In all this time you may believe we were in no little Affliction for Cæsar and his Wife; some were of Opinion he was escaped, never to return; others thought some Accident had happened to him: But however, we fail’d not to send out a hundred People several Ways, to search for him. A Party of about forty went that Way he took, among whom was Tuscan, who was perfectly reconciled to Byam: They had not gone very far into the Wood, but they smelt an unusual Smell, as of a dead Body; for Stinks must be very noisom, that can be distinguish’d among such a Quantity of natural Sweets, as every Inch of that Land produces: so that they concluded they should find him dead, or some body that was so; they pass’d on towards it, as loathsom as it was, and made such rustling among the Leaves that lie thick on the Ground, by continual falling, that Cæsar heard he was approach’d; and though he had, during the Space of these eight Days, endeavour’d to rise, but found he wanted Strength, yet looking up, and seeing his Pursuers, he rose, and reel’d to a neighbouring Tree, against which he fix’d his Back; and being within a dozen Yards of those that advanc’d and saw him, he call’d out to them, and bid them approach no nearer, if they would be safe. So that they stood still, and hardly believing their Eyes, that would persuade them that it was Cæsar that spoke to them, so much he was alter’d; they ask’d him, what he had done with his Wife, for they smelt a Stink that almost struck them dead? He pointing to the dead Body, sighing, cry’d, Behold her there. They put off the Flowers that cover’d her, with their Sticks, and found she was kill’d, and cry’d out, Oh, Monster! that hast murder’d thy Wife. Then asking him, why he did so cruel a Deed? He reply’d, He had no Leisure to answer impertinent Questions: ‘You may go back (continued he) and tell the faithless Governor, he may thank Fortune that I am breathing my last; and that my Arm is too feeble to obey my Heart, in what it had design’d him’: But his Tongue faultering, and trembling, he could scarce end what he was saying. The English taking Advantage by his Weakness, cry’d, Let us take him alive by all Means. He heard ’em; and, as if he had reviv’d from a Fainting, or a Dream, he cried out, ‘No, Gentlemen, you are deceived; you will find no more Cæsars to be whipt; no more find a Faith in me; Feeble as you think me, I have Strength yet left to secure me from a second Indignity.’ They swore all anew; and he only shook his Head, and beheld them with Scorn. Then they cry’d out, Who will venture on this single Man? Will nobody? They stood all silent, while Cæsar replied, Fatal will be the Attempt of the first Adventurer, let him assure himself, (and, at that Word, held up his Knife in a menacing Posture:) Look ye, ye faithless Crew, said he, ’tis not Life I seek, nor am I afraid of dying, (and at that Word, cut a Piece of Flesh from his own Throat, and threw it at ’em) yet still I would live if I could, till I had perfected my Revenge: But, oh! it cannot be; I feel Life gliding from my Eyes and Heart; and if I make not haste, I shall fall a Victim to the shameful Whip. At that, he rip’d up his own Belly, and took his Bowels and pull’d ’em out, with what Strength he could; while some, on their Knees imploring, besought him to hold his Hand. But when they saw him tottering, they cry’d out, Will none venture on him? A bold Englishman cry’d, Yes, if he were the Devil, (taking Courage when he saw him almost dead) and swearing a horrid Oath for his farewel to the World, he rush’d on him. Cæsar with his arm’d Hand, met him so fairly, as stuck him to the Heart, and he Fell dead at his feet. Tuscan seeing that, cry’d out, I love thee, O Cæsar! and therefore will not let thee die, if possible; and running to him, took him in his Arms; but, at the same time, warding a Blow that Cæsar made at his Bosom, he receiv’d it quite through his Arm; and Cæsar having not Strength to pluck the Knife forth, tho’ he attempted it, Tuscan neither pull’d it out himself, nor suffer’d it to be pull’d out, but came down with it sticking in his Arm; and the Reason he gave for it, was, because the Air should not get into the Wound. They put their Hands a-cross, and carry’d Cæsar between six of ’em, fainting as he was, and they thought dead, or just dying; and they brought him to Parham, and laid him on a Couch, and had the Chirurgeon immediately to him, who dressed his Wounds, and sow’d up his Belly, and us’d Means to bring him to Life, which they effected. We ran all to see him; and, if before we thought him so beautiful a Sight, he was now so alter’d, that his Face was like a Death’s-Head black’d over, nothing but Teeth and Eye-holes: For some Days we suffer’d no Body to speak to him, but caused Cordials to be poured down his Throat; which sustained his Life, and in six or seven Days he recovered his Senses: For, you must know, that Wounds are almost to a Miracle cur’d in the Indies; unless Wounds in the Legs, which they rarely ever cure.
