– Do you love me? – Do I what? – Do you love me? – Do I love you? With our daughters getting married and this trouble in the town, You're upset. You're worn out. Go inside. Go lie down. Maybe it's indigestion.
– I'm asking you a question. Do you love me? – You're a fool! – Yes, but... do you love me? – Do I love you? For twenty-five years, I've washed your clothes, Cooked your meals, cleaned your house, Overlooked all your faults After twenty-five years, why talk about love right now?
The first time I saw you was on our wedding day. – I was scared. – I was shy. – I was nervous. – So was I. – But my father and my mother said we'd learn to love each other. – So now I've got to ask you...
Do you love me? – I'm your wife! – I know. But do you love me? – Do I love him? For twenty-five years, I've lived with him, Fought with him, starved with him. For all these years my life is his. If that's not love, what is this? – Then you love me? – I suppose I do. – And I suppose I love you, too.
– It doesn't change a thing, but even so, After all these years, it's nice to know...