Not that one.
The next.
How am I to bear it when you are gone?
I am going only half a mile, Emma.
But great is the difference between
a Mrs. Weston half a mile away and a Miss Taylor in the house.
Dear Emma.
You have been a friend
and companion such as few possess.
A governess in office, but...
...little short of a mother in affection.
I wish you every happiness on your wedding day.
Poor Miss Taylor!
It's a pity Mr. Weston ever thought of her.
Papa, Mr. Weston is such a good-humored,
pleasant, excellent man.
He thoroughly deserves a good wife.
And you would not have had Miss Taylor
live with us forever when she might have had
- a house of her own. - "A house of her own."
Where is the advantage of a house of her own?
This is...
three times as large.
It's entirely unnecessary.
Poor Miss Taylor. Poor Isabella.
My sister married seven years ago, Papa.
You must be reconciled to it by now.
That was a terrible day.
It shall always be a matter of great joy to me
that I made the match myself.
Everyone said Mr. Weston would never marry again,
but I did not believe it.
Emma, you should not make matches or foretell things.
Whatever you say always comes to pass.
You must not make any more.
I promise to make none for myself, Papa.
But I must indeed for other people.
It is the greatest amusement in the world.
And after such success, you know.
Miss Bates. Mrs. Bates.
Miss Gilbert. Mrs. Cox.
Mr. Woodhouse, sir. Miss Woodhouse.
- Mr. Cole, Mrs. Cole. - Good morning.
M-Miss Woodhou...
M-Miss Woodhouse.
Morning.
Is this not the most happy...
happy, the-the most fortunate?
This morning, I could not get my bonnet on for trembling.
Hmm.
Surrounded by blessings.
Wanting for nothing.
I am trembling again.
It is too joyful!
What is it, Emma?
I have a fancy that Mr. Weston's son
- may surprise us. - Frank Weston?
He's Frank Churchill now, Papa.
He's his uncle's heir.
When he came of age, he took his uncle's name.
I so long to meet him.
But how do you know he might surprise us?
It is his father's wedding day.
Mr. Weston speaks of him so highly.
I cannot doubt that he will come.
Poor Miss Taylor.
Dearly beloved friends,
we gather here in the sight of God
to join together this man and this woman
in holy matrimony,
an honorable estate instituted by God
in this time of... of man's great inno-cence.
"Inno-cence"?
Innocence.
No?
Well...
Mmm.
Mother, you must eat. It is impolite not to eat.
I was just telling Mrs....
You know what I'm about to say, sir.
"Why do you keep a carriage if you never put it out?"
It's just such a shame to see it standing by.
A gentleman on foot--
- it's unusual. - Unusual.
Good evening, Mrs. Reynolds.
At last.
Mr. Knightley.
You must have had a shocking walk.
Not at all, sir. It's a beautiful evening.
You must have found it very damp and dirty.
Dirty, sir?
Look at my shoes.
Not a speck on them.
How do you do?
I came to wish you joy.
Joy?
Oh, the wedding.
What a terrible day.
So, how did you all behave? Who cried the most?
We all behaved charmingly.
Everybody was in their best looks.
Not a tear, and hardly a long face to be seen.
Bring the screen a little closer.
Mr. Knightley feels a chill.
And what of Mr. Frank Churchill?
Is he every bit as handsome
as his father promised he would be?
He did not come?
You see, he wished exceedingly to come,
but his aunt and uncle could not spare him.
Well, I dare say he might have come if he could.
I do not know why you should say so.
If Frank Churchill had wanted to attend his father's wedding,
he would have contrived it.
He... he chose not to come.
You've never met Mr. Frank Churchill.
We do not know what he is able or unable to do.
There is one thing, Emma, which a man can always do
if he chooses, and that is his duty.
It is Frank Churchill's duty
to pay this attention to his father.
He also has a duty to his aunt, who is unwell.
Mrs. Churchill has been unwell
for as long as she could say so.
Her nephew is not a doctor.
If he had told her simply and resolutely that he...
...that he must attend his father's wedding,
there would have been no opposition to his going.
You are the worst judge in the world, Mr. Knightley,
of the difficulties of dependence.
You've always been your own master.
You've no idea what it is to have tempers to manage.
I shall remember that next time you quarrel with me.
There is a new parlor boarder, Papa,
at Mrs. Goddard's school.
- Miss Smith. - There.
Distinctly.
Do you feel it? A chill draft.
A chill and sickly draft.
She's a natural child.
Nobody knows her parentage, not even Miss Smith herself.
Is that not mysterious?
Miss Taylor would have felt it.
The misfortune of your birth, Harriet,
ought to make you particularly careful as to your associates.
There can be no doubt of your being a gentleman's daughter.
You must support your claim to that station
by everything within your power.
Know you the Martins, Miss Woodhouse,
of Abbey Mill Farm?
I know that they are tenant farmers.
They rent their farm from Mr. Knightley.
They were ever so kind to me this summer.
Thank you.
When I went away, Mrs. Martin was so very kind
as to send Mrs. Goddard a beautiful goose.
The finest goose Mrs. Goddard had ever seen, she said.
The Martins are of precisely the order of people
with whom I feel I can have nothing to do.
A degree or two lower might interest me.
If they were very poor, I might hope to be
useful to them in some way, but...
a farmer can need none of my help
and is therefore as much above my notice as he is below it.
Mr. Robert Martin went
three miles one day to bring me walnuts
because he knew how fond I was of them.
I believe he's very clever.
He understands everything.
Come.
After tea, we shall call on my dear Mrs. Weston.
We promised we should be seeing one another every day.
It was a beautiful service, Mr. Elton.
I'm not the first to visit you this morning.
You are no less welcome for being the second.
Mr. Elton, Miss Harriet Smith.
It is my great honor.
Harriet, you must sit over there
so that you may admire the view of Enscombe.
Mr. Frank Churchill is the artist.
I have heard it described as
one of the finest houses in Yorkshire.
I have heard the same.
And Mr. Churchill is to inherit the entire estate.
He is very fortunate.
There is such symmetry between us.
We both lost our mothers when we were very young.
And he has his aunt to care for, as I have Papa.
But how can we admire a painted beauty
with such... loveliness before us in the flesh?
Mr. Elton is such a good-humored man.
So cheerful and obliging.
And gentle.
I think very well of Mr. Elton.
I do so wonder, Miss Woodhouse,
that you should not be going to be married.
So charming as you are.
I have none of the usual inducements of women to marry.
Fortune I do not want.
Employment I do not want.
Consequence I do not want.
I believe few married women
are half as much mistress of their husband's house
as I am of Hartfield.
You must come again tomorrow.
Thank you, Miss Woodhouse.
Thank you.
