All language subtitles for Pride and Prejudice - 1980 - Episode 1 - HD Tubi

I know who is moving
into Netherfield hall.

Who?

His name is Mr. Bingley.

He is unmarried and well under 30.

What a wonder, a single man
in possession of a good fortune,

coming to live at Netherfield.

It is a truth universally acknowledged

that such a man
must be in want of a wife.

Of course.

He's a rightful property of the
neighbourhood daughters.

However little is known of his
character, Charlotte?

Little need be known, Eliza.

Happiness in marriage
is entirely a matter of chance.

It is best to know
as little as possible of the defects

of the person with whom
you are to pass your life.

You make me laugh, Charlotte.

But it is not sound,
you know it is not sound.

You would never
act that way yourself. Never.

Did your mother
know Mr. Bennet before she married him?

Did he know her?

You are too shrewd, Charlotte.

Then my father is remarkable -

so odd a mixture
of quick parts and caprice,

even after 20 years
my mother still fails to understand him.

Her mind is less difficult
to comprehend.

A single man
of large fortune from the north?

What a thing for our girls, Mr. Bennet.

How so, Mrs. Bennet?
How can it affect them?

How can you be so tiresome?

I depend upon him marrying one of them.

Indeed?
Is that his design in settling here?

Design? Nonsense,
how can you talk so?

But it is very likely
he may fall in love with one of them,

therefore you must visit him at once.

It would be impossible
for us to visit him if you do not.

You are overscrupulous,
my dear, surely.

These are desperate times.

Five daughters,
all unmarried,

and this house, this land
entailed away to a cousin

when you have finally
driven me to my death.

And what's to become of you?

I know what will become of me.

Well, I tell you what I will do.

I will write a few brief lines

to assure our new neighbour
that he has my hearty consent

to his marrying whichever
he chooses of the girls.

- He'll have a hard time.
- He will, he will.

Of course, Jane is the eldest -
he will be sensitive to that -

they all being equally silly
and ignorant, like other girls...

Except possibly my little Lizzie.

Well, pass me my pen,
there's no time to be lost.

You take delight in vexing me.

You have no compassion for my nerves.

You mistake me, my dear.

I have a high regard for your nerves.

They are my old friends.

I've heard you mention them
with consideration

these 20 years - at least.

You will not wait to call Mr. Bingley?

I assure you, Mrs. Bennet, I will not.

So your father has already visited
Netherfield, I dare say?

- Of course.
- And what did he report?

Mr. Bingley was not in.

- Look.
- There goes father.

- Where to?
- To visit Mr. Bingley, of course.

- Unknown to mother.
- I thought he would not.

He loves to surprise her, Charlotte -

to repay pain with pleasure.

Even though he must
first inflict the pain

to bring about the pleasure.

Of course.
Wait and see.

I hope Mr. Bingley may like it, Lizzie.

How are we to know
what Mr. Bingley likes

since we are not to visit?

But you forget, mama, Mrs. Long promised

to introduce him to us at the assembly.

I do not believe Mrs. Long
would do any such thing.

She is a selfish woman
and has two nieces of her own.

If only one or two of you
had been boys,

the rest would have had brothers
to bring their friends home.

And we would not be so in want

of male company and protection.

We have father for company.

I refer to male company bespoke, Jane.

Don't keep coughing so, Kitty.

For heaven's sake, you tear
my nerves to pieces.

Of course they're in shreds already,

for reasons - I'll not tell you.

Kitty has no discretion in her coughs,
you're quite right, my dear.

Mr. Bennet speaks!

She times them ill, it seems.
What do you say, Mary?

Does not your sister Kitty
time her coughing ill?

Speak up, girl.

A young lady
of deep perception

must have something
to say on the subject?

One coughs...
When one must, does not one?

"One coughs when one must"?

Mrs. Bennet, I was wrong.

You have at least one daughter
of great wit and intelligence.

I hope Mr. Bingley
will be most impressed. Oh-hh...

"One coughs when one must" -

a truly profound statement.

It will be all over London society

mark my words, in next to no time.

