The Works of Aphra Behn

Agnes, far from foreseeing this Tempest, return’d to Constantia; and hearing of her Indisposition, pass’d the rest of the Day at her Chamber-door, that she might from time to time learn news of her Health: for she was not suffer’d to come in, at which Agnes was both surpriz’d and troubled. The Prince had the same Destiny, and was astonish’d at an Order which ought to have excepted him.

The next day Constantia appear’d, but so alter’d, that ’twas not difficult to imagine what she had suffer’d. Agnes was the most impatient to approach her, and the Princess could not forbear weeping, They were both silent for some time, and Constantia attributed this silence of Agnes to some Remorse which she felt: and this unhappy Maid being able to hold no longer; ‘Is it possible, Madam, (said she) that two Days should have taken from me all the Goodness you had for me? What have I done? And for what do you punish me?’ The Princess regarded her with a languishing Look, and return’d her no Answer but Sighs. Agnes, offended with this reserve, went out with very great Dissatisfaction and Anger; which contributed to her being thought criminal. The Prince came in immediately after, and found Constantia more disorder’d than usual, and conjur’d her in a most obliging manner to take care of her Health: The greatest good for me (said she) is not the Continuation of my Life; I should have more care of it if I loved you less: but — She could not proceed; and the Prince, excessively afflicted at her trouble, sigh’d sadly, without making her any answer, which redoubled her Grief. Spite then began to mix it self; and all things persuading the Princess that they made a Sacrifice of her, she would enter into no Explanation with her Husband, but suffered him to go away without saying any thing to him.

Nothing is more capable of troubling our Reason, and consuming our Health, than secret Notions of Jealousy in Solitude.

Constantia, who us’d to open her Heart freely to Agnes, now believing she had deceiv’d her, abandon’d her self so absolutely to Grief, that she was ready to sink under it; she immediately fell sick with the violence of it, and all the Court was concern’d at this Misfortune: Don Pedro was truly afflicted at it, but Agnes more than all the World beside. Constantia’s Coldness towards her, made her continually sigh; and her Distemper created merely by fancy, caus’d her to reflect on every thing that offer’d it self to her Memory: so that at last she began even to fear her self, and to reproach her self for what the Princess suffer’d.

But the Distemper began to be such, that they fear’d Constantia’s Death, and she her self began to feel the Approaches of it. This Thought did not at all disquiet her: she look’d on Death as the only relief from all her Torments; and regarded the Despair of all that approach’d her without the least concern.

The King, who lov’d her tenderly, and who knew her Virtue, was infinitely mov’d at the Extremity she was in. And Don Alvaro, who lost not the least Occasion of making him understand that it was Jealousy which was the cause of Constantia’s Distemper, did but too much incense him against Criminals, worthy of Compassion. The King was not of a Temper to conceal his Anger long: ‘You give fine Examples, (said he to the Prince) and such as will render your Memory illustrious! The Death of Constantia (of which you are only to be accus’d) is the unhappy Fruit of your guilty Passion. Fear Heaven after this: and behold your self as a Monster that does not deserve to see the Light. If the Interest you have in my Blood did not plead for you, what ought you not to fear from my just Resentment? But what must not imprudent Agnes, to whom nothing ties me, expect from my hands? If Constantia dies, she, who has the Boldness, in my Court, to cherish a foolish Flame by vain Hopes, and make us lose the most amiable Princess, whom thou art not worthy to possess, shall feel the Effects of her Indiscretion.’

