ACT THREE
‘The Kingis chalmer in the palace of Halyroudhous’, Edinburgh, XI August, 1593. Early morning.
The KING’s bed-chamber in Holyrood House. The window-curtains are drawn close, but the curtains of the bed are open and the bed-clothes undisturbed. A fire is burning, and there are lit candles on the table.
The KING, cloaked and booted for travelling, is sitting writing. He glances up now and again furtively, as though listening for every sound.
Suddenly he appears to hear something from the direction of the QUEEN’S chamber. He rises silently from his chair and backs away towards the door of the audience-chamber, concealing the letter he has been writing. The QUEEN’S door opens and the Earl of Morton’s daughter, wearing a cloak over her nightgown, enters on tiptoe. She carries a shaded lantern. She closes the door quietly. The KING comes forward to her. They speak softly.
THE KING: Did Lesley manage oot?
THE GIRL: I dinna ken yet. I took him doun to the covert causey, but he’ll hae to bide there till the mune’s daurkent afore he can cross the coortyaird. The gairds are aa on the alert.
THE KING: Guid God, I hope he’ll manage through. He suldna hae left his horse in the stables. If he’s catchit wi that letter they’ll stop me tae. Is there nae word frae the ithers at aa yet?
THE GIRL: They’re gaun to bring their horses to St Mary’s Wynd. Ye hae to leave whan there’s a rattle at the winnock. Ye maun gang through the Abbey Kirk nave and oot by the abbot’s door, syne through the kirkyaird to the back yett. Twa ο them’ll meet ye there.
THE KING: Could they no hae met me nearer haund?
THE GIRL: Na. Ogilvy has to rattle at the winnock wi a haundfou ο stanes, then mak for the wynd by the North Gairdens. He daesna want to tak the same gait as yersell in case he’s seen.
THE KING: And what aboot the Erskines?
THE GIRL: Ane ο them’ll hae to haud the horses, and the ither twa hae the porter at the yett to deal wi.
THE KING: They micht hae foun some ither way. It’ll be gey frichtsome crossin that kirkyaird in the daurk.
THE GIRL: It’s faur frae daurk, yer Grace. It’s that bricht wi the mune ye’ll hae to hide gey low ahint the heid- stanes.
THE KING: (shivering) I wish it was aa ower. Is her Grace sleepin soun?
THE GIRL: Ay. Aa wad be as quait as the grave gin it werena for the gairds.
THE KING: Dinna mention graves! I’ll see eneugh ο them the nicht! Has there been nae steer frae Bothwell or the Lords?
THE GIRL: Na. They had sic a nicht wi the drams that they’ll sleep till denner-time the morn.
THE KING: Aa richt, then. I hae a letter I maun feenish. Gae ower to the winnock and listen for the rattle. Will it come sune?
THE GIRL: As sune as Ogilvy kens they hae the horses there.
THE KING: Listen weill, then and be as quait as ye can.
(The GIRL placing her lantern on the floor, goes to the windo. The KING sits down again and goes on with his letter. As he concludes it and is drying the ink the clock on the Canongait steeple strikes three. Both start at the first note)
THE KING: That’s three. They’re late.
(Immediately he has spoken there is a faint commotion from somewhere beyond the interior of the Palace)
THE KING: What’s that?
THE GIRL: (rushing over to him on tiptoe) It’s frae the ither end ο the coortyaird!
THE KING: It maun be Lesley!
THE GIRL: Oh what a shame!
THE KING: The thowless gommeril! Wheesht!
(The commotion continues. There are a few distant shouts and sounds of people running backwards and forwards. Suddenly there is a rattle of stones on the window)
THE GIRL: (excitedly and rather loudly) That’s Ogilvy!
THE KING: (picking up his letter quickly) I’ll hae them dished yet! Come on!
(The GIRL picks up the lantern and moves with the KING quickly to the QUEEN’s door. Voices are heard suddenly from the QUEEN’s chamber)
THE GIRL: She’s wauken!
THE KING: Guid God almichty! (Pulling her back from the QUEEN’s door) Sh! Oh, what’ll I dae?
THE GIRL: Try the ither door! Ye micht win through!
THE KING: It’s ower weill gairdit, I tell ye!
THE GIRL: (hurrying over to the door of the audience-chamber) It’s yer ae chance! Hurry! She micht come in!
(Voices are heard again from the QUEEN’s chamber. The KING hurries over beside her) Tak ye the lantern! I’ll bide here! (She gives him the lantern and opens the door. More stones rattle on the window) There’s the rattle again. Oh, man, hurry!
(The KING hurries out nervously. The GIRL closes the door quietly, looks anxiously at the QUEEN’s door, hesitates, blows out the candles and goes behind the window-curtains. The QUEEN enters with LADY ATHOLL. Both have cloaks over their nightgowns and the QUEEN carries a candle)
THE QUEEN: The bed! It is toom! He is gaen!
LADY A: I’m share I heard him.
THE QUEEN: And wha else? He daesna speak wi himsell! Look for the Earl Morton his dochter! See if she sleep!
(LADY ATHOLL hurries out again. The QUEEN goes to the door of the dressing-closet, holds up the candle and looks in. There is a knock at the door of the audience-chamber)
THE QUEEN: (turning) Come in.
(SIR JAMES MELVILLE enters wearing a long nightgown and cowl. He carries a candle)
MELVILLE: Paurdon me, yer Grace, but I wonert if his Grace was safe. There’s been a steer in the coortyaird.
THE QUEEN: The bed! See! He is awa!
MELVILLE: Awa! But whaur can he be?
THE QUEEN: I want to fin oot!
(LADY ATHOLL enters)
LADY A: Morton’s dochter’s gaen tae! She isna in her bed!
THE QUEEN: I kent it! He luve her!
LADY A: But whaur are they?
THE QUEEN: They hide! Ablow the bed! Look!
LADY A: But there was a steer in the coortyaird! They maun hae gaen oot!
THE QUEEN: Sir Jamie! Look ablow the bed!
(SIR JAMES goes down on his knees to look below the bed. Two pistol shots are heard from beyond the window)
THE QUEEN: (looking towards the window) They bang pistols!
(SIR JAMES rises quickly from his knees. LADY ATHOLL rushes over and draws the curtains from the window. Bright moonlight reveals the GIRL)
LADY A: (startled) Oh!
THE QUEEN: Aha! She is foun! Come oot!
(The GIRL steps forward)
THE QUEEN: Whaur is his Grace?
THE GIRL: I dinna ken.
THE QUEEN: Sir Jamie? Hae ye lookit?