? I like to rise when the sun she rises ?
? Early in the morning ?
? I like to hear them small birds singing ?
? Merrily upon their laylum ?
? And hurrah for the life of a country boy ?
? And to ramble in the new-mown hay. ?
Miss Woodhouse, which do you prefer?
They are practically identical.
Of course, if the dark gets dirty, it would not show.
- But the light... - The dark, then.
The light is a good deal prettier.
Miss Woodhouse, what's the matter?
Miss Woodhouse.
How do you do?
And you, Miss Smith.
I saw you through the window.
Miss Woodhouse, I bring happy news.
We have had a letter this very morning
from my niece, Jane Fairfax.
I hope that she is well.
In normal course, she writes on a Tuesday, but today was...
Oh, her health.
Oh, Miss Woodhouse, you are so very kind to inquire.
Poor Jane. She was at Weymouth
with Colonel Campbell and, uh...
Oh, where is the letter?
Oh. Oh, it must not be far off.
Oh, such an unexpected...
Oh, it's on the glove stand.
It was with the gloves. It was with the gloves.
Yes, at Weymouth with Colonel Campbell
and his wife and Jane's dear friend,
Miss Campbell, who is recently married.
She's Mrs. Dixon now.
And, oh, dear, Mr. Dixon,
who is the most charming young man,
rendered to Jane a great service in recent days.
They were... Oh, too pretty. That is...
Yes, they were out in a part... oh, in a party on the water,
and Jane, by the sudden whirling around
of something or other in the sails,
would have been dashed to the sea at once...
...and actually all but gone.
But Mr. Dixon, with the greatest presence of mind,
caught hold of her habit and saved her life.
Oh, to think that poor Jane may have perished.
I cannot think of it without shaking, she an orphan.
I am very pleased that Miss Fairfax was not harmed.
How gratified Jane will be to know that she has
such dear, devoted friends.
Heaven forbid that I should ever bore anybody
half as much about all the Knightleys together
as Miss Bates does about Jane Fairfax.
One is sick of the very name "Jane Fairfax."
Every letter from her is read 40 times over.
And if she does but knit a pair of garters,
one hears of nothing else for a whole month.
It is Robert Martin.
Good boy.
- Miss Smith. - Mr. Martin.
- Lovely to see you, Miss Smith. - Goodbye.
Only think of our happening to meet him.
Well, Miss Woodhouse?
Is he like what you expected?
What do you think of him?
I had no right to expect much,
and indeed, I did not expect much,
but I had imagined him, I confess,
a degree or two nearer...
gentility.
To be sure...
he's not so genteel as to a real gentleman.
Mm-hmm.
I do hope Mr. Woodhouse is not ill.
Oh, no.
Oh, Papa sees Mr. Perry every day.
I know I disappoint him awfully.
I'm so seldom indisposed.
If he does not invent an illness for me,
I hardly figure in his letters.
Truly...
you are the very picture of good health, Miss Woodhouse.
Mrs. Martin thinks you the most handsome woman
in all of Highbury.
You must never flatter me in front of
Mr. Knightley, Harriet.
He thinks me vain enough already.
I do not think you personally vain.
Considering how very handsome you are,
you seem little occupied with it.
Your vanity lies a different way.
Did I tell you what Mr. Elton said of you the other day?
He called you...
..."loveliness itself."
It-it seems to me
his manners are rather softer than they used to be,
and I rather wonder whether he means
to ingratiate himself with you.
Morning, Mrs. Goddard.
- Good morning, Mr. Elton. - Girls.
Quickly now.
These are exquisitely done, Miss Woodhouse.
You have a charming talent.
I dare say there is merit in them,
in the least finished perhaps the most.
So Mr. Knightley tells me,
and he finds fault in everything I do.
Did you ever have your likeness taken, Harriet?
Oh... no.
What an exquisite possession a good picture of her would be.
It would indeed.
Let me entreat you, Miss Woodhouse.
Now, at once.
You have given Miss Smith...
all that she requires.
She was a beautiful creature when she came to you,
but the attractions you have added are
infinitely superior to what she received from...
nature.
It's depressing for me
- to have to take care of it, you know? - No.
- Well, quite. - Take over.
Mr. Woodhouse, your daughter's gifts
are without compare.
Bear witness.
Mm. You've made her too tall, Emma.
Uh, no.
No, certainly not too tall.
Not in the least too tall.
Mm, mm, yes. It is very... pretty.
When it is finished, you must have it framed.
Allow me.
Trust me with this commission, Miss Woodhouse,
and I will ride to London the moment I am asked.
It would be my great honor.
I cannot have a moment's doubt.
It is exactly as I planned.
He's in love with you.
I do not know what your opinion may be,
Mrs. Weston, of this great...
intimacy between Emma and Harriet Smith,
but I think it a bad thing.
How differently we feel.
Miss Smith knows nothing about herself
and looks upon Emma as knowing everything.
Her ignorance is hourly flattery.
But educating Harriet will be an inducement
for Emma to educate herself.
They will read together.
Emma has been meaning to read more
ever since she was 12 years old.
She never would submit to anything
requiring industry and patience.
I cannot allow you to be
a judge in this matter, Mr. Knightley.
You are so used to live alone,
you do not know the value of a companion.
Well, she always declares that she will never marry,
which, of course, means just nothing at all.
I should like to see Emma in love
and in some doubt of a return.
It would do her good.
? How firm a foundation ?
? Ye saints of the Lord... ?
Robert!
Master Knightley is here.
? Your faith in his excellent word ?
The day is wasting, Mr. Martin. Come along.
? What more can he say than to you he hath said ?
? You who unto Jesus ?
? For refuge have fled? ?
I'm really most obliged to you, sir.
I'd expected to wait until the spring.
Always buy out of season, Mr. Martin, whenever you can.
Mr. Knightley, sir, forgive my liberty,
but may I be so bold as to seek your advice?
Of course.
Miss Woodhouse!
You will never guess what has happened.
Robert Martin has offered me his hand.
He writes as if he really loves me very much.
Is it a good letter?
Or too short?
It is a very good letter.
So good I think one of his sisters must have helped him.
But what shall I say?
Dear Miss Woodhouse, do advise me.
Oh, no, no, no.
The words must be your own.
You think I ought to refuse him.
I lay it down as a general rule, Harriet,
that if a woman doubts whether she should accept a man or not,
she certainly ought to refuse him.
Perhaps... it is safer.
Do you think I had better say no?
Not for the world would I advise you either way.
You must be the best judge of your own happiness.
I have now...
quite determined...
...and really almost made up my mind...
...to...
refuse Mr. Martin.
Refused?
Then she is a greater simpleton than I ever believed her.
Harriet Smith refuse Robert Martin?