What use is Mr. Bingley to any of us,

since you are too unkind to call?

He might admire
Lizzie's new hat, perhaps,

and be useful for that.

I am sick of Mr. Bingley.

Oh dear, I am sorry to hear that.
Why didn't you tell me so before?

If I'd known this morning,
I certainly wouldn't have called on him.

Most unfortunate,

but as I have actually paid the call,

we cannot escape
the acquaintance now.

Mr. Bennet, I have wronged you.

- What is he like?
- Father, do tell us.

Mr. Bingley's, well, quite young,

reasonably handsome, has no wife,

five sisters - but only two
here at Netherfield.

He's not adverse to local company,
and even means to attend

the next assembly ball
with a large party.

To be fond of dancing is a certain
step towards falling in love,

and falling in love to marrying.

You may rest at peace, my dear wife.

What an excellent
father you have, girls.

Have I not always told you so?

I do not know how we will make
amends for his kindness.

Lydia, my love, you must
have a new dress.

Although you are
the youngest, I dare say

Mr. Bingley will dance
with you at the ball.

I may be the youngest and
the smallest, but I am not afraid.

Will Mr. Bingley soon
be returning your call?

Did he furnish you
with that impression?

You did tell him about the girls?

As little as possible, Mrs. Bennet.

In view of their ignorance
and silliness it seemed sensible.

I dare say, he may call.

And now I have said
all I will say on the subject

and I do not wish
to hear any more about it.

- Kitty?
- Yes, papa?

You may now cough
as much as you choose.

Oh, hush, Lydia!

Please, hush.

I don't call that handsome.
All right, but not handsome.

Where's his uniform?

He isn't an officer,
you silly. He's nothing.

Come away the window, please.

I like him.

He appears intelligent and serious.

A serious and intelligent man

wants a serious and
accomplished partner.

Looks are not everything.

Character is more - and
accomplishment, of course.

Come in.

Lydia, dear, you will need
to tuck a little lace tomorrow.

- No, I won't.
- She will, lady Lucas, won't she?

- She will.
- Look some out, dear.

And how is dear Charlotte's
dress, lady Lucas?

It is very well.
New, of course, not made over.

Dear Charlotte - always
looks best in a new dress,

and of course never has
the bother of tucking lace.

Such a dear girl, such
a friend to Elizabeth.

Dear lady Lucas, if I can but
see one of my daughters

settled at Netherfield, and all of
the others equally well married,

I shall have nothing to wish for.

The Bingleys are people
of society, Mrs. Bennet.

Mr. Bingley's appearance
is perhaps deceptive,

he has such easy, unaffected manners -

he goes everywhere, sees anyone.

But his sisters are very fine.

They have an air of decided fashion.

What do you try to say, lady Lucas?

My girls are good enough for anyone.

And your Charlotte is too, I'm sure.

My only fear is Mr. Bingley will
not be at the ball tomorrow.

He is always flying about
from place to place.

He is not in Netherfield
at the moment, they say.

Where can he have gone?

To fetch a party from London
for tomorrow, mama.

Twelve ladies, and seven gentlemen.

No, the other way round!
It must be the other way round -

twelve gentlemen and seven ladies.

Lydia, your lace has slipped.

Mother, Lydia's lace tuck has slipped.

Lydia looks very well, Mary.

Lydia always looks very well.

I wish I could say the same for you.

You read too much.
No wonder you're short-sighted.

- There.
- How will I look, Elizabeth?

He will love you at first sight, Jane.

You are ridiculous, Eliza.

Only two ladies.

Mr. Bingley would be quite handsome
in uniform, I dare say.

That's miss Bingley,
the unmarried one.

Who would want
to marry her? So thin.

That's Mrs. Hurst, his other sister.

I can't think how she managed.

And that's Mr. Hurst.
He's quite the gentleman.

But he's married, isn't he?

And that's Mr. Bingley's
friend, Mr. Darcy.

He has 10,000 a year and
a large estate in Derbyshire.

- How do you know?
- Everyone knows.

It's common knowledge.