MELVILLE: He isna there, yer Grace.
THE QUEEN: (to the GIRL) Whaur has he gaen?
THE QUEEN: Ye dae ken! Ye lee! Whaur has he gaen? The Queen speirs! Answer!
THE GIRL: I winna!
THE QUEEN: Oho! Ye winna! I will hae ye in the jougs! I will hae ye tied to the Tron! I will hae yer lugs cut aff.
MELVILLE: Yer Grace,
THE QUEEN: Be quait! I speir! I maun be answert! Whaur has he gaen?
MELVILLE: There’s mair noise ootbye!
(There is some shouting from beyond the audience-chamber. All turn to listen. As they do so the KING enters, facing outwards, and closes the door quickly. He turns round to mop his brow and draw a breath of relief, and becomes aware of the others)
THE QUEEN: Aha! Ye are here! Ye are catchit!
MELVILLE: What’s wrang, yer Grace?
THE QUEEN: It is for me to speir!
THE KING: (in an intense whisper) Awa to yer bed and leave me alane!
THE QUEEN: I bide till I hear aa! I will hae it oot! (Pointing to the GIRL) She hide ahint yer curtains! I hear her speak! I hear ye baith speak whan I wauken! What daes she dae in here?
THE KING: (still whispering, almost pleadingly) Dinna shout and wauken the haill Palace!
THE QUEEN: Na! Let nane ken that the King his Grace is catchit wi ane ο the Queen’s leddies! The Preachers micht ding bang on their big books! They micht peynt fingers!
MELVILLE: (soothingly) Ye’d better explain yersell, yer Grace.
THE KING: (still keeping his voice low) Haud ye yer tongue! Ye’re doitit! The lassie’s young eneugh to be my dochter! She was helpin me in maitters ο state!
THE QUEEN: Maitters ο state! Yer dochter! Huh!
THE KING: (losing his temper and raising his voice) Awa to yer beds when ye’re telt! I’m no gaun to be talked to like a bairn! What dae ye think I’m daein wi my ootdoor claes on? Daes it look as if I’m up to ony ο yer Lennox ploys? I’m gaun to Falkland, I tell ye! I’m gaun to win my freedom!
THE QUEEN: Ye were for takin her!
THE KING: Dinna be stippit! She’s in her nichtgoun!
THE QUEEN: She is here and no in bed!
THE KING: She was helpin me to win my wey oot!
THE QUEEN: Ye canna fin yer ain wey oot! Ye need help frae a new lassie! It is lees! She is wi ye aye! She is here afore! I hear souns in the nicht ower and ower again! I thocht! I ken nou! (Almost weeping) Ο Sir Jamie, I am wranged! He shame me! The folk! They will talk! They will sing sangs! (Turning suddenly on the GIRL) Awa! Awa or I will claw yer een oot! I will teir aff yer hair! I will scratch!
(She rushes towards the GIRL, who retreats behind the KING)
THE KING: Leave her alane! Rin, lass!
(The GIRL hurries out by the QUEEN’s door. The KING intercepts the QUEEN by holding her with his free hand)
THE QUEEN: Let me past!
THE KING: (swinging his lantern threateningly) Haud aff, see!
THE QUEEN: (retreating) Oh ye blaggard, ye wad ding me wi yer licht!
THE KING: Staun at peace, then!
THE QUEEN: Oh ye are hairtless! Ye dinna care if I am hurt! Ye say to me like dirt! Ye gar me staun at peace as if I am a cuddy!
(Turning sobbingly to SIR JAMES for comfort) Oh Sir Jamie, it is the hin end! He luve her mair nor me!
MELVILLE: (taking her in his arms. To the KING) Yer Grace, ye hae gaun ower faur!
THE KING: Tak her awa oot ο here.
MELVILLE: Man, ye wadna talk like that gin ye kent ο her condeetion! It’s time yer een were opened! (To LADY ATHOLL) My Leddy, tak her Grace til her bed. Gae awa nou, yer Grace, and hae a guid greit. Ye’re sair ower wrocht.
THE QUEEN: Oh I am dune!
MELVILLE: Ay ay, yer Grace, that’s richt, my Leddy. Tak her awa.
LADY A: (leading the QUEEN out) Come nou, yer Grace.
(The QUEEN, still sobbing, leaves with LADY ATHOLL)
THE KING: (puzzled MELVILLE’s manner) What’s come ower ye?
MELVILLE: (going to the table) We’ll licht the caunles, I think. I maun hae a talk wi ye.
THE KING: Leave the caunles alane! The curtains are open! (Putting his lantern on the table and rushing over to draw the curtains) Damn it, ye’ll sune hae the haill Palace doun on us! What’s come ower ye, I’m askin?
MELVILLE: (lighting the candles) We’ll win faurer, yer Grace, gin ye’ll juist calm yersell and sit doun. I hae something to tell ye that’ll hae a maist momentous effect on yer poseetion as a monarch. Something, I micht venture to say, that’ll cheynge the poleetical situation in ilka realm ο Christendom.
THE KING: Eh?
MELVILLE: Sit doun (The KING, as though hypnotised, sits on the chair beside the bed) Yer Grace, ye’ll ken I play my pairt in the affairs ο the Coort wi dignity and reserve, and haud mysell aloof frae the clavers ο the kitchen and the tittle-tattle ο the Queen’s leddies, but in my poseetion as heid gentleman ο her Grace’s chalmer there’s mony a private maitter comes to my notice that I canna athegither ignore, though I hope I keep aye in mind the fact that my poseetion’s preeviliged, and gaird ilka secret mair nor it were my ain. Nou if her Grace and yersell enjoyed the intimacy and mutual affection that belang o richt to the holy state ο matrimony I wad be spared my praisent predeecament, for nae dout she wad be gey prood to tell ye ο the maitter hersell, but to the sorrow ο yer subjects ye hae baith gaen the gait that leads to dout and suspeecion, and there’s a brek atween ye that can only be mendit by an auld servant like mysell. Yer Grace, I’m gaun to tell ye something that suld gar ye sweir anew the solemn vows ye took at yer nuptials, something that suld gar ye turn again to the bonnie lass ye brocht wi ye frae Denmark, whan yer hairt was lichter nor it is nou, and yer ee was bricht wi luve.
THE KING: (intensely excited) Sir Jamie! Is it a bairn?
MELVILLE: Yer Grace, ye may lippen for an heir in the coorse ο the comin year.
THE KING: (soberly) It’s what I hae hoped for wi aa my hairt. (Pause) But I’m sair bothert wi douts, Sir Jamie. (Bitterly) If I could juist be shair I’ll be the faither!