I...
I hope you are mistaken.
I saw her answer.
Nothing could be clearer.
You saw her answer?
You wrote her answer. This is your doing.
Emma, you persuaded her to refuse him.
Well, if I did, I should not feel that I had done wrong.
Mr. Martin's a respectable young man,
but I cannot admit him to be Harriet's equal.
No, indeed, he is her superior in both sense and situation.
Emma, your infatuation about that girl blinds you.
What are Harriet Smith's claims, either of
birth, nature or education, to any connection
higher than Robert Martin? She is the natural daughter
- of nobody knows whom. - There can scarcely be a doubt
that her father is a gentleman, and a gentleman of fortune!
Probably no settled provision at all, and certainly
- no respectable relations! - Her allowance is very liberal.
Nothing has been grudged for her improvement.
She is known only as a parlor boarder at a common school.
She is pretty, and she is good-tempered,
- and that is all. - That is all?
These are not trivial recommendations, Mr. Knightley.
Till men do fall in love
with well-informed minds instead of handsome faces,
a girl with such loveliness as Harriet
has a certainty of being admired
and sought after wherever she goes.
I am very much mistaken if your sex, in general,
would not find these qualities
the highest claims a woman could possess.
Upon my word, Emma,
to hear you abusing the reason you have
is almost enough to make me think so, too.
Better to be without sense altogether
than to misapply it as you do.
Men of sense do not want silly wives.
And more prudent men would be afraid of the inconvenience
and disgrace that they might be involved in
when the mystery of her parentage came to be revealed.
Let her marry Robert Martin,
and she is safe and respectable forever.
But if you teach her to expect to marry greatly,
nobody within her reach will ever be good enough for her.
Your plans for Harriet are best known only to yourself.
But as you make no secret of your love of matchmaking,
it is fair to suppose the plans you have.
And as a friend...
I shall just hint to you
that if Elton is the man that I think,
it will be your labor in vain.
He knows that he is a very handsome young man
and-and a great favorite wherever he goes,
but from his general way of talking
when there are only men present,
I'm convinced that he does not mean to throw himself away.
I'm very much obliged to you
for opening my eyes, Mr. Knightley,
but know that I am done with matchmaking for the present.
I only want to keep Harriet for myself.
It's so beautiful!
You certainly spared no expense.
? Hark, hark, what news the angels bring ?
- ? Glad tidings of ? - ? Glad tidings of... ?
...me to do all
- the disciplinary action to the children. - You must...
- It is utterly unfair. - You, it is your responsibility
and your responsibility to teach the baby to drink milk...
It is not only my responsiility.
...without spilling it all over my favorite trousers.
That is the nurse's responsibility, not...
Emma, they're here.
That was unendurable.
Husband, comport yourself.
- Papa. - Isabella.
Emma.
I shall always be sorry you went to the sea
this autumn instead of coming here.
But why should you be sorry, sir?
It did us a great deal of good.
On the contrary, Mr. John Knightley looks far from well.
Southend was strenuously recommended
by our physician, sir.
Sea air and sea bathing.
The sea is rarely of use to anybody.
It nearly killed me once.
Come.
I must beg you not to speak of the sea.
Makes me miserable.
And envious-- I who have never seen it.
Mr. Wingfield specified that Southend
was the best place to go for the family.
Perhaps you should change your physician.
He was recommended by my husband.
Cornwall might have been forgivable,
but Southend?
Let us be friends.
Aw.
Tell your aunt, little Emma, that she was very wrong
and she ought to set you a better example.
- Oh. - Wh...
- What is the matter? Is there fever? - Uh...
Uh...
Where is the nurse? Give her to me.
- Is she feverish? - I do not know.
I-I do not know. Wh-Where is the nurse?!
- Send for Perry. - Do not send for Perry.
Send for Perry!
As death follows life...
Mm.
Yes.
As... far as good intentions went, um...
...we were both in the right.
I must admit, I have not yet been proved wrong.
Mr. Knightley.
Was Mr. Martin very disappointed?
A man cannot be more so.
Miss Woodhouse is coming.
Miss Woodhouse.
Harriet!
Miss Woodhouse!
You're so, uh... disheveled.
I'm always ill at Christmas.
Get back in bed at once.
You'll miss the party at Randalls.
Mr. Elton will be there.
And Frank Churchill is expected at last.
And Mr. Elton's sermon.
A sermon on Christmas Day.
I transcribe them every Sunday.
I will transcribe it for you.
You are so kind to me, Miss Woodhouse.
Welcome!
Welcome, my friends!
Welcome!
Mr. Elton.
How's poor Miss Smith?
Oh, no better, I'm afraid.
Aw, such a sad loss to our party today.
Miss Smith has sent her apologies.
She will be missed every moment.
Ooh.
How are the children?
Multiplying.
My only moment's rest is in the office.
Frank has been detained at Enscombe, I'm sorry to say.
Oh.
I had a letter from him just this morning.
Mr. Churchill is to inherit the entire estate.
I have heard it described as one of the finest houses
in Yorkshire.
Going out in dismal weather
to return probably in worse.
Four horses and four servants taken out for nothing
but to convey five idle...
Another fine, flourishing letter
full of professions and falsehoods?
Your feelings are singular.
His letters seem to satisfy everybody else.
I suspect they do not satisfy Mrs. Weston.
Were she a person of consequence herself,
he would have come by now, I daresay.
You seem determined to think ill of him.
I should be as ready to acknowledge his merits
- as any other man, but... - I hear of none
except that he is well grown and good-looking.
Well, if he has nothing else to recommend him,
he shall be a treasure at Highbury.
We do not often look upon fine young men.
Cannot ask for all the virtues into the bargain.
You will excuse my being so much overpowered.
We are both prejudiced.
You against, I for him. And we shall have
no chance of agreeing until he is really here.
Prejudiced?
I'm not prejudiced.
Yes, but I am.
Very much, and without at all being ashamed of it.
My love for Mr. and Mrs. Weston
gives me a decided prejudice in his favor.
Charming Miss Woodhouse.
Mr. Weston.
Mrs. Churchill rules at Enscombe.
Ev-Everything...
gives way to her.
She has decreed that if Frank
does not marry a lady of some fortune,
then he will be entirely cut out from her will.
There is jealousy.
She is jealous even of his regard for his father.
Jealousy...
But she is so very fond of her nephew.
- He is her particular favorite. - Dear Emma.
Do not attempt, with your good nature,
to understand a bad one.
You must let it go its own way.
Uh, I have heard it described
as one of the finest houses in Yorksh...
Mm. What seasonable weather we're having.
I dare say we shall have snow tonight.
Snow? Tonight?
When did it commence?
