To Count Horn he declared himself unable to connive longer at the sins daily committed against the country and his own conscience.  He assured him that the government had been accustoming the country to panniers, in order that it might now accept patiently the saddle and bridle.  For himself, he said, his back was not strong enough for the weight already imposed upon it, and he preferred to endure any calamity which might happen to him in exile, rather than be compelled by those whom they had all condemned to acquiesce in the object so long and steadily pursued.

He reminded Egmont, who had been urging him by letter to remain, that his resolution had been deliberately taken, and long since communicated to his friends.  He could not, in conscience, take the oath required; nor would he, now that all eyes were turned upon him, remain in the land, the only recusant.  He preferred to encounter all that could happen, rather than attempt to please others by the sacrifice of liberty, of his fatherland, of his own conscience.  “I hope, therefore,” said he to Egmont in conclusion, “that you, after weighing my reasons, will not disapprove my departure.  The rest I leave to God, who will dispose of all as may most conduce to the glory of his name.  For yourself, I pray you to believe that you have no more sincere friend than I am.  My love for you has struck such deep root into my heart, that it can be lessened by no distance of time or place, and I pray you in return to maintain the same feelings towards me which you have always cherished.”

The Prince had left Antwerp upon the 11th April, and had written these letters from Breda, upon the 13th of the same month.  Upon the 22d, he took his departure for Dillenburg, the ancestral seat of his family in Germany, by the way of Grave and Cleves.

It was not to be supposed that this parting message would influence Egmont’s decision with regard to his own movements, when his determination had not been shaken at his memorable interview with the Prince.  The Count’s fate was sealed.  Had he not been praised by Noircarmes; had he not earned the hypocritical commendations of Duchess Margaret; nay more, had he not just received a most affectionate letter of, thanks and approbation from the King of Spain himself?  This letter, one of the most striking monuments of Philip’s cold-blooded perfidy, was dated the 26th of March.  “I am pleased, my cousin,” wrote the monarch to Egmont, “that you have taken the new oath, not that I considered it at all necessary so far as regards yourself, but for the example which you have thus given to others, and which I hope they will all follow.  I have received not less pleasure in hearing of the excellent manner in which you are doing your duty, the assistance you are rendering, and the offers which you are making to my sister, for which I thank you, and request you to continue in the same course.”