MELVILLE: Yer Grace!
THE KING: Dinna be an auld wife! Ye ken as weill as mysell that the bairn micht belang to Lennox!
MELVILLE: That’s juist whaur ye’re wrang, yer Grace! I ken it’s yer ain!
THE KING: Hou i’ the Deil’s name can ye ken that?
MELVILLE: Juist listen weill and I’ll explain. It taks a lang experience ο life, yer Grace, to gie a man a knowledge ο human nature, and in that respect I hae the better ο ye.
THE KING: Ay ay, ye’re auld eneugh to be my faither! I ken that!
MELVILLE: Juist that, yer Grace, but I was young ance, and in my early days I had mony an opportunity for insicht that daesna come the wey ο maist men, parteecularly in regaird to the weys ο weemen, for was I no ambassador frae yer mither to her Majesty in England?
THE KING: Ye’re tellin me naethin I dinna ken! Come to the peynt! Hou dae ye ken the bairn’ll be mine?
MELVILLE: I’ll tell ye gin ye’ll juist hae patience.
THE KING: Hou can I hae patience? I hae tried to leave and couldna win past the gairds, and my friends ootbye hae been catchit! Bothwell’ll be in ony meenit! Hou dae ye ken the bairn’ll be mine, I’m askin?
MELVILLE: Weill, yer Grace, I’ll come to the peynt, but it’s a gey kittle maitter to explain in juist ae word.
THE KING: For God’s sake try yer best! Oot wi’t?
MELVILLE: Ye see, whan her Grace fand Morton’s dochter in yer chalmer here she was gey upset.
THE KING: And what aboot it?
MELVILLE: Weill, yer Grace, hae ye eir afore kent her flee intil sic a rage as she did at that lassie, or rack her bonnie breist wi sic mains and sabs? There was mair nor her pride hurt. (With great point) She was jealous! Nou think, yer Grace. Wad she hae felt like that gin she hadna kent ye were the faither ο her bairn?
THE KING: (after a long pause, reflectively) Ye’re richt, Sir Jamie. Ye’re richt. I see it nou. (Contritely) Puir sowl, I haena been guid to her. Nae woner she turnt against me. She gaed daffin wi some ο the Lords, mebbe, but then she was neglecktit. I didna pey her eneugh attention.
MELVILLE: And a bonnie lass, yer Grace, lippens aye for attention.
THE KING: Sir Jamie, I sweir I’ll mak amends. I’ll stert aa ower again. I’ll coort her like a laddie. (Pause) But I’m ower sair beset the nou. I’m hemmed in wi faes. I can hae nae peace till I win my freedom.
MELVILLE: Ye’ll win yer freedom, yer Grace, whan ye show that ye hae nae mair thocht ο haein traffic wi the Papists.
THE KING: Wha eir thocht ο haein traffic wi the Papists? I’m soond in doctrine. I wadna thole the Papists for a meenit gin they werena my ae hope against Bothwell!
MELVILLE: Naen ο the Lords wad hae jeynt wi Bothwell gin ye had keepit the Papists at airm’s length frae the stert!
THE KING: Havers! Hauf ο them jeynt because ο their spite at the Chancellor!
MELVILLE: And had they no just cause? Did the Chancellor no wrang the Bonnie Earl? (More meaningly) And has he no wranged my Lord Lennox and her Grace?
THE KING: I dinna ken, Sir Jamie. I woner.
MELVILLE: He filled yer heid wi lees aboot them.
THE KING: Sir Jamie, I had soond gruns for my suspeecion, I hae seen them thegither in mony a compromisin poseetion.
MELVILLE: Ye were neglectin her, yer Grace. She maun hae led him on juist to anger ye.
THE KING: That was nae excuse for him! He was gey eager to be led!
MELVILLE: Let me ask ye this, yer Grace. Hae ye eir foun my Lord Lennox in her Grace’s chalmer in the middle ο the nicht?
THE KING: Eh!
MELVILLE: I dout there are soond gruns for suspeecion on mair sides nor ane, yer Grace.
THE KING: Sir Jamie, I sweir there’s naething in it. The lass was helpin me to win my wey past the gairds. I haena gien her a thocht.
MELVILLE: Yer Grace, gin ye ettle folk to gie a generous interpretation to yer ain ploys, ye maun be ready to be generous yersell.
THE KING: (diplomatically) Ye’re richt, Sir Jamie. Ye’re richt. I maun be generous. I’ll mak amends. Listen. The Palace seems quait again, but the steer canna hae blawn ower. Bothwell winna be lang. Dae ye think ye could win at Lodovick withoot bein seen? Try to win him roun. Tell him that I ken I hae wranged him. Say I’ll dae aa in my pouer to win back his freindship. Ask him to come in.
MELVILLE: I’ll try, yer Grace.
THE KING: Haud on, though, I hae thocht ο something else. Yer news has gien me hairt. Dae ye no see? It’ll strengthen my poseetion in regaird to the English Croun. What the English want, Sir Jamie, efter aa thae years ο wonerin whaur to turn in the event ο their Queen’s daith, is a settled succession. They’ll hae that nou gin they hae me.
MELVILLE: They’ll hae to be shair that baith King and heir are soond in releegion, yer Grace.
THE KING: Hae nae fear ο that, Sir Jamie. Ance I can redd mysell ο Bothwell I’ll win my wey clear ο the Papists. Man, I wad dearly luve to see her English Majesty’s face whan she hears what ye hae telt me the nicht. It’ll be a bitter dose for her to swallow, that’s a barren stock hersell. Whan ye hae waukent Lodovick, Sir Jamie, try to win through to Sir Robert Bowes. I wad sweir he’s been in tow wi Bothwell, but I neir thocht till this meenit to challenge him till his face. He winna daur acknowledge it. He’ll hae to tak my side. And I’ll mebbe gie him a hint ο hou the wind blaws. Man, that wad tickle him up.
MELVILLE: It wad be a queer time i’ the mornin, yer Grace, to inform a foreign ambassador that there’s an heir on the wey.
THE KING: I want Sir Robert here! I want to play him against Bothwell! Awa and fetch him whan ye’re telt! (Suddenly) What’s that!
(A guard beyond the door of the audience-chamber has been heard making a challenge)
MELVILLE: It soondit like a challenge frae ane ο the gairds!
THE KING: It’s Bothwell nou! Hurry oot! Gae through the Queen’s chalmer!
MELVILLE: But I’ll hae to gang the ither wey to win at my claes!
