Golde...Do you love me?Do I what? !Ssh!Do you love me?Do I love you?Well?With our daughters getting marriedAnd this trouble in the townYou're upset, you're worn outGo inside, go lie downMaybe it's indigestion.Ah, no, Golde, I'm asking you a question.Do you love me?You're a fool.I know.But do you love me?Do I love you?Well?For 25 years, I've washed your clothesCooked your meals, cleaned your houseGiven you children, milked your cowAfter 25 years, why talk about love right now?Golde.The first time I met youWas on our wedding day- I was scared - I was shy- I was nervous - So was IBut my father and my motherSaid we'd learn to love each otherAnd now I'm asking, GoldeDo you love me?I'm your wifeI know.But do you love me?Do I love him?Well?For 25 years, I've lived with himFought with himStarved with him25 years, my bed is hisIf that's not love, what is?Then you love me?I suppose I do.And I suppose I love you, tooIt doesn't change a thingBut even soAfter 25 yearsIt's nice to know
Conway: She was deeply attached, I suppose, to the man she was to have married?Chang: Hardly that, my dear sir, since she had never seen him. It was the old custom, you know. The excitement of her affections was entirely impersonal.