We shall call for the carriage right away.
It has hardly begun-- barely an inch--
but it is falling fast.
It was snowing when your mother died.
Oh, Papa, I know. We shall get you home.
Well, what is to be done? Emma!
There is room for us all.
We have accommodation for all of you.
Absolutely.
The horses are in good condition.
I do admire your resolution, sir,
venturing out in such weather...
There's nothing we can do. It is snowing.
- Mrs. Weston, the party. - We should go at once.
Wh-Where is the carriage? Where is James?
Of course, fortunately, we do have more than one carriage,
so if one is blown over in the wind...
- Husband, please. - Happy Christmas.
I am so very sorry.
- We must leave. - I think we shall be very glad
that-that Frank did not come at Christmas.
Look to your vinaigrette, Papa.
Mr. Knightley, you must move your carriage.
- My father is not well. - Take it.
It is first and will be the fastest.
You will catch your death.
Your husband is not... is not strong.
I'll ride with you, then.
Evidently, I may not survive.
Oh.
Miss Woodhouse.
Mr. Elton!
I must avail myself of this precious opportunity
to declare sentiments which must be
- already well known. - Mr. Elton, please.
- You've drunk too much wine. - My ardent attachment.
Mr. Elton!
You forget yourself.
I am ready to die if you refuse me.
You take me for my friend.
Any message you have to Miss Smith,
I shall be happy to deliver.
For Miss Smith?
A message for Miss Smith?
I never thought of Miss Smith
in the whole course of my existence.
Never paid her any attentions but as your friend.
Never cared whether she were dead or alive
but as your friend.
Oh, Miss Woodhouse.
Who can think of Miss Smith when Miss Woodhouse is near?
Everything I have said or done for many weeks
has been with the sole view
of making my adoration to yourself.
Charming Miss Woodhouse...
...allow me to interpret this...
...interesting silence.
It confesses you have long understood me.
No, sir.
It confesses no such thing.
Nothing could be farther from my wishes.
Your pursuit of Harriet has given me great pleasure,
and I've been very earnestly wishing your success.
Miss Smith is a very good sort of girl...
...and no doubt there are men who might not object.
Everybody has their level.
Madam, my visits to Hartfield have been for yourself only,
and the encouragement I received...
Encouragement?
I give you encouragement?
You are entirely mistaken, sir.
I have no thoughts of matrimony at present.
- Driver, stop the carriage. - Mr. Elton, please...
Driver, stop the carriage!
? The water is wide ?
? I cannot get o'er ?
? And neither have I ?
? Wings to fly ?
? Give me a boat ?
? That will carry two ?
? And both shall row ?
? My love and I ?
? Oh, down in the meadows ?
? The other day ?
? A-gathering flowers ?
? Both fine and gay ?
? A-gathering flowers ?
? Both red and blue ?
? I little thought ?
? What love can do. ?
Miss Woodhouse.
He never loved me.
He loves you.
He sought to aggrandize and enrich himself.
Yes.
Harriet.
You might never have thought of him but for me.
I assured you of his attachments.
I contrived his visits to Hartfield.
I do not blame you, Miss Woodhouse.
I could never have deserved him.
And none but so partial and kind a friend as you
could even have thought it possible.
It's silly, really.
Harriet.
I cannot see it without thinking of him.
Burn the frame if you like, but you must keep the likeness.
Then I will take it.
I will take it, and I will treasure it
as a picture of my friend.
Goodbye, Papa.
Now, are we going to be quiet this carriage ride?
Sit next to your sister.
Why are you so pale?
Where is the baby? Where is the baby?
Where is the baby?!
Henry needs his mor-mor.
We must retrieve Henry's mor-mor.
I will not stop this carriage for a mor-mor.
Goodbye, Isabella.
Goodbye.
Papa.
I wish she would not leave.
You must never leave me, Emma.
Oh, Papa.
You know I never could.
He cannot stay away forever.
The curate cannot give the sermon forever.
No one preaches as Mr. Elton does.
Hear this extract, Miss Woodhouse.
Hear this.
Enough about Mr. Elton.
Miss Woodhouse.
Miss Smith.
Such news.
My niece, Jane Fairfax...
Miss Woodhouse, Jane Fairfax, she has...
Jane has surprised us. She is here.
Oh, do come along. We must have tea.
It is too thrilling.
She caught a bad cold. Poor thing.
So long ago as the seventh of November.
She has not been well since.
And her kind friends, the Campbells,
thought she'd better come home
and try an air that always agrees with her.
I hope that your father is well.
Very well. I thank you.
She is very sorry to be parted
from her dear friends, the Campbells.
And Mrs. Dixon.
And, oh, Mr. Dixon,
the most amiable young man who did her
so great a service at Weymouth in October.
I still shudder to think what might have...
if not for Mr. Dixon,
with the waves and the water and the sails.
Oh.
Such a charming man.
Oh, dear.
Is this not pleasant?
She plans to stay three months.
We must have you all to Hartfield.
Oh.
Oh, Mother, do you hear?
Miss Woodhouse has invited us to Hartfield!
Mother! You must sample the tart.
No, I do... I do... I do not advise the custard.
What do you say to half a glass of wine?
In a tumbler of water, naturally.
We shall be seeing Frank any day now.
I have... I have no doubt of it.
Oh, now, Jane, Mr. Frank Churchill
is a man much talked about in Highbury.
Is he not, Miss Woodhouse?
We are all very eager to meet him.
He was at Weymouth when Jane was there.
We are very little acquainted.
Frank Churchill was at Weymouth?
In October?
That was the month of his father's wedding.
But you must describe him.
Is he handsome?
Is he agreeable?
I believe he is generally thought so.
How well prepared this custard is.
I must ask your cook for the method.
? 'Tis the last rose of summer ?
? Left blooming alone ?
? All her lovely companions ?
? Are faded and gone ?
? No flower of her kindred ?
? No rosebud is nigh ?
? To reflect back her blushes ?
? And give sigh for sigh ?
? Oh, who would inhabit ?
? This bleak world alone? ?
Miss Fairfax.
Oh, what a pity you did not bring your music.
I hope I can recollect the tune.
Nobody in the world plays like you.
I'm glad you invited Miss Fairfax to play.
Having no instrument at her grandmother's,
it must be a real indulgence.
I am glad you approve.
But I hope I am not often deficient
in what is due to my guests at Hartfield.
No.
You are not often deficient.
You make it very plain you do not like Miss Fairfax.
Everybody supposes we must be so fond of each other
because we are the same age.
Ever since I can remember, I have been told I can find
no better companion than Jane Fairfax.
She who is so accomplished and so superior.
She is certainly accomplished.
Perhaps the accomplished young woman
you wish to be thought yourself.
