Emma Thompson

You must know... surely, you must know it was all for you. You are too generous to trifle with me. I believe you spoke with my aunt last night, and it has taught me to hope as I'd scarcely allowed myself before. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes have not changed, but one word from you will silence me forever. If, however, your feelings have changed, I will have to tell you: you have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love--I love--I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.

Miss Elizabeth. I have struggled in vain and I can bear it no longer. These past months have been a torment. I came to Rosings with the single object of seeing you… I had to see you. I have fought against my better judgment, my family's expectations, the inferiority of your birth by rank and circumstance. All these things I am willing to put aside and ask you to end my agony.

So this is your opinion of me. Thank you for explaining so fully. Perhaps these offences might have been overlooked had not your pride been hurt by my honesty…

...in admitting scruples about our relationship. Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your circumstances?

Either you are in each other's confidence and have secret affairs to discuss, or you are conscious that your figures appear to the greatest advantage by walking. If the first, I should get in your way. If the second, I can admire you much better from here.

I am well enough acquainted with you, Miss Elizabeth, to know that I can not alarm you, even should I wish it.

You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room.

Thoroughly tolerable, I daresay, but not handsome enough to tempt me. You'd better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles. You're wasting your time with me.

Only the deepest love will persuade me into matrimony, which is why I will end up an old maid.

And that put paid to it. I wonder who first discovered the power of poetry in driving away love?

Of a fine stout love, it may. But if it is only a vague inclination I'm convinced one poor sonnet will kill it stone dead

Dancing. Even if one's partner is barely tolerable.

And those are the words of a gentleman. From the first moment I met you, your arrogance and conceit, your selfish disdain for the feelings of others made me realize that you were the last man in the world I could ever be prevailed upon to marry.

He's been a fool about so many things, about Jane, and others... but then, so have I. You see, he and I are so similar.

No... No, I prefer to be unsociable and taciturn... Makes it all so much more enjoyable, don't you think?

Do these pleasing attentions proceed from the impulse of the moment, or are they the result of previous study?

Oh, believe me, no one would suspect your manners to be rehearsed.

He is not proud. I was wrong, I was entirely wrong about him. You don't know him, Papa. If I told you what he's really like, what he's done.

Yes, we often walk to Meryton. It's a great opportunity to meet new people. In fact, when you met us, we'd just had the pleasure of forming a new acquaintance.

He's been so unfortunate as to lose your friendship. I dare say that is an irreversible event.

To make out your character.

If I was uncivil, then that is some excuse. But I have other reasons, you know I have.

Do you think anything might tempt me to accept the hand of the man who has ruined, perhaps for ever, the happiness of a most beloved sister? Do you deny that you separated a young couple who loved each other, exposing your friend to censure of the world for caprice and my sister to derision for disappointed hopes, involving them both in misery of the acutest kind?

Believe me. Men are either eaten up with arrogance or stupidity. If they are amiable, they are so easily led they have no minds of their own whatsoever.

Jane, he danced with you most of the night and stared at you for the rest of it. But I give you leave to like him. You've liked great deal a stupider person. You're a great deal too apt to like people in general, you know. All the world is good and agreeable in your eyes.

Mr. Darcy? I could more easily forgive his vanity had he not wounded mine. But no matter. I doubt we shall ever speak again.

Sir, I am honored by your proposal, but I regret that I must decline it.

Mr Collins, I am perfectly serious. You could not make me happy. And I'm the last woman in the world who could make you happy.

I am not the sort of female to torment a respectable man. Please understand me, I cannot accept you.

What do you know of my heart? What do you know of anything but your own suffering? For weeks, Marianne, I've had this pressing on me without being at liberty to speak of it to a single creature. It was forced on me by the very person whose prior claims ruined all my hopes. I have endured her exultations again and again whilst knowing myself to be divided from Edward forever. Believe me, Marianne, had I not been bound to silence I could have provided proof enough of a broken heart, even for you.

You talk of feeling idle and useless. Imagine how that is compounded when one has no hope and no choice of any occupation whatsoever.

Except that you will inherit your fortune. We cannot even earn ours.

Yes. Marianne does not approve of hiding her emotions. In fact, her romantic prejudices have the unfortunate tendency to set propriety at naught.

Rather too unspoilt, in my view. The sooner she becomes acquainted with the ways of the world, the better.

Marianne, please try... I... I cannot... I cannot do without you. Oh, please, I... I-I have tried to bear everything else... I will try... Please, dearest, beloved Marianne, do not leave me alone.

Whatever his past actions, whatever his present course… at least you may be certain that he loved you.

I am by no means assured of his regard, and even were he to feel such a preference, I think we should be foolish to assume that there would not be many obstacles to his marrying a... a woman of no rank who cannot afford to buy sugar.

In such a situation, Mamma, it is perhaps better to use one's head.

Mrs Jennings is a wealthy woman with a married daughter. She has nothing to do but marry off everyone else's.

John and Fanny are in town. I think we shall be forced to see them.

My mother is always in excellent health, thank you. My brother Robert is in town with her this season and quite the most popular bachelor in London. He has his own barouche.

Indeed yes. Edward is the elder and Mamma quite depends upon him. He's traveling up from Plymouth shortly and will break his journey here.

Mrs. Dashwood, Miss Dashwood, Miss Marianne - my brother, Edward Ferrars.

They're all exceedingly spoilt, I find. Miss Margaret spends all her time up trees and under furniture. I've barely had a civil word from Marianne.

That is no excuse.

We have great hopes for him. Much is expected of him by our mother with regard to his profession.

Love is all very well, but unfortunately we cannot always rely on the heart to lead us in the most suitable directions. You see, my dear Mrs. Dashwood, Edward is entirely the kind of compassionate person upon whom penniless women can prey. And having entered into any understanding, he would never go back on his word. He's simply incapable of doing so, but it would lead to his ruin. I worry for him so, Mrs. Dashwood. My mother has made it perfectly plain that she would withdraw all financial support from Edward should he choose to plant his affections in less... exalted ground than he deserves.

People always live forever when there is an annuity to be paid them.

My only real concern is how long it will take them to move out.

I have never liked the smell of books.