THE KING: Dae withoot yer claes! It canna be helpit! Lodovick’ll lend ye something! (He opens the door of the QUEEN’s chamber) Hurry!
(SIR JAMES goes into the QUEEN’s chamber. There is a scream, then a sound of voices, then silence as the KING closes the door. He hurriedly removes his cloak and seats himself in the chair beside the bed. The door of the audience-chamber opens and BOTHWELL appears, incompletely dressed, and carrying two letters)
BOTHWELL: (as he opens the door) He’s here. Haud ye the door, Atholl, and keep Colville quait. (Turning into the chamber) Ay ay, yer Grace, sae ye’re haein a quait sit-doun by the fire. Wad ye no feel mair at ease wi yer buits aff?
THE KING: I didna hear ye chappin.
BOTHWELL: I had thocht frae thir twa letters that ye micht be weill on yer wey to Falkland.
THE KING: (restraining a motion of his hand towards the inside of his doublet) What twa letters?
BOTHWELL: Ane directit to my Lord Hume, that was taen frae Lesley in the coortyaird. The ither directit to my Lord Huntly, that was foun at the end ο the ither chalmer. Ye let it drap, nae dout, whan ye were frichtent by the gairds.
THE KING: Sae ye hae read them?
BOTHWELL: I canna deny it, and what I hae read reflects on yer Grace’s honour. Ye’re for slippin awa, are ye, withoot setting yer haund to oor agreement?
THE KING: What’s to hinder me frae gaun nou? Ye hae gotten what ye wantit! Ye hae frichtent the Coort of Session into lettin ye gang skaithless for aa yer North Berwick ploys!
BOTHWELL: I stude my trial and was cleared!
THE KING: Trial! It was nae trial! It was naething but perjury frae stert to feenish! There wasna a lawyer or a witness that wisna feart to speak against ye! Ye had men airmed to the teeth in ilka closs in the Hie Gait! The Tolbooth was like an airmed camp!
BOTHWELL: The case was focht on its merits! Craig my coonsel tore the chairge to shreds!
THE KING: The Prosecution wasna free to speak oot, or Craig wad hae been flummoxed on ilka peynt he raised! The gowk havert the maist illogical nonsense I eir heard in aa my life! Him and his Uvierus! Wha was Uvierus to be coontit an authority? A doctor wha maintained the auld error ο the Sadducees in denying the existence ο speerits! Uvierus, forsooth! I could hae quotit some authorities! What aboot the Daemonomanie ο Bodinus, that’s fou ο witches’ confessions? What aboot the fowerth book of Cornelius Agrippa, that’s fou ο descriptions ο their rites and curiosities? What aboot Hemmingius and Hyperius, that gie ye accoonts ο ilka black airt there is, dividit into the fower heids ο Magic. Necromoncy, Sorcery and Witchcraft? And yer coonsel had the impiddence to deny speerits athegither, and say that witchcraft was a delusion in the minds ο crazed auld weemen! But by God wait! I’m writin a book mysell, and I’ll tak gey guid care to controvert him on ilka peynt he pat forrit!
BOTHWELL: I dout yer book’ll be ower late to mak ony difference to yesterday’s verdict.
THE KING: Verdict! It gars my bluid beyl! Ritchie Graham suld neir hae been brunt! He suld hae been keepit in the Castle jeyl till yer ain trial was ower! He wad hae damned ye!
BOTHWELL: His evidence was brocht forrit!
THE KING: It hadna been taen doun richt! It was aa muddled He suld hae been there to clear up aa the obscurities!
BOTHWELL: Weill, yer Grace, it was yer ain coort that brunt him.
THE KING: It suld hae brunt ye tae! Ye’re a plague! Ye hae been a constant terror to the country sin ye first brak oot ο jeyl! Certies, but yer witchcraft has led ye a bonnie dance! Ye wad neir hae been in bother at aa gin ye had left it weill alane!
BOTHWELL: I hae been cleared, damn ye!
THE KING: Ye tried to hae me drount, I tell ye! Ye tried to pousin me! And for what, Francie? For what? Did the pouer ye had on the Cooncil whan I was in Denmark wi the chancellor gang til yer heid? Did ye think that gin I hadna come back ye wad hae it aa yer ain wey? Ye’re a cauld-bluidit, schemin ambeetious scoondrel!
BOTHWELL: (angrily, with his hands on his hilt) Dinna let yer tongue cairry ye awa wi it!
THE KING: Tak yer haund frae yer hilt, man! Yer threats cairry nae terrors nou! I ken juist hou faur ye can gang! What hae ye dune wi Lesley and the Erskines? What’s happened to Ogilvy? Gin they hae come to hairm I’ll gar ye suffer!
BOTHWELL: They’re lockit up!
THE KING: Then ye’ll let them gang! It’s nae crime to be loyal to yer King!
BOTHWELL: They haena been loyal to me!
THE KING: And wha are ye to demand loyalty? Ye mebbe haena been foun guilty, but ye arena an anointit King! I’m gaun to Falkland, I tell ye, and ye hae nae richt to stop me!
BOTHWELL: I hae a richt to stop ye till ye hae signed oor agreement! I was to be paurdont for treason gin I was acquitit ο witchcraft!
THE KING: Ye promised if ye were acquitit to bide awa frae the Coort!
BOTHWELL: If I was gien my grun back! And if the Bonnie Earl’s murder was avenged!
THE KING: Ye deil, ye mean to stey for ever!
BOTHWELL: I’ll stey till then!
THE KING: We’ll see what the ithers hae to say aboot that!
BOTHWELL: We’ll see what they say aboot thir twa letters!
THE KING: God, ye’re the Deil himsell!
(ATHOLL enters hurriedly)
ATHOLL: (to BOTHWELL) Lennox is here!
BOTHWELL: Eh!
THE KING: Fetch him in! Fetch him in, I tell ye!
(LENNOX appears as he speaks. COLVILLE, very drunk, staggers in behind him).
BOTHWELL: (to ATHOLL, who looks to him for guidance) Let him be. Bide ye ootbye, Colville!
COLVILLE: I want to hear watsh gaun on.
BOTHWELL: Pitch him oot, Atholl.
colville: (to the KING as ATHOLL grips him) Hang the Papists!
(ATHOLL heaves him out. He then closes the door, remaining on guard, but inside)
LENNOX: (ignoring BOTHWELL and turning to the KING) Yer Grace, I heard a steer in the coortyaird and made haste to dress mysell. I thocht ye micht need me.
BOTHWELL: My Lord Duke,
LENNOX: I spak to his Grace!
