Emma. (2020) - full transcript

In 1800s England, a well meaning but selfish young woman meddles in the love lives of her friends.

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.


Is this not the most happy...

happy, the-the most fortunate?

This morning, I could not get
my bonnet on for trembling.


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.






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.


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.


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,

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.


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.

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.

Miss Woodhouse.

How do you do?

And you, Miss Smith.

I saw you through the window.

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...


To be sure...

he's not so genteel
as to a real gentleman.


I do hope
Mr. Woodhouse is not ill.

Oh, no.

Oh, Papa sees Mr. Perry
every day.

I know I disappoint him

I'm so seldom indisposed.

If he does not invent
an illness for me,

I hardly figure in his letters.


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.

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...


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... ♪


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...


refuse Mr. Martin.


Then she is a greater simpleton
than I ever believed her.

Harriet Smith
refuse Robert Martin?


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.


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.


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.

might have been forgivable,

but Southend?

Let us be friends.


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...


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...



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.


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, my friends!


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.


How are the children?


My only moment's rest
is in the office.

Frank has been detained
at Enscombe, I'm sorry to say.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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.


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...


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.

Miss Woodhouse.

He never loved me.

He loves you.

He sought to aggrandize
and enrich himself.



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.


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.



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.


Such a charming man.

Oh, dear.

Is this not pleasant?

She plans to stay three months.

We must have you all
to Hartfield.


Oh, Mother, do you hear?

Miss Woodhouse has invited us
to Hartfield!

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,

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.


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

Three months of doing
more than I wish

and less than I ought.

That indifferent,
imperturbable statue.

I must go.



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

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.



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

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.


Mr. Cole.

Such grand estates you have
in common, gentlemen.

Donwell Abbey.

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.


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 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.


I could not have believed it.

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.


- Mr. Weston.
- Miss Smith.

The Churchills
have settled at Richmond.


Frank is returning.

We shall have our ball.

No. No.

- You are Frank Churchill.
- Oh.

Of course.

You dance so beautifully.


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! -
- MISS BATES: 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.

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.


Must I go first?

I really am ashamed
to always be

leading the way.


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

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.


Oh, Miss Woodhouse.

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!


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.


What is your purpose here?

Um, my-my... carriage...

My... Uh, my horse
threw a shoe.

You took
your carriage to the ball?


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.



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.


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, 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

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?


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.


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!


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 regret I cannot stay, sir.

We will miss you
in the evening.

Goodbye, Emma.

What has happened?

Mrs. Churchill is dead.


Yes, we-we always thought
her illness

was invented, but...


Frank was here
this very morning

on the most
extraordinary errand.

It is impossible
to express our surprise.

Frank and Jane Fairfax
are engaged.


There's been a solemn
engagement between them

ever since October.

Formed at Weymouth and kept
a secret from everybody.

What? Um...


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?


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.


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.


I-I do not flatter myself

with any idea
of his attachment to me.


I should have considered it
too great a presumption

even to think of him
but for you.


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.




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.


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.


- Emma.
- Uh, no, I...

- Emma.
- Oh.

No, I...


I-I cannot.

Why not?


- 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, 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? ♪


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.



In fact...


- 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?


Sacrifice your independence?


And live constantly with my
father in no house of your own?


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. ♪