He is far handsomer
than Mr. Bingley. Finer, too.

Yes, he is.
But he's very proud.

Did you see that?

He is above his company,
unworthy of his friend.

He has £10,000 a year, mother.

I am surprised at you, Lizzie.

It is a most disagreeable countenance,
he's above being pleased.

- I do agree with you.
- Sir William Lucas has quite betrayed me.

He will do anything
to get Charlotte off his hands.

Look at her!

Go where you will be less obvious.
You're not dancing.

What is 10,000 a year

compared to a man with
a pleasing disposition?

Not worth considering.
Where's his uniform?

The proudest, most disagreeable
man in the world.

Come, Darcy, I must have you dance.

I hate to see you standing around
in this stupid manner.

With such company as this assembly
can afford it would be insupportable.

Saving your sisters,
there is not a woman in the place

it would not be a punishment
to stand up with.

The room is full of pleasant girls,
some of them uncommonly pretty.

The eldest miss Bennet, perhaps,
but you are dancing with her.

She is the most beautiful
creature I ever beheld.

- But she has a sister -
- she has too many sisters.

Miss Elizabeth Bennet is charming.

She is tolerable, but not
handsome enough to tempt me.

I cannot, after all give
consequence to young ladies

who are slighted by other men.

Excuse me.

Lizzie, you lose nothing by
not smiting that man's fancy.

This disagreeable, horrid man.

"Not handsome enough"
to dance with, indeed!

I shall never recover from the
slights of this evening, never.

We have had the most
delightful evening, Mr. Bennet,

the most excellent ball.
You should have been there.

Jane was so admired.

Mr. Bingley thought her beautiful

and danced with her twice.

And the two third
he danced with miss King,

and the two fourth
he danced with Maria Lucas,

- and the two sixth -
- if he had compassion for me,

he'd have sprained his ankle
in the first dance.

And I never, in all my life,
saw anything more elegant

than the miss Bingley dresses.

Stop! I warn you, I will have
no descriptions of finery.

Mary was mentioned
to the miss Bingleys

as the most accomplished girl
in the neighbourhood,

and Kitty and Lydia were
never without partners.

- Lydia's lace slipped.
- Of course.

And - Lizzie?

Lizzie was slighted by Mr. Darcy.

So high and conceited -
I quite detest the man.

He walked here, and he walked there,

fancying himself so great.

"Not handsome enough
to dance with," indeed!

I wish you had been there
to give him one of your set downs.

Such ease... Such manners,

such perfect breeding.

You've liked many a stupider
person, I will say that.

Lizzie!

You are a great deal too apt
to like people in general.

You never find fault in anyone.

I have never heard you speak ill

of another human being in my life.

- I always say what I think.
- That is the wonder of it.

You liked his sisters, too, I dare say?

I did not, not at first.

But after a little while they
appeared quite pleasing.

Humph!

I was very much flattered by his
asking me to dance a second time.

Dear Jane, he admired you.

I did not expect such a compliment.

That is the wonder of it.

Compliments always take you by surprise,
and me never.

Horrid Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth.

To say such things in your hearing.

What Mr. Bingley sees
in him, I cannot think.

Mr. Bingley sees in Mr. Darcy

a man whose breeding -
if not his manners -

is superior to his own.

The Bingley fortune, after all,
has been acquired from trade,

unlike Mr. Darcy's.

Mr. Bingley has one great
advantage, however.

He is sure of being liked
wherever he goes,

whereas wherever Mr. Darcy
appears, he gives offense.

Quite. I wonder what
they are saying of us?

A collection of people in whom
there is little beauty and no fashion.

I don't feel the slightest
interest in any of them

and fail to see how you
can possibly do so.

This place is the end
of the world, Bingley.

They retire so early.

I like it here.
It is a good enough house,

one has the liberty of a manor -

a man must have an estate of his own -

if he cannot have his father's -

and I never met pleasanter
people in my life,

or prettier girls, come to that.

Oh- the eldest miss Bennet is an angel.

Such ease, such manners,

such beauty, such kindness.