Three months of doing more than I wish
and less than I ought.
That indifferent, imperturbable statue.
I must go.
Harriet.
Oh.
We have missed you.
Our mother's been asking for you.
Will you come and visit us again?
Of course.
Good day, Miss Martin.
Miss Catherine Martin.
Mr. Martin.
Miss Smith!
Th... The near way is flooded.
You would do better going by Mr. Cole's stables.
The ground is higher there.
You behaved extremely well.
And it is over.
As a first meeting, it cannot occur again.
You must stay no longer than a quarter of an hour.
And allow no dangerous reminiscences.
There must be no recurrence to the past.
I seek the village of Highbury, sir.
Over the bridge, left at The Crown.
You'll see the steeple.
Thank you.
Very much obliged.
Here we are.
- My dear. - Mrs. Weston.
My son, Mr. Frank Churchill.
- Miss Emma Woodhouse. - Miss Woodhouse.
He, uh... he's caught us quite by surprise.
Indeed he has.
There are not many houses in which I would
presume on so far, sir, but...
in coming home, I felt I might take the liberty.
We, uh... we had a plan
to walk to the village, Emma.
Will you join us?
I would be delighted.
Splendid.
Right.
I believe we have a mutual acquaintance in Jane Fairfax.
Did you meet often at Weymouth?
Pray, let us go in here.
That I may prove myself to be a true citizen of Highbury,
I must buy something at Ford's.
And I beg your pardon, Miss Woodhouse,
you were speaking to me.
I merely asked whether you had known
much of Miss Fairfax and her party at Weymouth.
And now that I understand the question,
I must pronounce it to be a very unfair one.
Well, it is always the lady's right
to decide on the degree of acquaintance.
You answer as discreetly as she would herself.
Though her account leaves so much to be guessed
that I really think you may say what you like
of your acquaintance with her.
I only know what is generally known.
That she is poor and of no consequence.
Here's where you have your balls, I suppose.
Every fortnight through the winter.
I am afraid Highbury may yet disappoint you, Mr. Churchill.
We have not society enough for dancing.
Ah, but an inn of this size must have a ballroom,
and where there is a ballroom, there can be a ball.
We cannot do without dancing.
Instances have been known of young people
passing many, many months successfully
without any ball of any description
and no injury either to body or to mind, but when...
when the felicities of rapid motion have been felt...
...it must be a very heavy heart
that does not ask for more.
It is very dirty inside.
Oh, my dear, my dear, you are too particular.
By candlelight, it'll be as clean as Randalls.
We must have a ball.
Yes, and when we do, may I hope for the honor
of your hand for the first two dances?
The Coles are to hold a supper party in Frank's honor,
and perhaps there'll be dancing there.
So, Emma Woodhouse deigned to accept
an invitation from the merchant Mr. Cole.
Mr. Churchill will soon return to Yorkshire.
We must make the most of every opportunity until he does.
"We must."
He's in Highbury only two weeks.
And yet he spent a whole day going to London
just to get his hair cut.
16 miles, twice over.
He's a trifling, silly fop.
Indeed.
Mr. Cole.
Such grand estates you have in common, gentlemen.
Donwell Abbey.
Enscombe, soon to inherit, of course.
Soon to inherit Enscombe.
Not too soon.
I trust your uncle Churchill is in good health?
Uh, excellent health.
And have you heard the choicest piece of gossip
that has set all the tongues of the village aflame?
A pianoforte, very elegant, delivered to Miss Fairfax
this very morning with no return address.
I never saw so fine an instrument.
A pianoforte, very elegant, and with no return address.
No return address.
Jane herself is quite at a loss.
Quite bewildered to think who could have sent it.
Bewildered, indeed.
Why do you smile?
Nay, why do you?
I suppose I smile for pleasure.
A pianoforte is a very handsome present.
I rather wonder it was never made before.
Perhaps Miss Fairfax has never been
staying here so long before.
Or that Colonel Campbell did not
give her use of his own instrument,
which must now be shut up in London untouched by anybody.
She has done her hair in so odd a way.
I never saw anything like it.
Must be a fancy of her own.
I see nobody else looking like her.
If Colonel Campbell is not the giver,
who can be?
Mrs. Dixon?
As a token of her... her friendship, perhaps?
What say you to Mr. Dixon?
Mr. Dixon?
He saved her life.
Did you hear of it?
A water party, and by some accident,
she was falling overboard.
He caught her.
Huh.
Ladies and gentlemen,
a duet.
What do you say to this, Emma?
I have made a match between Mr. Knightley and Jane Fairfax.
Mr. Knightley and Jane Fairfax?
This pianoforte's been sent to her by somebody.
And she has always been a favorite with him.
Tonight, he sent his carriage for her as a courtesy
and walked himself.
Was that not gallant?
Mr. Weston.
? Drink to me only with thine eyes ?
? And I will pledge with mine ?
? Or leave a kiss within the cup ?
? And I'll not ask for wine ?
? The thirst that from the soul doth rise ?
? Doth ask a drink divine ?
? But might I of love's nectar sip ?
? I would not change for thine. ?
"Enter not into judgment
"with thy servant, O Lord,
"for in thy sight...
...shall no man living be justified."
He's married.
It cannot be a long acquaintance.
He's only been gone six weeks.
My wife, Mrs. Augusta Elton.
This house is very like
my brother Mr. Suckling's seat at Maple Grove.
Very like.
I'm quite struck by the likeness.
Is it not astonishingly like, dear husband?
Very like.
I really could almost fancy myself at Maple Grove.
The staircase as I came in--
I observed how very like the staircase is.
Placed in exactly the same part of the house.
I assure you, Miss Woodhouse, it is very delightful to me
to be reminded of a place I am so extremely partial to
as Maple Grove.
A most impressive residence.
Whenever you are transplanted
like me, Miss Woodhouse,
you will understand how very delightful it is
to meet with anything at all
that reminds one of what one has left behind.
We have been calling at Randalls.
What pleasant people the Westons seem to be.
And who should call in while we were there?
Knightley.
Knightley himself.
Of course, as so particular a friend of Mr. E's,
I had a great curiosity to meet him.
"My friend Knightley" had been so often mentioned
that I really was impatient to see him.
And I must do my cara sposo the justice
to say that he need not be at all ashamed of his friend.
"Knightley."
I could not have believed it. "Knightley."
Never met him before in her life
and calls him "Knightley."
And to discover that he is a gentleman.
Upstart, vulgar being,
with her "Mr. E" and her cara sposo.
Emma.
- Mr. Weston. - Miss Smith.
The Churchills have settled at Richmond.
Here.
Frank is returning.
We shall have our ball.
No. No.
- You are Frank Churchill. - Oh.
