In Act III, Scene 2, Jane Gordon has consented to release Bothwell from his marriage with her, so that he may win the Queen:
Bothwell. It is a desperate scheme!
How cold, and yet how kindly, are your eyes.
I never hate you—;her I often hate.
Lady Bothwell. Poor lady, for you love her! I have been
More fortunate in winning your respect.
You are a gallant fellow; but too wild
For the great fireside virtues....
Bothwell tries to make his wife divulge what are Mary’s feelings toward him:
Lady Bothwell. For her sake
I am unknitting, James, our marriage-bond;
I shall not then report her. At your feet
The gown of Spanish fur I recognize
As her own mother’s wear. She loved her mother;
She would not part with that except to one
She trusted with a child’s simplicity.
Prove worthy of her faith. [Exit.
. . . . .
Bothwell. Fie, this woman
Leaves me with branded cheeks. To bid her
pack; To break up house, to get myself divorced
From one so noble and so tolerant
Just for a giddy hope!—;Ho, Paris,
put This trumpery away. [Kicking the Spanish fur.]
I must to-morrow
Betimes conduct the queen
to Callander.
Act III, Scene 2
Contrast the way in which Lethington—;scholar, wit, and statesman—;reacts to Mary’s character. There is a scene with him when the Queen is in the deepest gulf, her courage broken by treachery, her love for Bothwell humiliated, her life so netted in intrigue that she is helpless and despairing. With almost every soul about her counsels proved false, she still believes in Lethington, and he is in truth her friend. But he, with his itch for policy, had given his support long ago to the Bothwell conspiracy against Darnley, believing in good faith that it might help the Queen. Now the Bothwell marriage has proved disastrous: the people are in revolt, and Mary is accused of hideous crimes that she cannot refute. She turns for advice to the one man whose wisdom and whose honour she believes that she can trust; and Bothwell, enraged and brutally jealous, breaks upon their conference:
Bothwell. ... Since you thwart me
And magnify this pard—;I will unfold
The smooth and cowardly creature you esteem.
This man heard Morton promise me your hand,
And to and fro he journeyed prospering
My heady plans; he is the sorcerer
To lure your mates to death, one after one;
He sits, and sees them drop away from you,
But yet he meddles not. Now chat together;
He will advise you how you may entoil
A second victim. I will leave you now. [Exit.
Queen. To think that you were with me at Dunbar!