THE KING: That’s richt, Lodovick! Gar him keep his place! He’s been staunin there talkin like God Almichty!
LENNOX: What is he daein here?
BOTHWELL: I’ll tell ye, my Lord.
THE KING: Ye’ll haud yer tongue! Lodovick, I had planned to gang to Falkland to win oot ο his wey. Ane or twa ο the loyal men in the Palace Gaird were gaun to meet me in St Mary’s Wynd wi horses. I thocht it wad be better to slip awa withoot ony steer. I didna want ony bluidshed. But that blaggard fand oot! He winna let me leave!
LENNOX: (to BOTHWELL) Ye promised to leave his Grace alane gin ye were acquitit at yer trial!
BOTHWELL: He hasna signed the articles ο remission! I was promised back my grun!
THE KING: He says he’s gaun to stey till we avenge the Bonnie Earl!
LENNOX: Juist that! He has nae intention ο leaving the Coort at aa! My Lord, ye needna think we’re blin. Colville’s ower fond ο his dram to mak a guid conspeerator. He’s been braggin ο his appeyntment to the new Privy Cooncil!
THE KING: Eh!
LENNOX: He’s to be yer Grace’s new Lord Secretary!
THE KING: Guid God, the deil can haurdly put pen to pairchment!
BOTHWELL: He’s as guid a clerk as ony at the Coort!
THE KING: He’s an illeeterate ignoramous! And what’s to be yer ain office, whan we’re on the subject? Hae I to staun doun and offer ye my job?
LENNOX: He’s to be Lord Lieutenant, wi Atholl as his depute!
THE KING: A bonnie mess they’d mak atween them! They’d be for herryin and reivin aa ower the country!
ATHOLL: We’d be for keepin yer promise to the Kirk and houndin doun the Papists!
THE KING: Ye’d be for grabbin aa the grun ye could lay yer haunds on! Wha dae ye think ye are, the pair ο ye? Dae ye think that ilka Lord and Laird’s gaun to staun bye and see the like ο ye twa divide the haul country atween ye? There wad be wars, slauchters, spulzies and commotions whaur eir ye gied a tuck ο the drum or a blaw ο the trumpet! And wha wad pey for yer men? The Croun, think ye? What wad the Burghs hae to say to that? Dae ye think they’re gaun to pey taxes to let ye twa rin aboot reivin?
ATHOLL: We’ll hae the Kirk ahint us!
THE KING: What’ll the kirk avail against the Lords and the Burghs? I tell ye, Francie, ye hae shot ower the mark! Ye suld hae been content wi remission! Ye micht hae gotten that!
BOTHWELL: Ye arena at Falkland yet, yer Grace!
THE KING: And wha’ll gar me bide nou? The Toun, think ye, or the ither Lords? Lodovick, fin Ochiltree and Morton!
BOTHWELL: Haud on, my Lord! Ye dinna ken the haill story! Tak a look at thir twa letters.
(He hands them towards LENNOX)
THE KING: (leaning forward and seizing them) Gie them to me, ye blaggard!
BOTHWELL: Ye see, my Lord, he daesna want ye to ken their contents. They were for my Lords Huntly and Hume, nae less.
THE KING: And what wey no? Ye made a jeyl ο my Palace! Had I nae richt to try and win oot? I wrote to the only freinds I thocht I had!
LENNOX: Yer Grace, I dinna blame ye.
BOTHWELL: By God, Lennox, ye hae turnt yer tabard!
LENNOX: I staun whaur I stude aye! I didna bring ye in to usurp royal authority!
BOTHWELL: Ye thocht ye micht usurp it yersell, nae dout!
LENNOX: I had nae thocht bune to save his Grace frae Maitland!
BOTHWELL: What aboot Maitland’s freinds, the very men he’s for jeynin wi at Falkland!
LENNOX: He needna jeyn them gin he can fin freinds nearer haund! Yer Grace, I’ll fetch the ither Lords.
BOTHWELL: (drawing) Ye’ll bide whaur ye are!
(LENNOX is about to draw when he hears ATHOLL drawing also. He pauses with his hand on his hilt)
THE KING: Ye murderin blaggards! Ye cut-throat scoondrels
(There is a knock at the door of the audience-chamber. All turn. The door opens and MELVILLE enters, clad in night-gown, cloak and boots. He looks in alarm at BOTHWELL and ATHOLL, who hasten to sheathe their weapons)
THE KING: Ye see, Sir Jamie, Ye’re juist in time! They were for hackin Lodovick doun! Hae ye brocht Sir Robert Bowes?
MELVILLE: He’ll be doun as sune as he can dress, yer Grace.
BOTHWELL: Eh! What gart ye gang for Sir Robert?
MELVILLE: I gaed at his Grace’s order!
BOTHWELL: Ye auld meddler! Hou did ye pass the gairds?
MELVILLE: Yer gairds didna see me! They had been ower thrang in St Mary’s Wynd! (MORTON suddenly appears at the door of the audience-chamber and shouts to someone beyond, ‘They’re here! Hurry!’ All turn and look towards him. SIR JAMES hastens to explain) Yer Grace, I took the liberty, whan I cam in, to wauken the ither Lords.
(MORTON, dressed in shirt and breeches, and carrying a naked sword, turns into the room)
THE KING: Come in, my Lord. I want ye.
MORTON: (startled) What’s that!
(A sudden thump has been heard. All look towards the door. There are mutterings and exclamations and OCHILTREE enters, in shirt and breeches, holding his brow with one hand and his sword in the other)
LENNOX: What’s wrang wi ye?
OCHILTREE: Wha’s been fechtin? There’s a deid man oot there! I tummlet ower him!
THE KING: It’s that deil Colville lyin drunk! Are ye hurt, my Lord?
OCHILTREE: (rubbing his brow) I gat a gey sair dunt.
THE KING: Ye’ll hae to keep yer freinds in better order, Bothwell!
BOTHWELL: I’m no my blither’s keeper!
THE KING: It was ye that brocht the blaggard here! (To OCHILTREE and MORTON) My Lords, he winna leave the Coort! He threatens to bide and tak office!
OCHILTREE: What! That was nae pairt ο the bargain, my Lord.
BOTHWELL: It was! Ye brocht me in to avenge the Bonnie Earl!
OCHILTREE: Ye were brocht in to force his Grace’s promise! Ye werena brocht in to cairry it oot!
BOTHWELL: And wha’ll dae it gin I dinna bide? He’ll rin back to the Papists at ance!