- She smiles too much.
- I'm sure I wish I smiled more.

But at what?
Life's so dull.

- She is a sweet girl.
- I quite liked her.

One must converse
with someone, I dare say.

That is so. Especially when
one is in the countryside.

The eldest miss Bennet
is allowed to be a sweet girl,

for lack of competition.

Bingley, you may think
of her as you choose.

But not aloud.

One last game?

What is a ball, if not to be talked over?

What are young men,
if not to be discussed?

You began the evening well, Charlotte.

You were Mr. Bingley's first choice.

But he seemed to like
his second better, Jane.

Mr. Bingley was overheard to say

that the eldest miss Bennet was
"the prettiest woman in the room".

Mr. Darcy was not so well worth
overhearing, was he?

Poor Lizzie, to be only just "tolerable".

Mr. Darcy is so disagreeable, Lydia,

that to be liked by him
would be a misfortune.

They say he sat next to
Mrs. Long for half an hour

and never said a single word.

I dare say he found out she came
in a chaise, not a carriage.

But miss Bingley did tell me
Mr. Darcy never does speak much,

unless among intimate acquaintances.

Oh, Jane!

There is perhaps
an excuse for his pride.

One cannot help but wonder
that so very fine a young man

with family, fortune,
everything in his favour,

should think highly of himself.

If I may so express it,

he has a right to be proud.

That is perhaps true.

I could more easily forgive his pride,

had he not mortified mine.

Pride is a very common failing,
I believe.

By all that I have ever read,

I am convinced that it
is very common indeed,

that human nature
is particularly prone to it,

and there are very few of us
who do not cherish

a feeling of self-complacency
on some quality or other,

real or imagined.

So you would always keep
the world in the dark, Lizzie.

But if a woman conceals her
affection from the object of it,

she may lose the opportunity
of fixing him.

In nine cases out of 10,
a woman had better show

more affection than she feels.

Although very few of us
have heart enough

to be in love without encouragement,

Mr. Bingley undoubtedly admires Jane.

She had better help his admiration on.

If I were determined
to get a rich husband,

I dare say I should adopt
such a plan, but I am not.

Mr. Darcy admires you, Elizabeth.

Mr. Darcy?

He does overlisten
my conversations. Why?

You better ask Mr. Darcy that yourself.

That would be impertinent.

But if I am not impertinent soon,

I shall grow afraid of him.

He has a very satirical eye.

Come along, Charlotte.

Do you not think, Mr. Darcy,

I expressed myself
remarkably well just now?

You were talking of dancing.

- That always renders a woman eloquent.
- You are severe on us.

It will be her turn to be teased now.

I am going to take you to the piano,
and you know what follows.

You are a strange creature
by way of a friend,

always wanting me to play and sing
before anybody and everybody.

If my vanity had taken a musical turn,

you would have proved invaluable,

but as it is -

Oh, very well.

There is a fine old saying, Mr. Darcy,

with which everyone here is familiar.

"Keep your breath
to cool your porridge."

I shall keep mine
to swell my song.

¶ Down yonder
green valley ¶

¶ where streamlets
meander ¶

¶ when twilight
is fading ¶

¶ I pensively rove ¶

¶ or at the bright
noontide ¶

¶ in solitude wander ¶

¶ amid the dark shades ¶

¶ of the lonely
ash grove ¶

¶ 'twas there while
the blackbird ¶

¶ was cheerfully
singing ¶

¶ I first met
that dear one ¶

¶ the joy of my heart ¶

¶ around us
for gladness ¶

¶ the bluebells
were ringing ¶

¶ ah, then
little thought I ¶

¶ how soon
we should part. ¶

Mary must
sing now, Lizzie.

She is so talented.

¶ Early one morning ¶

¶ just as the sun
was shining ¶

¶ I heard
a young maid sing ¶

¶ in the valley below ¶

¶ oh, don't deceive me ¶

¶ oh, never leave me ¶

¶ how could you use ¶

¶ a poor maiden so? ¶

¶ oh, gay is the garland... ¶

- Shh! Shh!
- ¶ how fresh are the roses ¶

¶ I've culled
from the garden ¶

¶ to bind on thy brow ¶

¶ oh, don't deceive me ¶

¶ oh, never leave me ¶

¶ how could you use ¶

¶ a poor maiden so? ¶

that will do, dear.
You delighted us for long enough.