Don Pedro knew very well, that Constantia was not ignorant of his Sentiments for Agnes; but he knew also with what Moderation she receiv’d it: He was very sensible of the King’s Reproaches; but as his Fault was not voluntary, and that a commanding Power, a fatal Star, had forc’d him to love in spite of himself, he appear’d afflicted and confus’d: ‘You condemn me, Sir, (answer’d he) without having well examin’d me; and if my Intentions were known to you; perhaps you would not find me so criminal: I would take the Princess for my Judge, whom you say I sacrifice, if she were in a condition to be consulted. If I am guilty of any Weakness, her Justice never reproach’d me for it; and my Tongue never inform’d Agnes of it. But suppose I have committed any Fault, why would you punish an innocent Lady, who perhaps condemns me for it as much as you? Ah, Villain! (interrupted the King) she has but too much favour’d you: You would not have lov’d thus long, had she not made you some Returns. Sir, (reply’d the Prince, pierced with Grief for the Outrage that was committed against Agnes) you offend a Virtue, than which nothing can be purer; and those Expressions which break from your Choler, are not worthy of you. Agnes never granted me any Favours; I never asked any of her; and I protest to Heaven, I never thought of any thing contrary to the Duty I owe Constantia.’

As they thus argued, one of the Princess’s Women came all in Tears to acquaint Don Pedro, that the Princess was in the last Extremities of Life: ‘Go see thy fatal Work, (said the King) and expect from a too-long patient Father the Usage thou deservest.’

The Prince ran to Constantia, whom he found dying, and Agnes in a swoon, in the Arms of some of the Ladies. What caus’d this double Calamity, was, that Agnes, who could suffer no longer the Indifferency of the Princess, had conjur’d her to tell her what was her Crime, and either to take her Life from her, or restore her to her Friendship.

Constantia, who found she must die, could no longer keep her secret Affliction from Agnes; and after some Words, which were a Preparation to the sad Explanation, she shewed her that fatal Billet, which Elvira had caus’d to be written: ‘Ah, Madam! (cry’d out the fair Agnes, after having read it) Ah, Madam! how many cruel Inquietudes had you spared me had you open’d your Heart to me with your wonted Bounty! ’Tis easy to see that this Letter is counterfeit, and that I have Enemies without Compassion. Could you believe the Prince so imprudent, to make use of any other Hand but his own, on an occasion like this? And do you believe me so simple to keep about me this Testimony of my Shame, with so little Precaution? You are neither betray’d by your Husband nor me; I attest Heaven, and those Efforts I have made to leave Coimbra. Alas, my dear Princess, how little have you known her, whom you have so much honoured? Do not believe that when I have justify’d my self, I will have any more Communication with the World: No, no; there will be no Retreat far enough from hence for me. I will take care to hide this unlucky Face, where it shall be sure to do no more harm.’

The Princess touched at this Discourse, and the Tears of Agnes, press’d her hand, which she held in hers; and fixing Looks upon her capable of moving Pity in the most insensible Souls, ‘If I have committed any Offence, my dear Agnes, (answer’d she) Death, which I expect in a moment, shall revenge it. I ought also to protest to you, That I have not ceas’d loving you, and that I believe every thing you have said, giving you back my most tender Affections.’

’Twas at this time that the Grief, which equally oppress’d ’em, put the Princess into such an Extremity, that they sent for the Prince. He came, and found himself almost without Life or Motion at this sight. And what secret Motive soever might call him to the aid of Agnes, ’twas to Constantia he ran. The Princess, who finding her last Moments drawing on, by a cold Sweat that cover’d her all over; and finding she had no more business with Life, and causing those Persons she most suspected to retire, ‘Sir, (said she to Don Pedro) if I abandon Life without regret, it is not without Trouble that I part with you. But, Prince, we must vanquish when we come to die; and I will forget my self wholly, to think of nothing but of you. I have no Reproaches to make against you, knowing that ’tis Inclination that disposes Hearts, and not Reason. Agnes is beautiful enough to inspire the most ardent Passion, and virtuous enough to deserve the first Fortunes in the World. I ask her, once more, pardon for the Injustice I have done her, and recommend her to you, as a Person most dear to me. Promise me, my dear Prince, before I expire, to give her my Place in your Throne: it cannot be better fill’d: you cannot chuse a Princess more perfect for your People, nor a better Mother for our little Children. And you my dear and faithful Agnes (pursu’d she) listen not to a Virtue too scrupulous, that may make any opposition to the Prince of Portugal: Refuse him not a Heart of which he is worthy; and give him that Friendship which you had for me, with that which is due to his Merit. Take care of my little Fernando, and the two young Princesses: let them find me in you, and speak to them sometimes of me. Adieu, live both of you happy, and receive my last Embraces.’

