|Product Name||The Tragedy Of Jane Shore|
|Category||Book / Magazine / Publication|
|Amazon.com||Buy on Amazon ~ 0803203810|
|Price Used||15.70 US Dollars (curriencies)|
|Long Description||From Content: "Glos. Thus far success attends upon our councils, And each event has answer'd to my wish; The queen and all her upstart race are quell'd; Dorset is banish'd, and her brother Rivers, Ere this, lies shorter by the head at Pomfret. The nobles have, with joint concurrence, nam'd me Protector of the realm: my brother's children, Young Edward and the little York, are lodg'd Here, safe within the Tower. How say you, sirs, Does not this business wear a lucky face? The sceptre and the golden wreath of royalty Seem hung within my reach. Sir R. Then take 'em to you, And wear them long and worthily: you are The last remaining male of princely York, (For Edward's boys, the state esteems not of 'em,) And therefore on your sov'reignty and rule The commonweal does her dependence make, And leans upon your highness' able hand. Cates. And yet to-morrow does the council meet To fix a day for Edward's coronation. Who can expound this riddle? Glos. That can I. Those lords are each one my approv'd good friends, Of special trust and nearness to my bosom; And, howsoever busy they may seem, And diligent to bustle in the state, Their zeal goes on no further than we lead, And at our bidding stays." Cates. Yet there is one, And he amongst the foremost in his power, Of whom I wish your highness were assur'd. For me, perhaps it is my nature's fault, I own I doubt of his inclining much. Glos. I guess the man at whom your words would point: Hastings— Cates. The same. Glos. He bears me great good will. Cates. 'Tis true, to you, as to the lord protector, And Gloster's duke, he bows with lowly service: But were he bid to cry, God save king Richard, Then tell me in what terms he would reply. Believe me, I have prov'd the man, and found him: I know he bears a most religious reverence To his dead master Edward's royal memory, And whither that may lead him, is most plain. Yet more—One of that stubborn sort he is, Who, if they once grow fond of an opinion, They call it honour|
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