The cup went round, and everyone uttered
the same vow as he set it to his lips. Then one after the other they
received the beggar's purse, and each hung it on a nail which he had
appropriated to himself. The shouts and uproar attending this buffoonery
attracted the Prince of Orange and Counts Egmont and Horn, who, by
chance, were passing the spot at the very moment, and on entering the
house were boisterously pressed by Brederode, as host, to remain and
drink a glass with them.[3]
[3] "But," Egmont asserted in his written defence, "we drank only
one single small glass, and thereupon they cried, 'Long live the
King and the Gueux!' This was the first time that I heard that
appellation, and it certainly did not please me. But the times
were so bad that one was often compelled to share in much that
was against one's inclination, and I knew not but I was doing an
innocent thing."
The entrance of three such influential personages renewed the mirth of
the guests, and their festivities soon passed the bounds of moderation.
Many were intoxicated; guests and attendants mingled together without
distinction, the serious and the ludicrous; drunken fancies and affairs
of state were blended one with another in a burlesque medley; and the
discussions on the general distress of the country ended in the wild
uproar of a bacchanalian revel.
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