to us?

Oh, for the love of God, the man wrote the Declaration Of Independence.

He can always finish it with, "Except for Jack." Now, get going.

Mr. President, what a wonderful surprise.

May I take your wig?

Jack, I came to congratulate you on a job well done.

Well, I aim to please, sir.

Good, because I'm reassigning you.

Undercover, this time.

No kidding. Where to, Mr. President?

Paris? London?

Palau-Palau.

(STAMMERING) Pull out of who?

A small island in the East Indies.

Napoleon's sent one of his governors there to colonize the area.

Oh.

Listen, Jack, Napoleon's hell-bent on taking over the world,

and Palau-Palau is his first stop.

You wouldn't wanna be speaking French

for the rest of your life, now, would you, Jack?

Oh, all those silent X's?

My throat hurts just thinking about it, sir.

Good man. Pack everything. You'll be gone forever.

Or at least until Napoleon's six feet under.

Gee, I can't thank you enough.

Your contact will meet you when you arrive and explain your cover.

The fate of the free world rests in your hands, Jack.

Good luck!

Oh, and Jack?

Touch my niece,

I'll have George Washington chop off your cherry tree.

Luckily, I don't have a cherry tree.

(SINGING) In 1801, the Revolution had been won

And Uncle Sam's favorite son

Had a job he needed done

Which brought Jack to a lady

Both beautiful and smart

Who found his mix intriguing

A scoundrel with a heart!

From the Halls of Montezuma

To the shores of Tripoli

There was never a leatherneck braver

A daring dragoon is he!

He'll halt the bold advance

Of Napoleon's attack

There ain't a French or pirate rogue

Who don't know Jack!

From the Halls of Montezuma

To the shores of Tripoli

Sailin' 'round the bloody world

To defend democracy

And when ya need a fightin' man

To trust or watch your back

Just ask the bloke right next to ya

Damn right!

It's Jack!

Oh, whoa!

Slow down there, Daddy-o.

Hey, who's your little friend?

Give him back, he's mine!

(GROANING)

Bad man.

Somebody sterilize that kid.

EMILIA: The Daring Dragoon.

Much as I hate to say it, Miss, you've got the wrong guy.

Not you, the doll.

The Dragoon's a local folk hero, a myth.

Say, your English ain't bad.

Perhaps because I'm English.

Ha, thought I recognized the accent.

Listen, I hope you're not still upset

we told your King where to stick his crown.

I'd hate to have politics come between us.

My dear Mr. Stiles,

you're going to have to comport yourself

if you're to be my personal attaché.

Hey, how do you know my...

Whoa, whoa, wait a minute. You're my contact?

Emilia Rothschild.

Yes, I'm a woman. Get over it.

Whoa, sister, let's get one thing straight right now.

I take my orders from the President.

THOMAS: Jack, shut up and do what the lady says, T.J.

That's what I get for voting.

EMILIA: Here we are.

(EXCLAIMING)

Say, not bad. The King pays his spies well.

I'll have you know, Mr. Stiles,

that everything you see here has been purchased

with profits from my export enterprise.

Your cover will be your livelihood as well.

So, tell me, is there a Mr. Stick-in-the-mud?

Indeed there is.

If you'd like to meet him, just walk six blocks north to the local cemetery,

plot six A, and do bring some flowers.

He was a Frenchman.

You see, my husband and I shared a burning contempt for Napoleon's imperialism

and we established ourselves here to build our cover.

Sorry. He seemed like a swell guy.

Let me show you where you'll be staying till you get on your feet.

It's an illusion, Mr. Stiles. Come through.

Me without my marshmallows.

A simple trick of smoke and mirrors.

It's kind of clever.

Come along.

Welcome to my laboratory.

(EXCLAIMING)

Wow.

What, are you like a mad scientist or something?

Only mildly irritated. Don't touch anything!

(GROANING)

What the hell is this thing?

It's a breathing apparatus.

Well, it's not frigging working.

(GROANING)

Watch the hair.

I've had my laboratory soundproofed,

so we can safely discuss our missions.

And this is where you'll be residing. Oh.

So, if I were to, say, have company over in the wee hours,

you'd snore right through it, eh?

I suppose so, in theory.

However I didn't think I'd find it necessary

to point out this is a secret lab.

Well, that's fine by me. I've never been one to kiss and tell.

Oh, all right.

At least we'll have each other.

Mr. Stiles, we may as well clear this up right now.

You will never find our bodies occupying the same horizontal plane.

To put it another way,

you will never know the sensation of my tongue

exploring your forbidden nether regions.

In other words,

we will never stare lazily at the ceiling

after a night of slow lovemaking

and pondering the meaning of the word "Happiness."

Have I made myself perfectly clear?

Yeah.

Well, who asked you?

Now, then, the mission.

EMILIA: An infantry of French soldiers

arrived shortly before you did.

No doubt, the Governor plans to give them their attack orders.

I've arranged for tea with him this afternoon.

We must find those orders before the soldiers set sail

and warn their intended target.

Now, remember.

At the appropriate time, you will excuse yourself

and search the Governor's study.

Right. We must find those orders.

Poise, Mr. Stiles.

Poise and grace.

I think a little to the left...

Just a pinch more.

Madam, what a delightful surprise.

Tell me, what do you think of my family portrait?

It just arrived from France.

No artist could ever capture the complexities of a man

such as yourself, Governor Croque.

Say, who's the munchkin?

That is my brother, monsieur.

And the supreme Emperor de France, Napoleon Bonaparte.

Your Governorship, please excuse my new attaché.

He is unschooled in the ways of diplomacy.

He is rather minute, my brother, is he not?

Are you kidding me? The real question is,

where does he stash his pot of gold?

