face with Arundel, who, after delivering the council's letter to the Queen, had hastened to Cambridge to secure him.
Northumberland, who, while innocent of crime, had faced death on land and sea like a soldier and a gentleman, flung himself at the Earl's feet. 'Be good to me, for the love of God/ he cried; 'consider I have done nothing but by the consent of you and the council.' He knew what kind of consent he had extorted from the council. 'My Lord,' said Arundel, 'I am sent hither by the Queen's Majesty; and in her name I do arrest you.'—'I obey, my Lord,' the Duke replied; 'yet show me mercy, knowing the case as it is.'—'My Lord,' was the cold answer, 'you should have sought for mercy sooner; I must do according to my commandment.'[1]
At the same moment Sandys was paying the penalty for his sermon. The University, in haste to purge itself of its heretical elements, met soon after sunrise to depose their vice-chancellor. Dr Sandys, who had gone for an early stroll among the meadows to meditate on his position, hearing the congregation-bell ringing, resolved, like a brave man, to front his fortune; he walked to the Senate-house, entered, and took his seat. 'A rabble of Papists' instantly surrounded him. He tried to speak, but the masters of arts shouted 'Traitor;' rough hands shook or dragged him from his chair: and the impatient theologian, in sudden heat, drew his dagger, and 'would have done a mischief with it,' had not some of his friends disarmed him.[2] He, too, was handed
