de, beside himself with rage, cried out
vehemently, "Are we to tolerate such language from this priest?"
Gulemburg, too, turning upon the offender, observed, "Your observation
would be much more applicable to your own case. If you were to die, 't
would be easy to find five hundred of your merit, to replace you in the
see of Cambray." The conversation was, to say the least, becoming
personal. The Bishop, desirous of terminating this keen encounter of
wits, lifted a goblet full of wine and challenged Brederode to drink.
That gentleman declined the invitation. After the cloth had been removed,
the cup circulated more freely than ever. The revelry became fast and
furious. One of the younger gentlemen who was seated near the Bishop
snatched the bonnet of that dignitary from his head and placed it upon
his own. He then drained a bumper to his health, and passed the goblet
and the cap to his next neighbor. Both circulated till they reached the
Viscount of Ghent, who arose from his seat and respectfully restored the
cap to its owner. Brederode then took a large "cup of silver and gold,"
filled it to the brim, and drained it to the confusion of Cardinal
Granvelle; stigmatizing that departed minister, as he finished, by an
epithet of more vigor than decency. He then called upon all the company
to pledge him to the same toast, and denounced as cardinalists all those
who should refuse. The Archbishop, not having digested the affronts which
had been put upon him already, imprudently ventured himself once more
into the confusion, and tried to appeal to the reason of the company. He
might as well have addressed the crew of Comus. He gained nothing but
additional insult. Brederode advanced upon him with threatening gestures.
Egmont implored the prelate to retire, or at least not to take notice of
a nobleman so obviously beyond the control of his reason. The Bishop,
however, insisted--mingling reproof, menace; and somewhat imperious
demands--that the indecent Saturnalia should cease. It would have been
wiser for him to retire. Count Hoogstraaten, a young man and small of
stature, seized the gilt laver, in which the company had dipped their
fingers before seating themselves at table: "Be quiet, be quiet, little
man," said Egmont, soothingly, doing his best to restrain the tumult.
"Little man, indeed," responded the Count, wrathfully; "I would have you
to know that never did little man spring from my race." With those words
he hurled the ba