There's nothing like dancing, sir.

One of the first refinements
of polished societies.

It is certainly widespread.
Every savage dances.

Dear miss Eliza,
why are you not dancing?

Mr. Darcy, miss Eliza?

Mr. Darcy, you cannot refuse to dance

when so much beauty is before you.

I have not the least
intention of dancing,

and certainly not
of begging for a partner.

Miss Bennet, I'd be honoured.

You excel so much in the dance,
that Mr. Darcy,

who in general dislikes the amusement,
wishes to oblige.

Mr. Darcy is all politeness.

- I can guess.
- What can you guess?

You find it all so insupportable.

So do I.
Such insipidity,

yet such noise, and nothingness
as self-importance.

No, I have been meditating
upon the very great pleasure

which a pair of fine eyes in the face
of a pretty woman can bestow.

- And who has inspired that?
- Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

I am all amazement.
When am I to wish you joy?

A lady's imagination is very rapid.

It jumps from admiration to love,

from love to matrimony in a moment.

No, 'twas your imagination that did that.

I hope your mother-in-law
bestows equal pleasure.

She's sure to move in and live
with you at Pemberley.

She has fine eyes as well, or had.

It is true that since my father's
elevation to knighthood

he has occupied himself
in being civil to all the world,

sometimes without discretion.

I am sorry.

Neither your father nor your mother
could give offense.

You are fortunate in parents, Charlotte.

I wish I could gratify them more.

I am 27, Lizzie.
I have never been handsome,

and am less and less likely
to find a husband

with every dance my father gives,
however grand.

Since you do not think highly
of matrimony or men,

marriage can hardly be
your object, Charlotte.

But it must be.

My brothers live in the apprehension
of my dying an old maid.

Marriage is the only honourable provision

for a well-educated young woman
of small fortune,

however uncertain it may
be of giving happiness.

You are too prudent, too steady.

But I know you too well
and love you too much,

to believe your chief business in life

is the getting of a husband.

- Oh, papa!
- No, I will not have it.

You must be two of the
silliest girls in the country.

But you cannot object to your
daughters visiting my sister.

They do not go to visit their aunt.

They go to visit the officers -
gossip, and giggle, and flirt.

You should not be so ready
to think your own children silly.

When Lydia and Kitty are our age,

they will not think of redcoats
any more than we do.

But in the meanwhile,

if a smart young colonel
of 5,000 or 6,000 a year

wants one of my girls,
I will not say nay to him.

Thank you.

Jane, who is it from?

Make haste, my love.

It is from miss Bingley.

I am invited to dine at Netherfield.

Oh, but the gentlemen

are dining out with the officers.
That's most unlucky.

Oh, they've left out Lizzie.

You should never have sung, Lizzie.
You have not the voice.

Can I have the carriage?

Your father cannot spare the horses.

They are wanted on the farm,
are they not?

You will have to go on horseback.

- But why, mother?
- Because...

It seems quite likely to rain...

And you must stay all night.

It is raining.
I am mortified.

What a lucky idea of mine.

Still raining, and dear
Jane's caught a chill.

How admirably things work out.

If your daughter should die,
it will be a comfort to know

it was in pursuit of Mr. Bingley
under your orders.

People do not die of little trifling colds.

As long as she stays where she is,
all is very well.

I shall go and visit her.

Is that a hint for me
to send for the horses?

No. I shall walk.

And arrive muddy?
Three miles?

I shall walk, since I am obliged to.

Very well, walk!

I admire the activity
of so much benevolence,

but every impulsive feeling
should be guided by reason.

In my opinion,

exertion should always be in
proportion to what is required.

To walk three miles so early
in the day in such weather?

- And by yourself?
- It was not so far and not so wet,

nor did I feel lonely.

We are city folk, I fear,
and not so brave as you.