The afflicted Agnes, who had recover’d a little her Forces, lost them again a second time; Her Weakness was follow’d with Convulsions so vehement, that they were afraid of her Life; but Don Pedro never removed from Constantia: ‘What, Madam (said he) you will leave me then; and you think ’tis for my Good. Alas, Constantia! if my Heart has committed an Outrage against you, your Virtue has sufficiently revenged you on me in spite of you. Can you think me so barbarous?’ – As he was going on, he saw Death shut the Eyes of the most generous Princess for ever; and he was within a very little of following her.

But what Loads of Grief did this bring upon Agnes, when she found in that Interval, wherein Life and Death were struggling in her Soul, that Constantia was newly expir’d! She would then have taken away her own Life, and have let her Despair fully appear.

At the noise of the Death of the Princess, the Town and the Palace were all in Tears. Elvira, who saw then Don Pedro free to engage himself, repented of having contributed to the Death of Constantia; and thinking her self the Cause of it, promis’d in her Griefs never to pardon herself.

She had need of being guarded several days together; during which time she fail’d not incessantly to weep. And the Prince gave all those days to deepest Mourning. But when the first Emotions were past, those of his Love made him feel that he was still the same.

He was a long time without seeing Agnes; but this Absence of his served only to make her appear the more charming when he did see her.

Don Alvaro, who was afraid of the Liberty of the Prince, made new Efforts to move Agnes de Castro, who was now become insensible to every thing but Grief. Elvira, who was willing to make the best of the Design she had begun, consulted all her Womens Arts, and the Delicacy of her Wit, to revive the Flames with which the Prince once burnt for her: But his Constancy was bounded, and it was Agnes alone that was to reign over his Heart. She had taken a firm Resolution, since the Death of Constantia, to pass the rest of her Days in a solitary Retreat. In spite of the precaution she took to hide this Design, the Prince was informed of it, and did all he was able to dispose his Constancy and Fortitude to it. He thought himself stronger than he really was; but after he had well consulted his Heart, he found but too well how necessary the Presence of Agnes was to him. ‘Madam (said he to her one day, with a Heart big, and his Eyes in Tears) which Action of my Life has made you determine my Death? Tho’ I never told you how much I loved you, yet I am persuaded you are not ignorant of it. I was constrained to be silent during some Years for your sake, for Constantia’s, and my own; but ’tis not possible for me to put this force upon my Heart for ever: I must once at least tell you how it languishes. Receive then the Assurances of a Passion, full of Respect and Ardour, with an offer of my Fortune, which I wish not better, but for your advantage.’

Agnes answer’d not immediately to these words, but with abundance of Tears; which having wiped away, and beholding Don Pedro with an air which made him easily comprehend she did not agree with his Desires; ‘If I were capable of the Weakness with which you’d inspire me, you’d be obliged to punish me for it: What! (said she) Constantia is scarce bury’d, and you would have me offend her! No, my Prince (added she with more Softness) no, no, she whom you have heap’d so many Favours on, will not call down the Anger of Heaven, and the Contempt of Men upon her, by an Action so perfidious. Be not obstinate then in a Design in which I will never shew you Favour. You owe to Constantia, after her Death, a Fidelity that may justify you: and I, to repair the Ills I have made her suffer ought to shun all converse with you.’ ‘Go, Madam (reply’d the Prince, growing pale) go, and expect the News of my Death; in that part of the World, whither your Cruelty shall lead you, the News shall follow close after; you shall quickly hear of it: and I will go seek it in those Wars which reign among my Neighbours.’

