MARGARET. James… yes, that is what you look like. That is what everyone has been looking at. But you’ve hardly been short of admirers, have you?

JAMES. They’re all idiots! To dote on that.

He waves his hand angrily at the covered mirror.

Or worse… worse, they’ve known exactly what they’re up to, making a fool of me with their smooth skin and shining little faces…

MARGARET. James. Everyone thinks you’re stunning. You know that!

JAMES. No, I don’t know that! I don’t know that, I think you’ve all been lying to me. I’ve long suspected I’m surrounded by liars and now I know!

Jesus. If you don’t understand that…

Who am I supposed to talk to!?

A beat.

MARGARET. James? What happened to Cochrane?

JAMES. The imbecile went drinking in the wrong bar.

Maybe there wasn’t a safe bar in the whole of Scotland.

Maybe I shouldn’t have made him Earl of Lennox. I don’t think it was a popular appointment. Do you? And it looks like my critics are getting very confident. Very impudent.

MARGARET. You’re not safe.

JAMES. No.

Here’s something you never thought you’d hear me say, Sandy was right.

He was holding them back. And now he’s gone.

A beat.

MARGARET. This is what you have to do –

JAMES. Yes?

MARGARET. Take back some of the lands and titles you’ve given to your friends. Give them to men who might support you.

JAMES. No.

MARGARET. Bring new men and women into your court, send your favourites away…

JAMES. Don’t use that word! I hate that word.

Everyone I know interests me. Everyone provides different stimulation, different shades and tones to the day.

Why would I favour one human soul over another? What kind of creature would I be if I did that? The baker is my favourite when I need fresh bread. My musicians are my favourites when I want music. You’re my favourite when I need advice and you screw your face up in that earnest little scowl and start…

MARGARET (cutting him off). They’re a provocation, James! If you keep people like… Daisy close by you, they think you’re taunting them.

JAMES. I am. How dare they tell me I should value their wealth, their mouldy family names, their ugly, bloody, history and fat estates over natural beauty and raw talent.

He would have been one of the greatest architects in Europe. I miss him. It really hurts. It‘s horrible, Margaret.

A beat.

MARGARET. If they’ve killed Cochrane they’ve come very close. They could destroy you!

JAMES (indicating mirror). Who cares, I’m too ugly to live. Look.

A beat.

MARGARET. Most of us are much uglier.

JAMES. The young aren’t.

MARGARET. Well…

Time will fix that one, won’t it?