OCHILTREE: We hae his Grace’s promise that he’ll keep them frae the Coort!
BOTHWELL: He was for sneakin aff this very nicht to Falkland! He had written to Huntly and Hume!
OCHILTREE: I dinna believe it!
LENNOX: (to OCHILTREE) Ye canna blame him! He had to fin freinds somewhaur!
BOTHWELL: He promised to hae nae mair to dae wi the Papists!
LENNOX: He didna ken he was to hae nae freedom. He had yer ain promise to leave the Coort!
BOTHWELL: When I was paurdont and gien back my grun!
MORTON: Yer paurdon was cried at the Cross!
BOTHWELL: What guid will that dae if he ance slips through my fingers?
MORTON: Ye canna haud him in yer pouer aye! There maun be some respect for the Croun! Yer paurdon was promised afore witnesses! They’ll mak shair ye’re gien yer grun back!
BOTHWELL: They’ll mak shair! By God it’s likely! They’ll be ower thrang featherin their ain nests!
OCHILTREE: My Lord, ye dae us wrang!
BOTHWELL: Ye ken I’m richt! (To the others) Ye wantit Maitland oot ο the wey because his freinds had ower muckle pouer, but ye hadna the guts to force his Grace’s haund yersells! Ye had to bring me in! And nou I hae dune it ye’re for houndin me oot! Ye’re feart that gin I bide I’ll hae to share in the favours!
MORTON: Ye hae come oot o’t gey weill, my Lord! Ye hae won yer acquittal!
BOTHWELL: Hae I to thank ye for that? I had to staun my trial for’t!
MORTON: Ye were shair ο the verdict! The Tolbooth was packed wi yer men.
BOTHWELL: By God it was juist as weill! There isna ane ο ye wad hae liftit a finger to help me gin I had been foun guilty! Ye’re a lot ο sleekit, avareecious rats!
MORTON: (gripping his sword fiercely) Ye’re gaun ower faur!
BOTHWELL: Ay ay, Morton, and ye’re the warst o them! I ken what’s gart ye cheynge yer tune! Ye lippen for his Grace’s favour as the price ο yer dochter!
MORTON: (drawing) Ye messan! Tak that back!
BOTHWELL: (likewise) Ye ken it’s the truth!
(They start to fence)
THE KING: (keeping well out of danger) Rin him through, Morton! Hack him to bits!
MELVILLE: Stop them!
ATHOLL: (drawing) Leave them alane!
LENNOX: (turning on ATHOLL) Staun ye back!
OCHILTREE: (stepping over between BOTHWELL and MORTON and striking up their swords) My Lords! Haud doun!
(SPYNIE enters hurriedly)
SPYNIE: For God’s sake quaiten doun! Here’s Sir Robert Bowes!
(All attempt to look respectable)
THE KING: Whaur is he?
SPYNIE: At the faur door ο the ither chalmer. I could hear the steer.
THE KING: Will he hae heard it, think ye?
SPYNIE: I dout sae.
THE KING: Dear me. (Pause) Ay weill, bring him in. (SPYNIE makes to leave) And Spynie! (SPYNIE turns in the doorway) Watch he daesna trip ower Colville. He’s lyin drunk at the door.
SPYNIE: Very weill, yer Grace.
(He leaves)
MELVILLE: It’s the wark ο Providence. We micht aa hae been slauchtert.
THE KING: The credit’s yer ain, Sir Jamie. It was ye wha gaed for him.
(SPYNIE enters with sir ROBERT BOWES)
SPYNIE: (bowing) Sir Robert Bowes.
(He leaves and closes the door)
THE KING: I’m sorry to hae sent for ye at this time ο the mornin, Sir Robert, but yer praisence is needit.
SIR ROBERT: (bowing) Your Majesty, it is indeed early, and the morning is cold. Your business must be urgent.
THE KING: It’s treason, Sir Robert! Naething less! There are some here that wad usurp my authority! Bothwell here threatens to haud me in his pouer! He winna let me leave for Falkland!
SIR ROBERT: Indeed! My Lord Bothwell, I am astounded!
THE KING: Dinna let on to be astoundit at onything he daes! Weill ye ken he’s been a terror to me for the last twa year! He raidit Falkland ance! He’s raidit the Palace here twice! He cam intil my very chalmer a fortnicht syne wi his sword in his haund to gar me gie him back his grun! And nou he threatens to bide on and tak office!
SIR ROBERT: My Lord, you are ambitious! But surely, your Majesty, you can use your royal authority? Have you not power to send him to the gallows? Or do your Lords, too, turn traitor?
THE KING: To tell ye the truith, Sir Robert, it was the ither Lords that brocht him in.
SIR ROBERT: Your Majesty, I feared it. I have been aware, indeed, of the recent events at your Court, for I follow your fortunes closely, and I make bold to say that the pardon of an outlawed traitor, who hath violated the royal chamber and threatened the royal person, is an act that would be unheard of in an ordered Christian realm. It is an act, your Majesty, which the Queen my mistress, secure in her English Court, and accustomed to the obedience and devotion of her subjects, will hear of with profound amazement.
THE KING: Oh ay, Sir Robert, stert to craw. I could keep order tae gin I had the siller. She can afford to keep a guid gaird.
SIR ROBERT: Her ability to do so, your Majesty, may be due to her shrewdness in the administration of her revenues.
THE KING: It weill micht, Sir Robert! We ken she cuts gey close to the bane!
SIR ROBERT: I fear some insult!
THE KING: Ye needna tak offence, Sir Robert! Ye hae juist as muckle as said that I canna look efter my rents! And ye may fein astonishment at this blaggard’s impiddence, and talk aboot yer royal mistress’s amazement, but I’ll hae ye understaun that I hae my douts aboot baith her and yer ain guidwill in the maitter. Bothwell here gaed ower the Border when he was first put to the horn! He was alloued by yer royal mistress to gang skaithless! Is it richt, Sir Robert, for ae country to harbour anither’s ootlaws?
SIR ROBERT: (uneasily) Your Majesty.
THE KING: Ye needna stert to hum and haw! Weill ye ken the deil was gien encouragement! I whiles woner if he wasna gien siller tae, for he keeps a bonnie band ο airmed reivers weill filled wi meat and drink! I tell ye, Sir Robert, I winna staun it muckle langer! Yer royal mistress lets on to be freindly, but if aa the help she can gie me against traitors is to hae ye comin in crawin aboot the devotion ο her English subjects I’ll look for an alliance to some ither country!
SIR ROBERT: Your Majesty!