These Words made the fair Agnes de Castro perceive that her Innocency was not so great as she imagined, and that her Heart interested it self in the Preservation of Don Pedro: ‘You ought, Sir, to preserve your Life (reply’d Agnes) for the sake of the little Prince and Princesses, which Constantia has left you. Would you abandon their Youth (continued she, with a tender Tone) to the Cruelty of Don Alvaro? Live! Sir, live! and let the unhappy Agnes be the only Sacrifice.’ ‘Alas, cruel Maid! (interrupted Don Pedro) Why do you command me to live, if I cannot live with you? Is it an effect of your Hatred?’ ‘No, Sir, (reply’d Agnes) I do not hate you; and I wish to God that I could be able to defend my self against the Weakness with which I find my self possess’d. Oblige me to say no more, Sir: you see my Blushes, interpret them as you please: but consider yet, that the less Aversion I find I have to you, the more culpable I am; and that I ought no more to see, or speak to you. In fine, Sir, if you oppose my Retreat, I declare to you, that Don Alvaro, as odious as he is to me, shall serve for a Defence against you; and that I will sooner consent to marry a Man I abhor, than to favour a Passion that cost Constantia her Life.’ ‘Well then, Agnes (reply’d the Prince, with Looks all languishing and dying) follow the Motions which barbarous Virtue inspires you with; take these Measures you judge necessary against an unfortunate Lover, and enjoy the Glory of having cruelly refused me.’

At these Words he went away; and troubled as Agnes was, she would not stay him: Her Courage combated with her Grief, and she thought now, more than ever, of departing.

’Twas difficult for her to go out of Coimbra; and not to defer what appear’d to her so necessary, she went immediately to the Apartment of the King, notwithstanding the Interest of Don Alvaro. The King received her with a Countenance severe, not being able to consent to what she demanded: You shall not go hence, (said he) and if you are wise, you shall enjoy here with Don Alvaro both my Friendship and my Favour. I have taken another Resolution (answer’d Agnes) and the World has no part in it. You will accept Don Pedro (reply’d the King) his Fortune is sufficient to satisfy an ambitious Maid: but you will not succeed Constantia, who lov’d you so tenderly; and Spain has Princesses enough to fill up part of the Throne which I shall leave him. Sir, (reply’d Agnes, piqu’d at this Discourse) if I had a Disposition to love, and a Design to marry, perhaps the Prince might be the only Person on whom I would fix it: And you know, if my Ancestors did not possess Crowns, yet they were worthy to wear ’em. But let it be how it will, I am resolved to depart, and to remain no longer a Slave in a Place to which I came free.

This bold Answer, which shew’d the Character of Agnes, anger’d and astonished the King. You shall go when we think fit (reply’d he) and without being a Slave at Coimbra, you shall attend our order.

Agnes saw she must stay, and was so griev’d at it, that she kept her Chamber several days, without daring to inform herself of the Prince; and this Retirement spared her the Affliction of being visited by Don Alvaro.

During this, Don Pedro fell sick, and was in so great danger, that there was a general apprehension of his Death. Agnes did not in the least doubt, but it was an effect of his Discontent: she thought at first she had Strength and Resolution enough to see him die, rather than to favour him; but had she reflected a little, she had soon been convinc’d to the contrary. She found not in her Heart that cruel Constancy she thought there so well established: She felt Pains and Inquietude, shed Tears, made Wishes; and, in fine, discover’d that she lov’d.

’Twas impossible to see the Heir of the Crown, a Prince that deserved so well, even at the point of Death, without a general Affliction. The People who loved him, pass’d whole days at the Palace-gate to hear News of him: The Court was all over-whelm’d with Grief.

Don Alvaro knew very well how to conceal a malicious Joy, under an Appearance of Sadness. Elvira, full of Tenderness, and perhaps of Remorse, suffer’d also on her side. The King, altho’ he condemned the Love of his Son, yet still had a Tenderness for him, and could not resolve to lose him. Agnes de Castro, who knew the Cause of his Distemper, expected the End of it with strange Anxieties: In fine, after a Month had pass’d away in Fears, they began to have a little hopes of his Recovery. The Prince and Don Alvaro were the only Persons that were not glad of it: But Agnes rejoic’d enough for all the rest.

Don Pedro, seeing that he must live whether he wou’d or no, thought of nothing but passing his days in melancholy and discontent: As soon as he was in a condition to walk, he sought out the most solitary Places, and gain’d so much upon his own Weakness, to go every where, where Agnes was not; but her Idea followed him always, and his Memory, faithful to represent her to him with all her Charms, render’d her always dangerous.