When he was well enough to speak, we talk’d to him, and ask’d him some Questions about his Wife, and the Reasons why he kill’d her; and he then told us what I have related of that Resolution, and of his Parting, and he besought us we would let him die, and was extremely afflicted to think it was possible he might live: He assur’d us, if we did not dispatch him, he would prove very fatal to a great many. We said all we could to make him live, and gave him new Assurances; but he begg’d we would not think so poorly of him, or of his Love to Imoinda, to imagine we could flatter him to Life again: But the Chirurgeon assur’d him he could not live, and therefore he need not fear. We were all (but Cæsar) afflicted at this News, and the Sight was ghastly: His Discourse was sad; and the earthy Smell about him so strong, that I was persuaded to leave the Place for some time, (being my self but sickly, and very apt to fall into Fits of dangerous Illness upon any extraordinary Melancholy.) The Servants, and Trefry, and the Chirurgeons, promis’d all to take what possible Care they could of the Life of Cæsar; and I, taking Boat, went with other Company to Colonel Martin’s, about three Days Journey down the River. But I was no sooner gone, than the Governor taking Trefry, about some pretended earnest Business, a Day’s Journey up the River, having communicated his Design to one Banister, a wild Irish Man, one of the Council, a Fellow of absolute Barbarity, and fit to execute any Villany, but rich; he came up to Parham, and forcibly took Cæsar, and had him carried to the same Post where he was whipp’d; and causing him to be ty’d to it, and a great Fire made before him, he told him he should die like a Dog, as he was. Cæsar replied, This was the first piece of Bravery that ever Banister did, and he never spoke Sense till he pronounc’d that Word; and if he would keep it, he would declare, in the other World, that he was the only Man, of all the Whites, that ever he heard speak Truth. And turning to the Men that had bound him, he said, My Friends, am I to die, or to be whipt? And they cry’d, Whipt! no, you shall not escape so well. And then he reply’d, smiling, A Blessing on thee; and assur’d them they need not tie him, for he would stand fix’d like a Rock, and endure Death so as should encourage them to die: But if you whip me (said he) be sure you tie me fast.
He had learn’d to take Tobacco; and when he was assur’d he should die, he desir’d they would give him a Pipe in his Mouth, ready lighted; which they did: And the Executioner came, and first cut off his Members, and threw them into the Fire; after that, with an ill-favour’d Knife, they cut off his Ears and his Nose, and burn’d them; he still smoak’d on, as if nothing had touch’d him; then they hack’d off one of his Arms, and still he bore up and held his Pipe; but at the cutting off the other Arm, his Head sunk, and his Pipe dropt, and he gave up the Ghost, without a Groan, or a Reproach. My Mother and Sister were by him all the While, but not suffer’d to save him; so rude and wild were the Rabble, and so inhuman were the Justices who stood by to see the Execution, who after paid dear enough for their Insolence. They cut Cæsar into Quarters, and sent them to several of the chief Plantations: One Quarter was sent to Colonel Martin; who refus’d it, and swore, he had rather see the Quarters of Banister, and the Governor himself, than those of Cæsar, on his Plantations; and that he could govern his Negroes, without terrifying and grieving them with frightful Spectacles of a mangled King.
Thus died this great Man, worthy of a better Fate, and a more sublime Wit than mine to write his Praise: Yet, I hope, the Reputation of my Pen is considerable enough to make his glorious Name to survive to all Ages, with that of the brave, the beautiful and the constant Imoinda.
Notes: Critical and Explanatory:
Oroonoko
p. 130 I gave ’em to the King’s Theatre. Sir Robert Howard and Dryden’s heroic tragedy, The Indian Queen, was produced at the Theatre Royal in mid-January, 1663. It is a good play, but the extraordinary success it attained was in no small measure due to the excellence and magnificence of the scenic effects and mounting. 27 January, Pepys noticed that the streets adjacent to the theatre were ‘full of coaches at the new play The Indian Queen, which for show, they say, exceeds Henry VIII.’ On 1 February he himself found it ‘indeed a most pleasant show’. The grandeur of the mise en scène became long proverbial in theatrical history. Zempoalla, the Indian Queen, a fine rôle, was superbly acted by Mrs. Marshall, the leading tragedienne of the day. The feathered ornaments which Mrs. Behn mentions must have formed a quaint but doubtless striking addition to the actress’s pseudo-classic attire. Bernbaum pictures ‘Nell Gwynn9 in the true costume of a Carib belle’, a quite unfair deduction from Mrs. Behn’s words.