Of course.
You dance so beautifully.
Oh.
Oh, this is brilliant, indeed.
This is admirable.
Excellently contrived, upon my word.
Nothing wanting.
Oh! Miss Woodhouse.
You must really have had Aladdin's lamp.
This is meeting quite in fairyland.
Such a transformation.
Now, where shall we sit? Where shall we sit?
Oh, now, anywhere where Jane is not in a draft.
How do you like my gown?
- Oh! - Oh, Mr. Elton!
I do not know whether it is not over-trimmed.
I have the greatest dislike to the idea of being over-trimmed.
Quite a horror of finery.
Of course, I must put on
a few ornaments now because it is expected.
A bride, you know, must appear like a bride.
But my natural taste is all for simplicity.
How do you like Jane's hair?
She did it all herself.
Too wonderful.
No hairdresser from London, I think,
could do a finer style.
Emma, it has just occurred to us
that Mrs. Elton will expect to be asked to begin the ball.
And she will surely think Frank ought to ask her.
Frank cannot break his promise to you.
He's promised you the first two dances.
Here's the plan.
I will ask Mrs. Elton.
The ball is in Frank's honor, but it's in my design.
I shall ask her.
You must submit to stand second.
A bride must be first in company.
It is almost enough to make me think of marrying.
Oh.
Must I go first?
I really am ashamed to always be
leading the way.
Gentlemen.
You have been much missed in Highbury.
Have I?
How is your aunt?
Most reluctant to release me.
Do you not dance, Mr. Elton?
Most readily, Mrs. Weston, if you will dance with me.
- Oh. - Ah.
Well, perhaps...
There is a young lady disengaged
whom I should be very glad to see dancing-- Miss Smith.
Miss Smith.
If I were not an old married man.
But my dancing days are over.
Mrs. Weston, you will excuse me.
Will you dance, Miss Smith?
Thank you.
For your kindness to Harriet.
He was unpardonably rude.
And he aimed at wounding more than Harriet.
I was completely mistaken in Mr. Elton.
There is a littleness about him
which you discovered and I did not.
You would have chosen for him better
than he has chosen for himself.
Harriet Smith has some first-rate qualities
which Mrs. Elton is totally without.
She does you credit, Emma, as you do her.
Ah.
Oh, Miss Woodhouse. Come.
Set your companions an example.
They're all lazy.
They're all asleep!
We must dance another set.
I am ready whenever I am wanted.
With whom will you dance?
With you.
If you will ask me.
You have shown that you can dance,
and we are not really so much brother and sister
as to make it improper.
No, indeed.
Stop it.
Stop embarrassing yourself.
I am not embarrassing myself!
Oh!
Mr. Churchill. Harriet.
- Oh! - What has happened?
She was set upon by some gypsies as she was coming home.
When she attempted escape, she fell.
She had a cramp.
- From too much dancing! - Well, is she hurt?
I didn't see.
I arrived moments after...
...and brought her here.
I could think of no other place.
To the drawing room.
It was on account of the scissors!
The scissors?
- Oh! - I...
...borrowed a pair of scissors from Miss Bates.
I was halfway home
when I made the recollection
and so doubled back.
Whew.
What is your purpose here?
Um, my-my... carriage...
My... Uh, my horse threw a shoe.
You took your carriage to the ball?
Yes.
What might have become of me, Miss Woodhouse,
if not for the scissors?
We must send for Perry.
Miss Woodhouse.
I believe I am in love again.
Mrs. Goddard should be assured of her safety.
Yes, and I shall rouse my father.
We ought to let them know
that there are gypsies in the neighborhood.
Yes, let us go at once.
- Oh, Miss Woodhouse. - Say nothing more.
Do not go!
Mr. Churchill.
Please.
Stay.
What is the matter? What has happened?
What... Is she... is she... is she alive?
Harriet is unharmed, Papa.
We have Mr. Churchill to thank.
Please stay.
Mr. Knightley can sound the alarm.
We will both go.
Why are we alarmed?
We have sent for Perry, Papa.
He's your superior, no doubt, but...
but wonderful things have taken place.
There have been matches of greater disparity.
Believe me, I have not the presumption to suppose.
No, but the service he rendered you.
Service?
The very recollection of it,
and all that I felt.
His coming to me, his noble look.
Such a change in one moment from misery to...
...to perfect happiness.
I was very wrong before.
I will be cautious now.
I am determined against any interference.
What is this I hear, dear Jane,
about your going to the post office
in the rain last week?
Why, you sad girl.
Why would you do such a thing?
I will not allow you to do such a thing again.
I shall speak to Mr. E.
The man who fetches our letters--
one of our men, I forget his name--
shall inquire for yours, too.
Do you suppose Mr. Knightley might extend us all
an invitation to the abbey, Miss Woodhouse?
I love to explore great houses,
and I fear I have long exhausted Highbury.
I'm afraid Mr. Knightley's concerns
are all for his tenants
and none for his house, Mrs. Elton.
His ballrooms and picture galleries are quite shut up.
I should be very glad to open Donwell
for your exploration, Mrs. Elton.
- The welcome is long overdue. - Mm.
I should like that of all things.
Name your day, and I will come.
I cannot name a day until I have spoken
to some others whom I would wish to form the party.
Oh, leave that to me. It is my party.
I will invite your guests.
I hope you will bring Elton,
but I will not trouble you to give any other invitations.
Oh.
Oh, well, now you are looking very sly.
But consider, you need not be afraid
of delegating power to me.
Married women, you know, may be safely authorized.
There is but one married woman in all the world
whom I can ever allow
to invite what guests she pleases to Donwell.
Mrs. Weston, I suppose?
No. Mrs. Knightley.
Until she is in being, I will manage such matters myself.
Oh, my heavens.
Do you not feel transported?
I can hardly believe that we remain in England.
And I was to accompany him,
but the night before his going, I was struck down by a fever,
and so I did not go.
Please excuse me.
Of course.
There is an excellent prospect
from the south window, Miss Smith.
May I escort you?
Jane of course knows a great deal
more of the world than I.
She has been to Ireland.
Will you...
be so kind when I am missed
to say that I am gone home?
If you wish it.
But you're not going to walk back to Highbury alone.
- Are you unwell? - Miss Woodhouse...
We all know at times what it is to be wearied in spirits.
Mine, I confess, are exhausted.
Have I missed the party?
Not at all.
We're exploring the house.
I was detained by my aunt.
A nervous seizure which lasted some hours.
Had I known how hot a ride I should have,
I believe I should not have come at all.
You will soon be cooler if you sit down.
Some cold beer, perhaps.
As soon as my aunt gets well again, I shall go abroad.
I'm tired of doing nothing.
I want a change.
