Beaton: He may come.
Mary: Craft is against me, my friend. I shall have no leisure to find the great one. Lethington works, and my brother Moray works. And Elizabeth waits. Elizabeth of England—they will do as she wishes. She knows it, and I know. I am too beautiful for her. She has poets who call her beautiful, too. If Mary were their queen, what a song it would be! She knows it. It's a little secret satisfaction, that.
Beaton: You match them all, Madam, in wits.
Mary: I shall know that till the end. But the end will be to their hand. Fools for lovers, and fools to destroy me. Proudly I shall know that always, being above them in love and wisdom. But love will cheat me, and my wisdom will spare me nothing. That is how it is for me. Riccio is not near?
Beaton: (opening the door): No, Madam.
Mary: Then listen. This is made for myself, but you shall hear it.