p. 168 Osenbrigs. More usually ‘osnaburg’, so named from Osnabrück in North Germany, a kind of coarse linen made in this town. Narborough’s Journal, 1669 (An Account of Several Late Voyages, 1694), speaks of ‘Cloth, Osenbrigs, Tobacco’. cf. Pennsylvania Col. Records (1732): ‘That to each there be given a couple of Shirts, a Jackett, two pairs of trowsers of Oznabrigs.’
p. 174 as soon as the Governour arrived. The Governor was Francis Willoughby, fifth Baron Willoughby of Parham (1613? -1666). He had arrived at Barbadoes, 29 April, 1650, and was received as Governor 7 May, which same day he caused Charles II to be proclaimed. An ardent royalist, he was dispossessed by an Act of Parliament, 4 March, 1652, and summoned back to England. At the Restoration he was reinstated, and arrived the second time with full powers in Barbadoes, 10 August, 1663. About the end of July, 1666, he was lost at sea on board the good ship Hope.
p. 177 my Father.. never arriv’d to possess the Honour design’d him. Bernbaum, following the mistaken statement that Mrs. Behn’s father, John Amis, was a barber, argues that a man in such a position could hardly have obtained so important a post, and if her ‘father was not sent to Surinam, the only reason she gives for being there disappears.’ However, since we know her father to have been no barber, but of good family, this line of discussion falls to the ground.
p. 180 Brother to Harry Martin the great Oliverian. Henry, or Harry, and George Marten were the two sons of Sir Henry Marten (ob. 1641) and his first wife, Elizabeth, who died 19 June, 1618. For the elder brother, Henry Marten, (1602-80), see note Vol. I, p. 457. Cross-reference: Note from Volume I
p. 193 The Deputy Governor. William Byam was ‘Lieutenant General of Guiana and Governor of Willoughby Land’, 1661-7. Even previously to this he had gained no little influence and power in these colonies. He headed the forces that defended Surinam in 1667 against the Dutch Admiral Crynsens, who, however, proved victorious.
p. 198 my new Comedy. The Younger Brother; or, The Amorous Jilt, posthumously produced under the auspices of, and with some alterations by, Charles Gildon at Drury Lane in 1696. George Marteen, acted by Powell, is the young and gallant hero of the comedy.
p. 200 his Council. In The Widow Ranter Mrs. Behn draws a vivid picture of these deboshed ruffians.
p. 207 one Banister. Sergeant Major James Banister being, after Byam’s departure in 1667, ‘the only remaining eminent person’ became Lieutenant-Governor. It was he who in 1668 made the final surrender of the colony. Later, having quarrelled with the Dutch he was imprisoned by them.
Cross-Reference
Note to p. 180: For the elder brother, Henry Marten, (1602-80), see note Vol. I, p. 457.
Vol. I, p. 457 note (referring to The Roundheads, v, II):
p. 414 Peters the first, Martin the Second. Hugh Peters has been noticed before. Henry Martin was an extreme republican, and at one time even a Leveller. He was a commissioner of the High Court of Justice and a regicide. At the Restoration he was imprisoned for life and died at Chepstow Castle, 1681, aged seventy-eight. He was notorious for profligacy and shamelessness, and kept a very seraglio of mistresses.
AGNES DE CASTRO
INTRODUCTION
The ‘sweet sentimental tragedy’ of Agnes de Castro was founded by Mrs. Behn upon a work by Mlle S. B. de Brillac, Agnès de Castro, nouvelle portugaise (1688), and various subsequent editions. In the same year (1688) as Mrs. Behn’s Agnes de Castro; or, The Force of Generous Blood was published there appeared ‘Two New Novels, i. The Art of Making Love.10 ii. The Fatal Beauty of Agnes de Castro: Taken out of the History of Portugal. Translated from the French by P. B. G.11 For R. Bentley’ (12mo). Each has a separate title page. Bellon’s version does not differ materially from Mrs. Behn, but she far exceeds him in spirit and niceness of style.