THE KING: I will, I tell ye! I’m a Protestant! I staun for Episcopacy!11 But suner nor hae my country dividit into factions and wastit wi feids I’ll look for help to Spain and my Papist Lords!
MELVILLE: Yer Grace!
THE KING: Haud ye yer tongue! Sir Robert, what hae ye to say to that?
SIR ROBERT: I would ask, your Majesty, if such an alliance would be acceptable to your subjects. (Cunningly) Must I remind you of your present situation?
THE KING: (as if deflated) Deed, Sir Robert, ye’re richt. I had forgotten. I was cairrit awa.
SIR ROBERT: Your Majesty, your outburst is forgiven. It was due, no doubt to your eagerness to excel in argument.
THE KING: Ye’re richt again. I aye let my tongue rin awa wi me. Sir Robert, ye winna mention my lapse to her Majesty?
SIR ROBERT: You may rely on my discretion.
THE KING: Thank ye, Sir Robert. (With a change of manner) Weill, we haena gotten muckle faurer forrit.
SIR ROBERT: Your Majesty, if you will advise me of the matter in which you seek my guidance, I shall do what I can.
THE KING: Weill, Sir Robert, ye ken what happened a fornicht syne. I was set on by Bothwell and ane ο his ootlawed freinds and the ither Lords stude bye them. Efter they had threatent me wi daith they brocht in the Bailies and the Preachers. I had to promise this blaggard his paurdon for treason gin he was acquitit for witchcraft.
BOTHWELL: Ye promised to avenge the murder ο the Bonnie Earl and hound doun the Papists for the Spanish plots!
SIR ROBERT: (soothingly) My Lord, may I speak with his Majesty?
(BOTHWELL and SIR ROBERT eye each other keenly)
BOTHWELL: Very weill, Sir Robert.
SIR ROBERT: Your Majesty, I fail as yet to see the point at issue. You do intend, of course, to keep your promise?
THE KING: What wey should I? It was extortit!
SIR ROBERT: I sympathise. Your position was unfortunate. But your promise was given, and before representatives of your governing assembly. It will be to your credit to fulfil it.
THE KING: Nae dout, Sir Robert. Nae dout. But Bothwell promised to leave the Coort!
LENNOX: And he threatens to bide!
SIR ROBERT: My Lord!
BOTHWELL: The agreement hasna been signed yet! His Grace was for fleein to Falkland the nicht withoot haein dune it!
SIR ROBERT: But surely, my Lord, you can rely on your King’s honour?
BOTHWELL: He had written to Huntly and Hume!
THE KING: I had to dae something to win my freedom! I wasna gaun to let the blaggard haud me aye in his pouer! Sir Robert, it was my last resort. I wadna hae dune it gin he had left me alane.
SIR ROBERT: (soothingly) Your Majesty, I understand. My Lord Bothwell, your promise to leave the Court was no doubt witnessed by others?
THE KING: It was witnessed by the Lords here praisent!
SIR ROBERT: (airily) Then, your Majesty, my Lords, there is no difficulty. Let all the promises be kept.
BOTHWELL: Gin I leave the Coort, I tell ye, they’ll aa turn against me! I’ll be put to the horn again!
SIR ROBERT: My Lord Bothwell, you must be content with his Majesty’s assurance, given before witnesses, that your pardon will not be overlooked. No other course can be entertained. Your continued presence at his Majesty’s Court will be distasteful to the Queen my mistress, who will lend his Majesty whatever support may be necessary for the enforcement of your obedience.
(He eyes BOTHWELL meaningly)
BOTHWELL: (bowing) Very weill, Sir Robert. We dinna daur offend her Majesty ο England.
(The KING stares in turn at BOTHWELL and SIR ROBERT, puzzled, then exchanges a knowing look with SIR JAMES MELVILLE)
SIR ROBERT: The matter, your Majesty would appear to be settled, but if I may take the liberty to make a suggestion it is that at a more convenient hour you should summon to your Court the magistrates and clergymen who were present on the occasion of your surprise, put the agreement then projected into writing, and append the necessary signatures. That, no doubt, would allay my Lord Bothwell’s fears for his freedom and property.
THE KING: Sir Robert, it sail be dune. And I thank ye wi aa my hairt for yer intervention.
SIR ROBERT: (bowing) Your Majesty, whilst you are the ally of the Queen my mistress to serve you is my duty.
MELVILLE: If I may be permittit to speak, yer Grace, I suld like to say to Sir Robert that neir in aa my lang experience ο coorts and diplomats hae I seen sic a taiglet situation strauchtent oot wi sic economy ο effort. Sir Robert, it was maisterly.
SIR ROBERT: Such praise from one so renowned in the art of diplomacy, Sir James, affords me profound gratification. But the hour is yet early, and I would fain to my slumber. Most Gracious Sovereign, I take my leave.
(He kisses the KING’s hand)
THE KING: I hope ye sleep weill, Sir Robert, I could dae wi my bed mysell.
SIR ROBERT: (bowing towards LENNOX) My Lords. (Bowing to SIR JAMES) Sir James. (Turning to bow to the company in general when he reaches the door) Farewell.
THE KING: Atholl, tak the lantern and show Sir Robert oot.
(ATHOLL lifts the lantern from the table and opens the door)
SIR ROBERT: (bowing) My Lord, I thank you.
(ATHOLL bows in reply and follows SIR ROBERT out. The Lords stand silent, regarding BOTHWELL curiously)
THE KING: Francie, ye may tak yer leave.
BOTHWELL: (who has been staring sullenly at the door since the moment of SIR ROBERT’s departure) By God, the lot ο ye, ye’ll hear mair ο this!
(He marches out)
THE KING: (almost gleefully) Oho, did ye hear him? Did ye see his face? Did ye watch him wi Sir Robert? There was something atween thae twa! There was, I tell ye! The blaggard’s in English pey! Whan eir Sir Robert gied him a glower he was as meek as a mouss! I see it aa! I see it aa nou! My Lords, ye hae been gulled! Yer haill plot against me was an English trap! They hae gotten juist what they wantit, the Papists banisht frae the Coort and the Kirk brocht in at the back door!
LENNOX: The English had naething to dae wi’t!
THE KING: Man, Lodovick, can ye see nae faurer nor the peynt ο yer neb! What gart Both well lie sae low when Sir Robert put him in his place! Was it like him? Dae ye think for a meenit that gin he hadna dependit on Sir Robert’s pooch he wad hae stude there helpless? Did ye no hear what he said? ‘We dinna daur offend her Majesty ο England.’ What wey that? Ye ken the blaggard wad daur gey near onything! Has he no daured baith God and the Deil wi his treason and witchcraft? There’s but ae thing he wadna daur, I tell ye, and that’s to be in want ο siller!
