– 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...