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Andrew Boyd bawdy Beaton goes Beaton returns beauty better brain brighter wit cabinet Copenhagen cousin cunning brought danger Darnley comes Darnley knew David Riccio Dismiss Riccio door Edinburgh Elizabeth And Lethington England fear fellow find This Mary's fool France give hear heart honour hope John Hunter King of Scotland knew Nor Bothwell lamentable Lethington in hell lightly given listen Look Lord Bothwell lord the King love Finlay lover's mind Madam Majesty Margaret Mary Beaton Mary Stuart Mary takes Mary the lover Mary's best magnificence Mary's love-story Master Italian Thrift mean moon Moray joins Elizabeth moves perhaps Pierre Ronsard poets portrait pride Queen wearing Queen's chamber Queen's luck remember rhyme Riccio goes Riccio nor Darnley Riccio rises Riccio singing shadow Sir Thomas Randolph speak stay sure tell When Moray There's thing tick to-night told Voice wanton watch What's the Queen window woman word
Page 52 - As for me, I will sing of thy power, and will praise thy mercy betimes in the morning : for thou hast been my defence and refuge in the day of my trouble. 17 Unto thee, O my strength, will I sing : for thou, O God, art my refuge, and my merciful God.
Page 10 - Edinburgh story — the confusion of it, growing and growing through the years? History never so entangled itself. All the witnesses lied, and nearly all who have considered it have been absorbed in confirming this word, refuting that. And at the centre of it, obscured by our argument, is the one glowing reality, a passionate woman. Beside that, the rest is nothing, but we forget.
Page 16 - Not Riccio nor Darnley knew, Nor Bothwell, how to find This Mary's best magnificence Of the great lover's mind.
Page 6 - ... Hunter: That it was untouched by this. Boyd: Do you believe it ? Hunter: I don't know. How can it be ? Boyd: And some are great lovers. Do you want her love ? Hunter: That's absurd, Andrew. Boyd: What is the most precious thing in the world to you ? In your emotions ? Hunter: That is. You know. Boyd: Or your sense of mastery in owning her ? Hunter: You can't refine things like that. Boyd: But you must, or fall into the mere foolishness of life. You must answer yourself. Do you want to enjoy her...
Page 52 - Consume them in thy wrath, consume them, that they may perish : and know that it is God that ruleth in Jacob, and unto the ends of the world. 14 And in the evening they will return : grin like a dog, and will go about the city.
Page 34 - What do they say — a light lover, unsure always. And who is there to make me sure? What man is there with authority? Where is he who shall measure me? Listen, my husband. There are tides in me as fierce as any that have troubled women. And they are restless, always, always. Do you think I desire that? Do you think that I have no other longings — to govern with a clear brain, to learn my people, to prove myself against these foreign jealousies, to see strong children about me, to play with an...
Page 40 - ... lies unused, it rusts. If I could find peace, if there were but a man to match me, my power should work. Elizabeth should see an example in Scotland. I would defend queenship, and I am brought to defend a poor Italian clerk. Beaton: Why consider him, or any one of them? Mary: It's a madness, is n't it?
Page 57 - You are in my arms — you are no queen, you are my subject. If you stay they will destroy your throne — if you stay you will destroy yourself. You have fires. Can you quench them? Mary, my beloved, I am stronger than you. Come, I bid it. (MARY stays a moment, bound in his arms. Then she slowly releases herself) Mary: It is magnificent. But I told you. I am wiser than my blood.
Page 17 - Who is it? (MARY STUART stands on the terrace at the window. She is the Queen of the portrait) Mary: Boy, I can tell you everything. • ••••••• (BoYD and HUNTER and the portrait and the moonlit terrace pass into nothingness, and we see MARY STUART'S room in Holyrood on the evening of March the ninth, 1566.
Page 57 - BOTHWELL. Woman, why do you waste yourself among crowns and peddlers ? Who is Elizabeth — who Darnley ? What is Scotland, a black country, barren, that it should consume this beauty ? You were born to love, to mate strongly, to challenge passion — this passion, I tell you, this. They come to you, and plead as peevish boys, or watch round corners — winds that cannot stir one tress of that hair. You are not aware of them, you are unmoved. But I am not as these — do you think I will wait and...