Come near the fire,
miss Eliza, you're cold.

You must not follow
your sister's example.

Thank you.

How is she?

Thank you.

It is late. I really must take my leave.

Shall I send for the carriage?

- Thank you.
- Don't go, Eliza.

It seems you must stay the night,

miss Eliza Bennet,
for your sister's sake.

We must send a servant
for your clothes.

Pray, do not bother.
But thank you,

I should like to stay with Jane.

But you must have clothes.

It is time for us to dress for dinner.

Pray excuse us, miss Eliza.

But she must have clothes.

They regard me as an intruder.

Indeed they do not.

It is only you they like.

Will you not join us for cards?

Thank you, I will amuse
myself with a book.

Do you prefer reading to cards?

How very singular.

Miss Eliza Bennet despises cards.

She is a great reader and has
no pleasure in anything else.

I am not a great reader,

and I have pleasure
in many things.

In nursing your sister, for one.

Young ladies are so very accomplished.

It is amazing how they can all have
the patience to be so accomplished.

All young ladies?
What do you mean?

I never heard a young lady
spoken of for the first time

without being informed that
she was "very accomplished."

The word is applied to many
a woman who deserves it

only for painting tables
or covering screens.

I only know half a dozen young ladies
who are truly accomplished.

Then you must demand
a great deal of them.

Yes, I do.

She must have a thorough
knowledge of music, singing,

dancing, drawing,
and modern languages.

She must possess
a certain something

in her air and manner of walking,

the tone of voice,
in her address and expression.

And to all this, she must add

to the improvement of her mind
by extensive reading.

And you know half a dozen?

I rather wonder at you knowing any.

You are severe upon your own sex.

I never saw such a woman.
She does not exist.

Oh she exists, miss Eliza,

in the form of his own sister.

Miss Georgiana Darcy
is a paragon

of everything desirable
in a young woman.

Indeed she is.

I am a little tired.
Pray excuse me. Good night.

- Good night.
- Good night.

Eliza Bennet
is one of those who seek

to recommend themselves
to the opposite sex

by undervaluing their own. Paltry art.

There is a meanness in all the arts

by which women seek to captivate men.

Whatever bears affinity
to cunning is despicable.

Jane! They are monsters.
They like nothing.

They dislike everything,
and will have no argument.

If they prefer ragout to fricassee,

anyone who chooses fricassee
is beneath their contempt.

She is safely upstairs.

Her manners are so bad.

A mixture of pride and impertinence.

No conversation, no style,

- no taste, no beauty.
- Doesn't like ragout?

But she's clearly an excellent walker.

Ugh -- these country folk --
she looked almost wild.

Hair so untidy, so blowsy,

her petticoat, six inches deep in mud.

I did not notice her petticoat,

I noticed her face, and thought
she looked remarkably well.

You must have noticed it, Mr. Darcy.

You would not wish your sister
to appear like that.

True, but miss Eliza Bennet
is not my sister.

All the same, her sudden appearance

on such a spurious excuse
as her sister's illness

must have affected your
admiration of her "fine eyes."

Not at all. They were
brightened by the exercise.

Now, Jane Bennet is a sweet girl.

And I wish with all my heart
she were well settled.

With such a mother, and a father
with a mere 2000 a year,

and that entailed away
from his daughters --

an Uncle who is an attorney,

another who lives in -- Cheapside.

And oh, those little sisters!

If she had uncles
to fill all of Cheapside,

it would not make her
one jot less agreeable.

But it must lessen her chance
of marrying a man

of any consideration
in the world.

And the chance of her sister
Elizabeth, too.

Quite so.

Now perhaps we can forget
the mud on her petticoat.

I know why Mr. Darcy looks at me so.

It is because he finds something in me

more wrong and reprehensible,

according to his idea of right,
than anybody else in the room.

Poor Eliza.

His opposition does not pain me.

I like him too little to care
for his approbation.

Jane, please get better soon.

I'm doing my best.

- She is far too ill to be moved.
- Yes?

The doctor says we must
not think of moving her.

