do not look out for themselves and combine, it is easy to see how it will end.”[50] So the irate Queen sent for the leaders of both Houses to have it out with them. First came the Duke of Norfolk, her kinsman and most distinguished subject, himself almost a sovereign in his own county, and received the full torrent of her vituperation. He was a traitor, a conspirator, and much else, and the poor man, overwhelmed, stammered out that he never thought to ask her pardon for having offended her thus. Next came the turn of Leicester, Pembroke, Northampton, and Howard, who remonstrated with her upon her treatment of Norfolk. She told Pembroke he talked like a swaggering soldier; said that Northampton was a nice fellow to prate about marriage-- he had better look after his own matrimonial difficulties than mince words with her. Then softening somewhat she turned to Leicester and said that, even if all the world had abandoned her, she did not think he would have done so. He said something about his willingness to die at her feet, to which she replied that that was not the purpose. When the interview was at an end, the lords met in conclave and sent Sussex to beg Guzman again to exert his influence in favour of the Archduke. The next day the ambassador saw the Queen for the purpose, when she again broke out in denunciation of her councillors for putting this pressure upon her, and was particularly bitter about Leicester. “What did Guzman think,” she asked, “of such ingratitude after she had shown him so much kindness and favour that even her honour had suffered for his sake. She was glad, however, of so good an opportunity of sending him away, and the Archduke might now be quite free from suspicion.” Her anger of course was mostly directed against the attempt to force her hand in the matter of the succession; and, by the advice of Guzman, she saw the leaders separately in a calmer mood and put them off with vague assurances that she would marry shortly, and would summon a Parliament if anything prevented her from doing so. Once only she lost her temper again in her long speech to the joint committee, and that was when she addressed the Bishops of London and Durham, whom she turned upon and rent for their inconsistency. By dint of alternate bullying and cajolery she reduced both Houses of Parliament to a condition of pliability, and having got her supplies voted, dissolved Parliament early in January, 1567, and was again free to do as she liked without interference. Her indignation against Leicester was short-lived. Only a month after she had rejoiced in sending him away, she told Guzman that she thought he had acted for the best and was deceived by the others. “She was quite certain,” she said, “that he would lay down his life for hers, and that if one of them had to die he would willingly be the one.”