(ALL LAUGHING)

I beg your pardon, Governor, but it seems that vandals

have once again desecrated the town walls

with the symbol of this Dragoon.

Oh, let them.

The Dragoon is an ancient fairytale,

and who would we be to deny the people

their last vestige of hope?

Say, Gov, where do you keep your porcelain throne around here?

This mansion has a hundred bathrooms, Monsieur Stiles.

(SNIGGERING) You must get a lot of reading done.

Governor, I thought we might take this opportunity

to discuss the renegotiation of my exporting license.

What a splendid idea.

Okay.

Poker?

I hardly even know her.

Hey.

Look, nudie cards.

Jack! What?

They're looking all over for you,

and you're in here playing with yourself.

This is not my fault. You gave me a bum steer,

'cause I checked everywhere and there are no orders.

But that hardly gives you license to loiter pornographically

in the Governor's study!

(KNOCK ON DOOR) Nah.

BROGARD: Monsieur Stiles, if that is you in there,

breaking into the Governor's study

is a crime punishable by death!

Let's see your American ingenuity get us out of this one, Mr. Stiles.

Say, what color is your underwear?

Not this again. Will you let me explain?

(DOORKNOB RATTLING)

Monsieur Stiles.

Governor, there is an intruder in your study.

Break down the door at once!

You, break it!

(GROANING)

At least have the decency to turn away.

Sheesh.

Hey, maybe this job ain't so bad, after all.

Save me, it's the Daring Dragoon!

This cannot be.

Yet here I am,

plain as day and black as night.

To take a beautiful woman hostage,

this is the act of a coward, sir!

Oh, tell me what a brave man would do and I'll do it.

He would fight to the death!

(LAUGHING)

Be careful what you wish for, Richelieu,

I'd hate to embarrass you twice.

What is it you want, monsieur?

We the people of...

Where are we again?

Palau-Palau. Palau-Palau,

in order to form a more perfect island,

demand an end to French imperialism,

a three-day workweek

and a comprehensive dental plan.

Kill him!

(JACK LAUGHING)

Shame, shame.

I'll be confiscating these.

After him!

Quickly, quickly.

Up, you idiots. Up.

Huh?

Who's your daddy?

(MEN SHOUTING IN FRENCH)

Please don't punish yourself, Captain.

If it hadn't been for your quick reflexes,

I might have taken my last breath.

Unfortunately, madame, my reflexes were not quick enough.

(GRUNTING)

Say, what's with him?

Monsieur Stiles, you have just missed all the excitement.

It seems the Daring Dragoon is indeed quite real.

You don't say?

There he is!

Just kidding.

You little monkey.

(LAUGHING)

We were great.

You, with that "Oh, save me" routine.

You should be very proud of yourself. Oh, yes. Of course.

What woman wouldn't be proud to perpetuate the myth of helpless female?

It's what we do best.

Hey, if I have to pretend to be your attaché all day long,

the least you can do is pretend to be my helpless victim once in a while.

Oh, once in a while?

Do I take that to mean you intend on making a habit

of wearing my undergarments on your head? Oh, now who's sexist, huh?

Don't I have a right to get in touch with my feminine side?

My feminine side.

It's the perfect front, Em. Croque said it himself.

The people need a hero,

and we need a way to kick derriere without blowing our cover.

Thanks to you, every French soldier in Palau-Palau is on alert.

You've made our job twice as hard.

And do not, do not call me Em.

Tomorrow at dawn, I will dispatch a letter to your president,

requesting that you be replaced.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a mission to finish.

Oh, you know what, you're cracked.

Because the Governor's orders are on that ship

even as we speak.

Oh, yes. Well, if you'd done your homework,

you'd realize that in the interest of secrecy,

French captains don't open their orders

until their ships have set sail!

Oh. Well, la-de-da. How do you propose to get on that ship

when it's surrounded by soldiers?

What do you care? You've been relieved of duty.

Save your breath, sister, I can relieve myself.

(MEN CHATTERING IN FRENCH)

(EXCLAIMING IN FRENCH)

(WHISTLES)

(LAUGHING)

What are you doing here?

Making sure you don't screw up the mission.

All right. Get out of here. I'll hold them off.

Oh!

So, we meet again, Mr. Fancy Sword

and his flowing cape.

Give me some credit, will you?

You know how hard it is to wear this thing and still look dashing?

You may have been fortunate enough to best me once, monsieur,

but luck is a fickle friend that serves no master.

What the hell are you talking about?

You little devil, you've been practicing.

So kind of you to notice.

Tag. You're it.

(LAUGHING)

Must be half time.

Well, I'd love to stay and chat,

but I'm allergic to lead.

(SAIL RIPPING)

(WHOOPING)

JACK: What a waste of time. The ship's just gonna get new orders.

No, it won't. It's already set sail.

You mean, you didn't even get what you came for?

Well, technically, I didn't steal their orders.

I merely substituted one mission for another.

You've been holding out on me.

In roughly six months, the ship will find its port somewhere off the South Pole.

A boatload of French-cicles. Why didn't I think of that?

Well, I guess it was too much to expect for a Brit

and an American to partner up, huh?

Yes, I suppose so.

Hmm.

Well, so long, sister.

It's been revolutionary.

Jack.

I may not approve of your methods,

but your heart's in the right place

and I do owe you a debt of gratitude for saving my life.

So, if I were to send another letter to Mr. Jefferson

asking for your reinstatement,

would you consider it?

No need.

I got your first letter right here.

You went through my mail?

Well, I knew you'd change your mind about me.

Mr. Stiles, may I speak to you in the soundproof lab, please?

You're gonna yell at me. Now!

Mr. Stiles.

Out of the frying pan into the fire.

Okay, I gotta get some marshmallows.

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