‘So I believe.’
‘There was a French pink in the basin. Did your lordship see her?’
‘Ay, I saw her.’
‘Ha! And they say there shall come a new ambassador from the Pope.’
‘Is that so?’
‘By way of France, he must travel.’
‘Ay?’
‘Bothwell will be in France the now, I doubt.’
‘I’m thinking so, my lord, indeed,’ says the Earl of Moray.
There was more, but not much more. A man tires of picking at granite with a needle.