Victor Van Dort: [alone in the forest, practicing his vows] With this hand I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine. - Ah, Mrs. Everglot. You look ravishing this evening. What's that, Mr. Everglot, call you "Dad"? If you insist, Sir. - With this candle, I will light your way in darkness. With this ring, I ask you to be mine.

[He places the ring on what he thinks is a root. As he turns away, the root shoots out, grabs Victor's arm and almost pulls him into the ground. Victor pulls himself free and finds a detatched skeletal hand gripping his arm. He watches as the ground gives way and an unearthly female figure, wearing a dishevelled wedding dress, rises from beneath the tree. She pulls back her veil]

The Corpse Bride: I do.