To this Jane assented. But it was evident from her manner she had but slight hopes. At an early hour the lord mayor, the aldermen, and all the civic authorities who had been summoned, arrived. Cranmer and Ridley came soon after. The Council were then summoned, and by ten o’clock all were assembled, excepting the Earls of Pembroke and Arundel, Simon Renard, and De Noailles. As soon as Jane was seated beneath the state canopy, she ordered a pursuivant to summon them. Proclamation being made, a stir was heard at the lower end of the council-chamber, and the absentees presented themselves. All four advanced boldly towards the throne, and took their place among the Council. Jane then arose, and with great dignity and self-possession thus-addressed the assemblage:— “My lords,” she said, “I have summoned you it may be for the last time, to deliberate on the course to be pursued to check the formidable tumults and rebellions that have been moved against me and my crown. Of that crown I cannot doubt I have lawful possession, since it was tendered me by your lordships, who have all sworn allegiance to me. Fully confiding, therefore, in your steadiness to my service, which neither with honour, safety, nor duty, you can now forsake, I look to you for support in this emergency.” Here a murmur arose among the Council. “What!” exclaimed Jane: “do you desert me at the hour of need? Do you refuse me your counsel and assistance?” “We do,” replied several voices. “Traitors!” exclaimed Lord Guilford Dudley: “you have passed your own sentence.” “Not so, my lord,” replied Simon Renard. “It is you who have condemned yourself. Lady Jane Dudley,” he continued in a loud voice, “you who have wrongfully usurped the title and station of queen,—in your presence I proclaim Mary, sister to the late king Edward the Sixth, and daughter of Henry the Eighth of famous memory, Queen of England and Ireland, and very owner of the crown, government, and title of England and Ireland, and all things thereunto belonging.” “God save Queen Mary!” cried the Council. A few dissentient voices were raised. But the Earl of Pembroke drew his sword, and cried in a loud voice, “As heaven shall help me, I will strike that man dead who refuses to shout for Queen Mary.” And he threw his cap in the air. “Hear me,” continued Renard, “and learn that resistance is in vain. I hereby proclaim a free pardon, in Queen Mary’s name, to all who shall freely acknowledge her,—excepting always the family of the Duke of Northumberland, who is a traitor, and upon whose head a price is set. I require your Grace,” he added to Suffolk, “to deliver up the keys of the Tower.” “They are here,” replied the Duke, pointing to Magog who bore them. “Do you yield, my lord?” cried Lord Guilford, passionately. “It is useless to contend further,” replied Suffolk. “All is lost.”