Having ascended the scaffold, he walked across it twice or thrice.  He was dressed in a tabard or robe of red damask, over which was thrown a short black mantle, embroidered in gold.  He had a black silk hat, with black and white plumes, on his head, and held a handkerchief in his hand.  As he strode to and fro, he expressed a bitter regret that he had not been permitted to die, sword in hand, fighting for his country and his king.  Sanguine to the last, he passionately asked Romero, whether the sentence was really irrevocable, whether a pardon was not even then to be granted.  The marshal shrugged his shoulders, murmuring a negative reply.  Upon this, Egmont gnashed his teeth together, rather in rage than despair.  Shortly afterward commanding himself again, he threw aside his robe and mantle, and took the badge of the Golden Fleece from his neck.  Kneeling, then, upon one of the cushions, he said the Lord’s Prayer aloud, and requested the Bishop, who knelt at his side, to repeat it thrice.  After this, the prelate gave him the silver crucifix to kiss, and then pronounced his blessing upon him.  This done, the Count rose again to his feet, laid aside his hat and handkerchief, knelt again upon the cushion, drew a little cap over his eyes, and, folding his hands together, cried with a loud voice, “Lord, into Thy hands I commit my spirit.”  The executioner then suddenly appeared, and severed his head from his shoulders at a single blow.

A moment of shuddering silence succeeded the stroke.  The whole vast assembly seemed to have felt it in their own hearts.  Tears fell from the eyes even of the Spanish soldiery, for they knew and honored Egmont as a valiant general.  The French embassador, Mondoucet, looking upon the scene from a secret place, whispered that he had now seen the head fall before which France had twice trembled.  Tears were even seen upon the iron cheek of Alva, as, from a window in a house directly opposite the scaffold, he looked out upon the scene.

A dark cloth was now quickly thrown over the body and the blood, and, within a few minutes, the Admiral was seen advancing through the crowd.  His bald head was uncovered, his hands were unbound.  He calmly saluted such of his acquaintances as he chanced to recognize upon his path.  Under a black cloak, which he threw off when he had ascended the scaffold, he wore a plain, dark doublet, and he did not, like Egmont, wear the insignia of the Fleece.  Casting his eyes upon the corpse, which lay covered with the dark cloth, he asked if it were the body of Egmont.  Being answered in the affirmative, he muttered a few words in Spanish, which were not distinctly audible.  His attention was next caught by the sight of his own coat of arms reversed, and he expressed anger at this indignity to his escutcheon, protesting that he had not deserved the insult.  He then spoke a few words to the crowd below, wishing them happiness, and begging them to pray for his soul.  He did not kiss the crucifix, but he knelt upon the scaffold to pray, and was assisted in his devotions by the Bishop of Ypres.  When they were concluded, he rose again to his feet.  Then drawing a Milan cap completely over his face, and uttering, in Latin, the same invocation which Egmont had used, he submitted his neck to the stroke.