One day, when they had carry’d him into the Garden, he sought out a Labyrinth which was at the farthest part of it, to hide his Melancholy, during some hours; there he found the sad Agnes, whom Grief, little different from his, had brought thither; the sight of her whom he expected not, made him tremble: She saw by his pale and meagre Face the remains of his Distemper; his Eyes full of Languishment troubled her, and tho’ her Desire was so great to have fled from him, an unknown Power stopt her, and ’twas impossible for her to go.

After some Moments of Silence, which many Sighs interrupted, Don Pedro rais’d himself from the Place where his Weakness had forced him to sit; he made Agnes see, as he approach’d her, the sad Marks of his Sufferings: and not content with the Pity he saw in her Eyes, You have resolved my Death then, cruel Agnes, (said he) my desire was the same with yours; but Heaven has thought fit to reserve me for other Misfortunes, and I see you again, as unhappy, but more in love than ever.

There was no need of these Words to move Agnes to compassion, the Languishment of the Prince spoke enough; and the Heart of this fair Maid was but too much disposed to yield it self: She thought then that Constantia ought to be satisfy’d; Love, which combated for Don Pedro, triumphed over Friendship, and found that happy Moment, for which the Prince of Portugal, had so long sighed.

Do not reproach me, for that which has cost me more than you, Sir, (replied she) and do not accuse a Heart, which is neither ingrateful nor barbarous: and I must tell you, that I love you. But now I have made you that Confession, what is it farther that you require of me?Don Pedro, who expected not a Change so favourable, felt a double Satisfaction; and falling at the Feet of Agnes, he express’d more by the Silence his Passion created, than he could have done by the most eloquent Words.

After having known all his good Fortune, he then consulted with the amiable Agnes, what was to be feared from the King; they concluded that the cruel Billet, which so troubled the last days of Constantia, could come from none but Elvira and Don Alvaro. The Prince, who knew that his Father had searched already an Alliance for him, and was resolv’d on his Favourite’s marrying Agnes, conjur’d her so tenderly to prevent these Persecutions, by consenting to a secret Marriage, that, after having a long time consider’d, she at last consented. I will do what you will have me (said she) tho’ I presage nothing but fatal Events from it; all my Blood turns to Ice, when I think of this Marriage, and the Image of Constantia seems to hinder me from doing it.

The amorous Prince surmounted all her Scruples, and separated himself from Agnes, with a Satisfaction which soon redoubled his Forces; he saw her afterward with the Pleasure of a Mystery: And the Day of their Union being arrived, Don Gill, Bishop of Guarda, performed the Ceremony of the Marriage, in the Presence of several Witnesses, faithful to Don Pedro, who saw him Possessor of all the Charms of the fair Agnes.

She lived not the more peaceable for belonging to the Prince of Portugal; her Enemies, who continually persecuted her, left her not without Troubles: and the King, whom her Refusal inrag’d, laid his absolute Commands on her to marry Don Alvaro, with Threats to force her to it, if she continu’d rebellious.

The Prince took loudly her part; and this, join’d to the Refusal he made of marrying the Princess of Arragon, caus’d Suspicions of the Truth in the King his Father. He was seconded by those that were too much interested, not to unriddle this Secret. Don Alvaro and his Sister acted with so much care, gave so many Gifts, and made so many Promises, that they discover’d the secret Engagements of Don Pedro and Agnes.

The King wanted but little of breaking out into all the Rage and Fury so great a Disappointment could inspire him with, against the Princess. Don Alvaro, whose Love was changed into the most violent Hatred, appeased the first Transports of the King, by making him comprehend, that if they could break the Marriage of ’em, that would not be a sufficient Revenge; and so poison’d the Soul of the King, to consent to the Death of Agnes.

The barbarous Don Alvaro offered his Arm for this terrible Execution, and his Rage was Security for the Sacrifice.

