MARY STUART
A small library in Andrew Boyd's house in Edinburgh. In the far wall is a fireplace, and to the right of it a high folding window. Above the fireplace is a large oil portrait of Mary Stuart.
It is late on a summer evening, and the window is open, giving on to a garden terrace, under which the town lies in the moonlight.
Andrew Boyd, who is seventy years old, sits at a small table with a young man, John Hunter. Boyd, wearing a black velvet coat and skull-cap looks as Charles the First might have done had he achieved a fuller age. Hunter is in evening clothes. The date is 1900 or later.
Hunter: That's all. It's terrible.
Boyd: What do you propose to do?
Hunter: I don't know. What can I do?
Boyd: Did you merely want to tell me—or do you want my advice?
Hunter: Andrew, the few grains of wisdom I have I've picked up from you. At least, I think so. Help me—if there is any help.