I will not hear of her being moved.

Miss Bennet will receive

every attention while
she remains with us.

She suffers so much.
She has the sweetest temper.

I often say to my other girls,
they're nothing to her.

Such a charming house, Mr. Bingley.

You will not think of quitting it
in a hurry, I hope?

Whatever I do is done in a hurry.

Should I resolve
to quit Netherfield,

I shall probably
be off in five minutes.

However, at present
I consider myself quite fixed here.

That is exactly what I supposed of you.

Oh, you begin to understand me, do you?

Oh, yes, I understand you -
perfectly.

I wish I could take that
for a compliment,

but to be so easily
seen through is pitiful.

It does not necessarily follow

that deep and intricate characters
are more estimable

from such a one as yours.

Remember where you are!
Do not run on

in the wild manner you are
suffered to do at home.

I did not know you were a studier
of character. It must be amusing.

Yes, I am. And intricate characters
are the most amusing.

In general, there can be few
subjects for such a study.

In a country neighbourhood you move
in a very confined, unvarying society.

But people alter so much.

There is something new
always to be observed.

I can assure you,
there is as much of that

going on in the country
as in the town.

I don't see that London has
any particular advantage

over the country, except
the shops and public places...

The country is pleasanter,
is it not, Mr. Bingley?

I can be happy in either.

Ah, that's because you have
the right disposition.

But that gentleman seems to think
the country was nothing.

Mama, you quite mistook Mr. Darcy.

He only meant there was not
such a variety of people

to be met with in the
country as in the town,

which you must acknowledge to be true.

Most certainly, but there are
few neighbourhoods larger,

I'm sure we dine with
four and twenty families,

and all of style and fashion.

Only last week we dined tête-à-tête
with sir William Lucas.

So much the man of society, so genteel,

and his daughter Charlotte's
such a friend to my girls.

Pity she is not more handsome.

But miss Charlotte
seemed very pleasant.

Well, you must own she is rather plain.

I don't like to boast of my own girls,

but one does seldom see anyone

better looking than Jane.

When she was only 15,

a very fine gentleman -- in town

sent us some verses,
and very pretty they were.

And so ended his affection.

I wonder who first discovered

the efficacy of poetry
in driving love away.

I have been used to considering
poetry as the food of love.

Of a fine, stout,
healthy love, it may be.

Everything nourishes
what is strong already.

But if it be only a thin,
slight sort of inclination,

I am convinced that one good sonnet
will starve it entirely away.

Mr. Bingley, you promised us a ball!

We are all depending on it.

It would be shameful to forget,
we will never forgive you.

Please, Mr. Bingley.

There are new officers in town
we are pining to meet.

When your sister
is recovered, miss Lydia,

you shall, if you please,

name the very day of the ball.

I hope that after your
marriage to miss Bennet

you'll give your mother-in-law
a few hints

as to the advantage
of holding her tongue,

and somehow be able
to cure the younger girls

of running after officers.

Aunt and Uncle Philips --

do let their portraits
be placed in Pemberley.

How well they will blend
with your ancestors'.

You write uncommonly fast, Mr. Darcy.

You are mistaken,
I write rather slowly.

Business letters?
How odious I should find them.

It is fortunate then that they
fall to my lot than yours.

But this is a letter to my sister,
as I have already mentioned.

Pray, tell your sister
that I long to see her.

I have already done so, twice.

- Let me mend your pen.
- Thank you, I mend my own.

How can you contrive to write
so beautifully even?

- Miss Bingley...
- Do I disturb you?

Pray tell me if I disturb you,
Mr. Darcy.

Do I disturb you?

When my brother writes a letter,
I marvel equally.

He leaves out half the words,
and blots the rest.

My ideas flow so rapidly,
I have not time to express them.

My letters as a consequence,
mean nothing to their recipients.

Your humility, Mr. Bingley,
must disarm reproof.

On the contrary, nothing is more deceitful
than the appearance of humility.

Bingley has just uttered
an indirect boast.

He is proud of his
defects in writing,

since they're consequent
upon rapidity of thought.