The King, who thought the Glory of his Family disgraced by this Alliance, and his own in particular in the Procedure of his Son, gave full Power to this Murderer, to make the innocent Agnes a Victim to his Rage.

It was not easy to execute this horrid Design: Tho’ the Prince saw Agnes but in secret, yet all his Cares were still awake for her, and he was marry’d to her above a Year, before Don Alvaro could find out an opportunity so long sought for.

The Prince diverted himself but little, and very rarely went far from Coimbra; but on a Day, an unfortunate Day, and marked out by Heaven for an unheard-of and horrid Assassination, he made a Party to hunt at a fine House, which the King of Portugal had near the City.

Agnes lov’d every thing that gave the Prince satisfaction; but a secret Trouble made her apprehend some Misfortune in this unhappy Journey. Sir, (said she to him, alarm’d, without knowing the Reason why) I tremble, seeing you today as it were designed the last of my Life: Preserve your self, my dear Prince; and tho’ the Exercise you take be not very dangerous, beware of the least Hazards, and bring me back all that I trust with you. Don Pedro, who had never found her so handsome and so charming before, embraced her several times, and went out of the Palace with his Followers, with a Design not to return till the next Day.

He was no sooner gone, but the cruel Don Alvaro prepared himself for the Execution he had resolv’d on; he thought it of that importance, that it required more Hands than his own, and so chose for his Companions Don Lopez Pacheo, and Pedro Cuello, two Monsters like himself, whose Cruelty he was assur’d of by the Presents he had made ’em.

They waited the coming of the Night, and the lovely Agnes was in her first Sleep, which was the last of her Life, when these Assassins approach’d her Bed. Nothing made resistance to Don Alvaro, who could do every thing, and whom the blackest Furies introduced to Agnes; she waken’d, and opening her Curtains, saw, by the Candle burning in her Chamber, the Ponyard with which Don Alvaro was armed; he having his Face not cover’d, she easily knew him, and forgetting herself, to think of nothing but the Prince: Just Heaven (said she, lifting up her fine Eyes) if you will revenge Constantia, satisfy your self with my Blood only, and spare that of Don Pedro. The barbarous Man that heard her, gave her not time to say more; and finding he could never (by all he could do by Love) touch the Heart of the fair Agnes, he pierc’d it with his Ponyard: his Accomplices gave her several Wounds, tho’ there was no necessity of so many to put an end to an innocent Life.

What a sad Spectacle was this for those who approach’d her Bed the next day! And what dismal News was this to the unfortunate Prince of Portugal! He returned to Coimbra at the first report of this Adventure, and saw what had certainly cost him his Life, if Men could die of Grief. After having a thousand times embraced the bloody Body of Agnes, and said all that a just Despair could inspire him with, he ran like a Mad-man into the Palace, demanding the Murderers of his Wife, of things that could not hear him. In fine, he saw the King, and without observing any respect, he gave a loose to his Resentment: after having rail’d a long time, overwhelm’d with Grief, he fell into a Swoon, which continu’d all that day. They carry’d him into his Apartment: and the King, believing that his Misfortune would prove his Cure, repented not of what he had permitted.

Don Alvaro, and the two other Assassins, quitted Coimbra. This Absence of theirs made ’em appear guilty of the Crime; for which the afflicted Prince vow’d a speedy Vengeance to the Ghost of his lovely Agnes, resolving to pursue them to the uttermost part of the Universe; He got a considerable number of Men together, sufficient to have made resistance, even to the King of Portugal himself, if he should yet take the part of the Murderers: with these he ravaged the whole Country, as far as the Duero Waters, and carry’d on a War, even till the Death of the King, continually mixing Tears with Blood, which he gave to the revenge of his dearest Agnes.

Such was the deplorable End of the unfortunate Love of Don Pedro of Portugal, and of the fair Agnes de Castro, whose Remembrance he faithfully preserv’d in his Heart, even upon the Throne, to which he mounted by the Right of his Birth, after the Death of the King.

THE HISTORY OF THE NUN;

OR, THE FAIR VOW-BREAKER

INTRODUCTION