So much legend has surrounded the romantic history of the beautiful Ines de Castro that it is impossible fully to elucidate every detail of her life. Born in the early years of the fourteenth century, she was the daughter of Pedro Fernandez de Castro, major domo to Alphonso XI of Castille. She accompanied her relative, Dona Constança Manuel, daughter to the Duke of Peñafiel, to the court of Alphonso IV of Portugal when this lady was to wed the Infante Don Pedro. Here Ines excited the fondest love in Pedro’s heart and the passion was reciprocated. She bore him several children, and there can be no doubt that Dona Constança was madly jealous of her husband’s amour with her fair friend. 13 November, 1345, Constança died, and Pedro immediately married his mistress at Braganza in the presence of the Bishop of Guarda. Their nuptials were kept secret, and the old King kept pressing his son to take a wife. Before long his spies found out the reason of the Infante’s constant refusals; and, beside himself with rage, he watched an opportunity whilst Pedro, on a great hunting expedition, was absent from Coimbra where they resided, and had Ines cruelly assassinated 7 January, 1355. The grief of Pedro was terrible, he plunged the country into civil war, and it was only by the tenderest solicitations of his mother and the authority of several holy monks and bishops that he was restrained from taking a terrible revenge upon his father. Alphonso died, his power curtailed, his end unhappy, May, 1357.
A very literature has grown up around the lovely Ines, and many more than a hundred items of interest could be enumerated. The best authority is J. de Araujo, whose monumental Bibliographia Inesiana was published in 1897. Mrs. Behn’s novel was immensely popular and is included, with some unnecessary moral observations as preface, in Mrs. Griffith’s A Collection of Novels (1777), Vol. III, which has a plate illustrating the tale. It was turned into French by Marie-Geneviève-Charlotte Tiroux d’ Arconville (1720-1805), wife of a councillor of the Parliament, an aimable blue-stocking who devoted her life wholly to literature, and translated freely from English. This work is to be found in Romans (les deux premiers.. tirés des Lettres Persanes.. par M. Littleton et le dernier.. d’un Recueil de Romans.. de Madame Behn) traduits de l’ Anglois, (Amsterdam, 1761.) It occurs again in Mélanges de Litterature (12mo, 1775, etc.), Vol. VI.
A tragedy, Agnes de Castro, written by that philosophical lady, Catherine Trotter (afterwards Cockburn), at the early age of sixteen, and produced at the Theatre Royal, 1696, with Powell, Verbruggen, Mrs. Rogers in the principal parts, is directly founded upon Mrs. Behn. It is a mediocre play, and the same can even more truly be said of Mallet’s cold Elvira (1763). This was acted, however, with fair success thirteen times. Garrick played Don Pedro, his last original part, and Mrs. Cibber Elvira. Such dull exercises as C. Symmons, Inez, a tragedy (1796), and Ignez de Castro, a tragedy in verse, intended for Hoad’s Magazine call for no comment.
There is a French play by Lamotte on the subject of Ines de Castro, which was first produced 6 April, 1723. Voltaire found the first four acts execrable and laughed consumedly. The fifth was so tender and true that he melted into tears. In Italian we have, from the pen of Bertoletti, Inez de Castro, tragedia, Milano, 1826.
In Spanish and Portuguese there are, of course, innumerable poems, treaties, tragedies, studies, romances. Lope de Vega wrote Dona Inez de Castro, and the beautiful episode of Camoens is deservedly famous. Antonio Ferreira’s splendid tragedy is well known. First published in Comedias Famosas dos Doctores de Sa de Mirande (4to, 1622), it can also be read in Poemas lusitanos (2 Vols., 8vo, Lisbon, 1771). Domingo dos Reis Quita wrote a drama, Ignez de Castro, a translation of which, by Benjamin Thompson, was published in 1800. There is also a play Dona Ignez de Castro, by Nicolas Luiz, which was Englished by John Adamson, whose version was printed at Newcastle, 1808.
THE HISTORY OF
AGNES de CASTRO
Tho’ Love, all soft and flattering, promises nothing but Pleasures; yet its Consequences are often sad and fatal. It is not enough to be in love, to be happy; since Fortune, who is capricious, and takes delight to trouble the Repose of the most elevated and virtuous, has very little respect for passionate and tender Hearts, when she designs to produce strange Adventures.
Many Examples of past Ages render this Maxim certain; but the Reign of Don Alphonso the IVth, King of Portugal, furnishes us with one, the most extraordinary that History can produce.
He was the Son of that Don Denis, who was so successful in all his Undertakings, that it was said of him, that he was capable of performing whatever he design’d, (and of Isabella, a Princess of eminent Virtue) who when he came to inherit a flourishing and tranquil State, endeavour’d to establish Peace and Plenty in abundance in his Kingdom.