The power of doing
anything quickly

is always much prized
by its possessor,

however imperfect the performance
which may result.

Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley
is your friend.

I assure you, if Mr. Darcy
were not such a great tall fellow,

I should not pay him
half so much deference.

But I declare I do not know
a more awful object than Darcy

on particular occasions,
and in particular places,

at his own house especially --

and of a Sunday evening,
when he has nothing to do.

Do you not feel a great inclination,
miss Bennet,

to seize upon this opportunity
of dancing a reel?

- Miss Bennet, I inquired --
- I heard you the first time.

But I was puzzled
as to know how to reply.

If I said yes, you would
despise my taste in reels.

If I said no, you would despise
my taste in rejecting you.

No, I do not wish to dance a reel.

Now despise me, if you dare.

Indeed, I do not dare.

Miss Eliza Bennet, let me persuade
you to follow my example

and take a turn about the room.

I assure you, it is very refreshing.

Mr. Darcy, won't you join us?

Thank you, no.
I can imagine but two motives

for your choosing to walk up
and down the room together.

My joining you would
interfere with both.

I wonder what can be his meaning?

I am dying to know
what can be his meaning.

Miss Bennet, do you begin
to understand such a man?

Not at all.
But depend upon it,

he means to be severe on us,

and our surest way
of disappointing him

will be to ask him nothing about it.

I insist upon knowing his meaning.

Very well. You choose to walk
about the room together

because you are in each
other's confidence,

or you are conscious
that your figures

appear to the greatest
advantage in walking.

If the first, I should be
completely in your way;

if the second, I can admire
you better as I sit here.

How shall we punish him
for such a speech?

We can all plague and
punish one another,

if we have the inclination.
Laugh at him.

We will not, if you please,
expose ourselves

by attempting to laugh
without a subject.

No, indeed, Mr. Darcy
is not to be laughed at.

An uncommon advantage.
I hope it will remain uncommon

amongst my acquaintance,
because I love to laugh.

The best and worst of men
may be rendered ridiculous

by a person whose first
object in life is a joke.

I do not ridicule
what is wise and good.

I laugh at nonsense and follies,

whims and inconsistencies,
vanity, pride--

vanity is a weakness, but pride,

where there is a real superiority
of mind, perhaps not.

Mr. Darcy has no defect.

He owns it to himself without disguise.

Do let us have a little more music.

Louisa, you will not mind
my waking Mr. Hurst to sing for us?

Please, wake him.

Miss Bennet, I have faults enough,

but they are not, I hope,
of understanding.

My temper is, I believe,
too little yielding.

I cannot forget
the follies and vices of others,

nor their offenses
against myself.

My good opinion,
once lost, is lost forever.

You have chosen
your defect well, Mr. Darcy.

Implacable resentment

cannot be laughed at.
You are safe from me.

There must in every disposition
be a tendency to one evil,

one natural defect.

And your defect is a propensity
to hate everybody.

And yours is wilfully
to misunderstand them.

Jane... You must ask to borrow
Mr. Bingley's carriage.

This is unendurable.
Mr. Darcy has scarcely spoken

ten words to me
through the whole of today.

Miss Eliza Bennet, we've so
enjoyed your lively company,

your valuable remarks.

Miss Bennet, it will always give me
pleasure to see you again,

either at our home, or even yours.

Dear Jane, miss Eliza Bennet.

I do wonder at your coming.

And it was wrong of you to borrow
their carriage, we have one of our own.

Whatever will they think of us?

Jane, you are sure
to have caught cold again,

and what value
is that to you here?

My own Jane and Elizabeth,
I have been mistaken in you.

Without the pair of you,
evening conversation

has been devoid of much of its
animation and all of its sense.

I have been considering
the subject of coughing,

and measure to which
the body and soul conflict.

You may wish to hear my conclusions.

There was a flogging at
the barracks, a private.

- Who would flog an officer?
- He will be striped for life.

Colonel Forster is to be married.

That is far more interesting
than any flogging.

- Now are you happy?
- Yes. It is home,

and I am accustomed to it.