MELVILLE: Yer Grace, there’s mebbe something in what ye say, but ye suldna hae threatent Sir Robert wi a Spanish alliance!
THE KING: What wey no? That’s what gart him come doun aff his midden tap and stert to the business in haund! Sir Jamie, ye may think he was clever, but he was dancin to my tune aa the time! I telt ye he wadna daur tak the blaggard’s side! That was the wey I sent ye for him!
MELVILLE: I thocht it was for something else, yer Grace.
THE KING: (momentarily crestfallen) God, I forgot. (Rallying quickly) But that can keep. I won the peynt at issue. I did, I tell ye. (Turning quickly to the Lords) My Lords, are ye pleased wi yersells? It maun gie ye great satisfaction to ken that whan ye thocht ye were savin yer King frae the consequences ο his ain folly ye were daein the English will!
OCHILTREE: English or no, yer Grace, it was oor ain will tae!
THE KING: Sae ye think ye hae won what ye want? Ye think that ance I’m redd ο Bothwell I’ll juist dae what Sir Robert orders? We’ll see, My Lords. We’ll see. Yer agreement’ll hae to be ratified by a Convention ο the Three Estates. Dae ye think it michtna be cancelled?
MELVILLE: (about to start a homily) Yer Grace,
THE KING: (continuing rapidly) What wey no? It’ll be cancelled as faur as Bothwell’s concerned, or I’m dune wi the lot ο ye! I hae ye sortit tae, I tell ye! There isna ane ο ye that wants Bothwell to bide, and whan he gangs I hae ye back whaur ye startit!
OCHILTREE: Yer Grace, if I hae to sign the agreement the morn I’ll tak my leave. I hae my conscience to think o.
(He bows stiffly and walks to the door)
THE KING: Come back! (ochiltree turns) Sae ye’re gaun to Bothwell?
OCHILTREE: That will depend, yer Grace, on hou ye keep yer word.
(He bows again. The KING speaks as he leaves)
THE KING: Awa ye upstert! (Whimsically) But there’s something likeable aboot Ochiltree tae, mind ye.
MELVILLE: Yer Grace, he’s neir been kent to brek a promise, yet he’s but a Lord, and ye’re a King. And was it no the renowned Isocrates himsell wha said, ‘Princes suld observe their promises, mair nor ither men their solemn aiths’?
THE KING: Ye auld humbug, that was in a letter I ance gat frae the English Queen!
MELVILLE: It was apt, yer Grace, sae I thocht I wad quote it.
THE KING: Apt, say ye! It was impiddent! I tell ye, Sir Jamie, ye’re ower fond ο moralisin at my expense! Ten meenits ο ye’s juist aboot as bad as hauf an hour wi ane ο the Preachers.
MELVILLE: Yer Grace, I regret my offence, but there’s anither remark ο Isocrates’ to the effect,
THE KING: Ay ay, Sir Jamie. ‘Dinna repute them freinds who praise what eir we dar, but raither thae wha modestly rebuke oor fauts.’ Ye’re aye at that ane. Awa to yer bed wi ye! Ye’re ower auld to be staunin aboot wi haurdly ony claes on. And whan I think o’t, I’ll mak ready mysell.
(He starts to take off his boots)
MELVILLE: (bowing) Guid nicht, yer Grace.
THE KING: Ye mean guid mornin. It’ll sune be fower o’clock.
MELVILLE: Yer Grace, ye aye hae the last word. (Bowing again) Guid mornin.
(He leaves. The KING starts to take off his clothes and makes towards his dressing-closet. MORTON steps forward)
MORTON: Weill, yer Grace, I’ll tak my leave tae.
THE KING: (turning) Na, Morton, haud on. I want a word wi ye. (Retreating as he speaks into the closet) Lodovick, there’s something else I had forgotten. Ye micht fin Spynie and tell him to see that his gaird daesna ill-use Lesley or Ogilvy or the three Erskines. Tell him they maun hae their freedom.
LENNOX: Very weill, yer Grace. (He stands quickly aside, to be out of the KING’s view, and motions to MORTON. MORTON joins him) Morton, he’ll be speirin at ye. Watch what ye say.
(MORTON nods. LENNOX leaves)
THE KING: (from the closet) Ye micht pou doun the claes, Morton, and draw the curtains.
(MORTON arranges the KING’s bed, drawing the hangings around it except on the side near the fire. The KING enters in his nightshirt)
THE KING: (secretively) Did Lodovick steik the door?
MORTON: (looking) Na.
THE KING: Dae it nou then. (MORTON closes the door and returns to the KING, who has seated himsell in the chair by the bed) My Lord, I’m sair bothert aboot yer dochter. Ye see, the lass took my fancy. She was sae fresh and winsome and sae keen to learn, and weill, ye ken hou I like to haver awa aboot the ancient mythologies and the auld pagan gods and siclike, and ye ken hou little interest yersell and the ithers hae in maitters like that, save for Sir Jamie, and he aye likes to dae the talkin himsell.
MORTON: I ken, yer Grace.
THE KING: Weill, her Grace has been steerin up bother. She has a gey jealous disposeetion, ye see, and she’s inclined to let her imagination rin awa wi her. I dout, my Lord, it’ll be better for yer dochter’s sake if ye tak yer awa, though, mind ye, my Lord, I’ll aye tak an interest in her. (Eagerly) I’ll see her weill endowed. There’ll be some grun gaun whan this steer’s bye, for that deil Atholl needs his wings clippit, and weill, a nod’s as guid as a wink to a blin horse. My Lord, ye’ll hae it dune? I’ll sairly miss her, but she wad hae nae pleisure here.
MORTON: (bowing) Very weill, yer Grace, it sail be dune. Sail I shut ye in and blaw oot the caunles?
THE KING: (slipping into bed) Ye micht, my Lord.
(MORTON closes the hangings and blows out the candles)
MORTON: Are ye aa richt, then?
THE KING: Cauld a wee, but I’ll sune warm up. Guid mornin, my Lord.
MORTON: Guid mornin, yer Grace.
(He goes out and shuts the door. The chamber is still lit dimly by a faint glow from the fire. Pause. The KING suddenly draws aside the hangings, emerges from the bed-clothes and sits on the edge of the bed. He rises and walks to the door of the QUEENS chamber. He opens it. He listens for a moment. He pokes in his head)
THE KING: (calling urgently) Annie!
(He passes through and closes the door)