I'm serious, Miss Woodhouse,
whatever your penetrating eyes may fancy.
I'm sick of England.
You are sick of prosperity and indulgence.
Cannot you invent a few hardships for yourself
and be contented to stay?
You are quite mistaken. I do not look upon myself
as either prosperous or indulged.
We're going to Box Hill tomorrow.
It is not the grand tour, but it will be something
for a young man so much in want of change.
Well, if you wish me to stay and join the party,
I will.
How much I am obliged to you for telling me to come today.
I had quite determined to go away again.
Yes, you were very cross.
Our companions are excessively stupid.
What shall we do to rouse them?
Hmm? Any nonsense will serve.
Ladies and gentlemen,
I am ordered by Miss Woodhouse to say that
she desires to know what you're all thinking of.
Dear. What we are thinking of?
Is Miss Woodhouse sure that she would like to know
what we are all thinking of?
No, no. Upon no account in the world.
It is the very last thing
I would stand the brunt of just now.
It is the sort of thing which I should not
have thought myself privileged to inquire into, as...
chaperon of the party.
Very true, my love.
Very true.
But some ladies will say anything.
Best to pass it off as a joke.
Everybody knows what is due to you.
They are most of them affronted.
I will attack them with more address.
Ladies and gentlemen,
I am ordered by Miss Woodhouse
to say that she waives her right
of knowing what you may be thinking of
and only requires something entertaining from each of you.
She demands either one thing very clever
or two things moderately clever
or three things very dull indeed.
And she engages
to laugh heartily at them all.
Oh. V-Very well, then.
I need not be uneasy.
"Three things very dull indeed."
That will do just for me.
I shall be sure to say three dull things
as soon as I open my mouth.
Ah, ma'am, but there is the difficulty.
When have you ever stopped at three?
Oh.
No. I see what she-she means.
I shall try to hold my tongue.
I-I like this plan.
Uh, agreed, agreed, agreed, agreed.
Uh, I shall do my best.
Um...
I'm making a conundrum.
How will a conundrum reckon?
Low, I am afraid, sir,
but we shall, uh, be indulgent...
Mr. Knightley, I must have made myself very disagreeable,
or she would not have said such a thing to an old friend.
I cannot think what I have done.
What two letters
of the alphabet are there that express perfection?
What two letters...
...express perfection?
I... I'm sure I do not know.
Well, I shall tell you.
"M" and "A." "Emma."
- Do you understand? - Yes.
Mr. Weston has shown us how
to play this game but also how to end it,
for who can improve upon perfection?
I protest, I must be excused.
I do not pretend to be a wit.
I really must be allowed to judge when to speak
and when to hold my tongue.
Shall we walk, Augusta?
Most willingly.
I am very tired of exploring so long on one spot.
Shall we join Mrs. Elton, ma'am?
If you please, my dear.
With all my heart, I am quite ready.
How could you be so unfeeling to Miss Bates?
It was not so very bad.
How could you be so insolent to a woman of her character
and-and-and age and-and situation?
I dare say she did not understand me.
I assure you she did.
She felt your full meaning.
She has talked of it since.
I know there is not a better creature in the world...
I wish you could have heard how she talked of it--
w-with what candor and-and generosity.
You must allow that what is good and what is ridiculous
are most unfortunately blended in her.
They are blended in her, I acknowledge.
And were she a woman of fortune,
I would not quarrel with you for any liberties of manner,
but she is poor.
She has sunk from the comfort she was born to,
and if she lived to an old age, she will probably sink more.
- It is too hot, and... - She has seen you grow up
- from when her notice of you was an honor. - And I am tired!
To have you now, in thoughtless spirits
and the pride of the moment,
laugh at her and-and humble her,
and before her niece and before others, many of whom
are entirely guided by your treatment of her!
It was badly done, indeed!
Go!
I have been unpardonably vain...
...and insufferably arrogant.
I have been inconsiderate...
...and indelicate and irrational and unfeeling and...
I'm afraid Jane is not very well.
Dreadful headache.
Writing all morning.
Such long letters.
I said, "My dear, you shall blind yourself."
I'm so very sorry, Miss Bates.
Please give Jane my good wishes.
You were kept waiting at the door.
I was quite ashamed.
No, you... you see, there was a little bustle,
for it so happened we did not hear the knock,
and until you were on the stairs,
we did not know that anybody was coming.
So very kind.
But you are always kind, Miss Woodhouse.
Ah, Emma.
How did you find them?
Emma has been to call on
Mrs. and Miss Bates, Mr. Knightley.
She is always so attentive to them.
I...
I regret I cannot stay, sir.
We will miss you in the evening.
Goodbye, Emma.
What has happened?
Mrs. Churchill is dead.
Dead?
Yes, we-we always thought her illness
was invented, but...
Emma.
Frank was here this very morning
on the most extraordinary errand.
It is impossible to express our surprise.
Frank and Jane Fairfax are engaged.
What?
There's been a solemn engagement between them
ever since October.
Formed at Weymouth and kept a secret from everybody.
What? Um...
Engaged?
Before either of them came to Highbury?
Secretly engaged.
Of course, had his aunt heard of it,
she would have cut him off, but...
It has hurt me, Emma, very much.
It has hurt his father equally.
He sent the pianoforte.
He has confessed it.
Emma, you must know
it was our darling wish.
Oh, no, no.
Not for me.
I'm so very sorry, Harriet.
But why should you condole me?
You do not think I care about Mr. Frank Churchill?
There was a time, and not very distant, either,
when you gave me reason to believe
- that you did care about him. - Him?
Never.
Dear Miss Woodhouse, how could you so mistake me?
Harriet, wh-what do you mean?
I should not have thought it possible
that you could have misunderstood me.
But you told me that greater things had happened.
That there had been matches of greater disparity.
Those were your very words, Miss Woodhouse.
Harriet.
Let us understand each other now
without possibility of further mistake.
Are you speaking of Mr. Knightley?
Of course.
- But... - I thought you knew.
But the service Mr. Churchill rendered you
i-in protecting you from the gypsies.
Oh, no.
It was not the gypsies. No.
I was thinking of a much more precious circumstance.
Of Mr. Knightley's coming and asking me to dance.
When Mr. Elton would not stand up with me.
Good God.
And have you any idea of Mr. Knightley's
returning your affection?
I must say that I have.
He has shown me sweetness and kindness.
And at Donwell, he took great pains to describe to me
some particulars of the management of his tenant farms.
We were interrupted, but before we were...
...he seemed almost to be asking me
if my affections were engaged.
Yes, but is it possible
that he might have been alluding to Mr. Martin?
That he might have had Mr. Martin's interest in view?
You think of Mr. Knightley for yourself.
Harriet.
I-I do not flatter myself
with any idea of his attachment to me.
Harriet.
I should have considered it too great a presumption
even to think of him but for you.
Harriet.
I know that he is the last man
who would intentionally give any woman the idea
of his feeling more for her than he does, so...
if you believe...
...he loves you...
I refused Mr. Martin because of you.
Because...
Harriet.
Emma!
Mr. Knightley.
Have you heard the news?
Miss Fairfax and Frank Churchill.
I did not see it.
But then I seem to have been doomed to blindness.
Time, my dearest Emma... time will heal the wound.
He will soon be gone.
You will forget him.
You are very kind, but you are mistaken.
My blindness to what was going on
led me to act in a way that I must always be ashamed of,
but I have no other regret.
With respect to...
Mr. Churchill.
He is a disgrace to the name of man.
And is he to be rewarded with that sweet young woman?
Jane, Jane... you'll be a miserable creature.
Everything turns out for his good.
His-his aunt is in the way, his aunt dies.
He uses everybody ill,
and-and-and they're delighted to forgive him.
He is a fortunate man, indeed.
You speak as if you envied him.
And I do envy him.
Emma.
In one respect, he is the object of my envy.
You will not ask me why.
You are... you-you are...
you are determined, I see, to have no curiosity.
You are wise.
But I cannot be wise.
I must tell you, Emma, what you will not ask,
though I may wish it unsaid the next moment.
Oh, then do not speak it.
If you wish to speak to me...
as a friend
or to ask my opinion...
as a friend,
I will hear whatever you like.
"As a friend." Emma, that, I fear, is a word...
Tell me, Emma.
Have I no chance of ever succeeding?
My dearest Emma,
for dearest you will always be,
my dearest, most beloved Emma, tell me at once.
I cannot make speeches.
If I...
If I... if I loved you less,
then I might be able to talk about it more,
but y-y-you-you...
you know what I am.
I have... I have lectured you,
and I've... I've blamed you, and...
and you have borne it as no other woman in England
could have borne it.
God knows I have been a very indifferent lover.
But you understand me.
You-you understand my feelings.
Will you marry me?
Oh.
Emma.
Oh.
Emma.
- Oh. - Emma.
Oh.
- Emma. - Uh, no, I...
- Emma. - Oh.
No, I...
I...
I-I cannot.
Why not?
Harriet!
- Harriet? Wh... - She's in love with you!
And she believes that you may love her, too.
And... and you danced with her!
- Oh. Oh. - And shown her kindness
and took notice of her at Donwell
and spoke of farming and...
And seemed on the verge of asking
if her affections were engaged!
To Robert Martin! To Robert Martin!
She told you this?
I cannot break her heart again.
I shall... I shall call on Robert Martin
this very evening.
I shall urge him to put his suit
to Miss Smith a second time.
He still loves her. I'm certain that he does.
He need only ask again.
Not-not by letter, but in person.
No.
No, I must do it.
I must go.
Mr. Martin...
...I have a confession to make.
I have caused you great suffering.
As I have also caused the suffering of my friend.
My dearest friend.
? How firm a foundation ?
? Ye saints of the Lord ?
? Is laid for your faith ?
? In his excellent word ?
? What more can he say ?
? Than to you he hath said ?
? You who unto Jesus ?
? For refuge have fled? ?
Harriet.
Mr. Robert Martin has offered me his hand.
I have accepted.
Then he is the most fortunate man of my acquaintance.
Harriet, I...
There is something else.
I have had a letter from my father.
Now that I have come of age, he has revealed himself.
He is a tradesman.
In Bristol.
He makes galoshes.
He comes to Highbury next week on purpose to meet with me.
Then I hope you will bring him to Hartfield.
? As I was a-walkin' ?
? One midsummer's morning ?
? I heard the birds whistle and the nightingales play ?
? And there did I spy ?
? A beautiful maiden ?
? As I was a-walkin' all on the highway ?
? Oh, where are you going, my fair pretty lady? ?
? Oh, where are you going ?
? So early this morn? ?
? She said, "I'm going down to visit my neighbors ?
? I'm going down to Warwick, the place I was born" ?
? It's "May I come with you, my sweet pretty darling? ?
? May I go along ?
? In your sweet company?" ?
? Then she turned her head and smiling all at me ?
? Saying, "You may come with me ?
? Kind sir, if you please." ?
Do you...
Do you feel a draft, Mr. Knightley?
About the knees.
I-I cannot say that I do, sir.
Ah.
Pity.
In fact...
Yes.
- A chill draft. - Chill.
The screen. Bartholomew!
Charles, make haste.
No, not that... This one.
No, not that one. This one.
How could I ever leave him?
He can remove with you to Donwell.
You know he never would.
He could not stand it.
Then I shall come here.
You would quit the abbey?
Yes.
Sacrifice your independence?
Yeah.
And live constantly with my father in no house of your own?
Yeah.
Uh, h-how is it now, Mr. Knightley?
It's much better now.
Dearly beloved friends,
we gather here in the sight of God
to join together this man
and this woman in holy matrimony,
an honorable estate instituted by God
in the time of man's great innocence.
? All is for my mistress, all is for my maid ?
? Sweetness that I took for, sweetness that she gave to me ?
? My queen bee ?
? Though my heart has long been given to you ?
? Summer's turn is nigh ?
? Swifts and swallows swoop and yearn for you ?
? With all that's in the sky ?
? But blow the wind and come the rain ?
? And come, my love, again ?
? All is for my mistress, all is for my maid ?
? Sweetness that I took for, sweetness that she gave to me ?
? My queen bee ?
? Autumn's flourish, fruit that falls for you ?
? Apples sweet as day ?
? All that falls has lived and died for you ?
? Gently come to rest ?
? But blow the wind and come the rain ?
? And come, my love, again ?
? All is for my mistress, all is for my maid ?
? Sweetness that I took for, sweetness that she gave to me ?
? My queen bee ?
? Winter's kiss has some enthralled ?
? So they keep their fires bright ?
? But my breast is lit with flames to shun ?
? The dying of the light ?
? Oh, blow the wind and come the rain ?
? And come, my love, again ?
? All is for my mistress, all is for my maid ?
? Sweetness that I took for, sweetness that she gave to me ?
? My queen bee ?
? I'll speak love's truth with oak and ash for you ?
? Sing through April's tears ?
? I will weave the bonny flowers of spring for you ?
? I will walk for years ?
? Oh, blow the wind and come the rain ?
? And take my heart again ?
? Yes, blow the wind and come the rain ?
? And come, my love, again ?
? All is for my mistress, all is for my maid ?
? Sweetness that I took for, sweetness that she gave to me ?
? My queen bee. ?