And to advance this his Design, he agreed on a Marriage between his Son Don Pedro (then about eight Years of Age) and Bianca, Daughter of Don Pedro, King of Castile; and whom the young Prince married when he arriv’d to his sixteenth Year.
Bianca brought nothing to Coimbra but Infirmities and very few Charms. Don Pedro, who was full of Sweetness and Generosity, lived nevertheless very well with her; but those Distempers of the Princess degenerating into the Palsy, she made it her request to retire, and at her Intercession the Pope broke the Marriage, and the melancholy Princess conceal’d her Languishment in a solitary Retreat: And Don Pedro, for whom they had provided another Match, married Constantia Manuel, Daughter of Don John Manuel, a Prince of the Blood of Castile, and famous for the Enmity he had to his King.
Constantia was promised to the King of Castile; but the King not keeping his word, they made no Difficulty of bestowing her on a young Prince, who was one Day to reign over a number of fine Provinces. He was but five and twenty years of Age, and the Man of all Spain that had the best Fashion and Grace: and with the most advantageous Qualities of the Body he possest those of the Soul, and shewed himself worthy in all things of the Crown that was destin’d for him.
The Princess Constantia had Beauty, Wit, and Generosity, in as great a measure as ’twas possible for a Woman to be possest with; her Merit alone ought to have attach’d Don Pedro, eternally to her; and certainly he had for her an Esteem, mix’d with so great a Respect, as might very well pass for Love with those that were not of a nice and curious Observation: but alas! his real Care was reserved for another Beauty.
Constantia brought into the World, the first Year after her Marriage, a Son, who was called Don Louis: but it scarce saw the Light, and dy’d almost as soon as born. The loss of this little Prince sensibly touched her, but the Coldness she observ’d in the Prince her Husband, went yet nearer her Heart; for she had given her self absolutely up to her Duty, and had made her Tenderness for him her only Concern: But puissant Glory, which ty’d her so entirely to the Interest of the Prince of Portugal, open’d her Eyes upon his Actions, where she observ’d nothing in his Caresses and Civilities that was natural, or could satisfy her delicate Heart.
At first she fancy’d her self deceiv’d, but time having confirmed her in what she fear’d, she sighed in secret; yet had that Consideration for the Prince, as not to let him see her Disorder: and which nevertheless she could not conceal from Agnes de Castro, who lived with her, rather as a Companion, than a Maid of Honour, and whom her Friendship made her infinitely distinguish from the rest.
This Maid, so dear to the Princess, very well merited the Preference her Mistress gave her; she was beautiful to excess, wise, discreet, witty, and had more Tenderness for Constantia than she had for her self, having quitted her Family, which was illustrious, to give her self wholly to the Service of the Princess, and to follow her into Portugal. It was into the Bosom of this Maid, that the Princess unladed her first Moans; and the charming Agnes forgot nothing that might give ease to her afflicted Heart.
Nor was Constantia the only Person who complained of Don Pedro: Before his Divorce from Bianca, he had expressed some Care and Tenderness for Elvira Gonzales, Sister to Don Alvaro Gonzales, Favourite to the King of Portugal; and this Amusement in the young Years of the Prince, had made a deep Impression on Elvira, who flatter’d her Ambition with the Infirmities of Bianca. She saw, with a secret Rage, Constantia take her place, who was possest with such Charms, that quite divested her of all Hopes.
Her Jealousy left her not idle, she examined all the Actions of the Prince, and easily discover’d the little Regard he had for the Princess; but this brought him not back to her. And it was upon very good grounds that she suspected him to be in love with some other Person, and possessed with a new Passion; and which she promised herself, she would destroy as soon as she could find it out. She had a Spirit altogether proper for bold and hazardous Enterprizes; and the Credit of her Brother gave her so much Vanity, as all the Indifference of the Prince was not capable of humbling.
The Prince languished, and concealed the Cause with so much Care, that ’twas impossible for any to find it out. No publick Pleasures were agreeable to him, and all Conversations were tedious; and it was Solitude alone that was able to give him any ease.
This Change surprized all the World. The King, who loved his Son very tenderly, earnestly pressed him to know the Reason of his Melancholy; but the Prince made no answer, but only this, That it was the effect of his Temper.
But Time ran on, and the Princess was brought to bed of a second Son, who liv’d, and was called Fernando. Don Pedro forc’d himself a little to take part in the publick Joy, so that they believ’d his Humour was changing; but this Appearance of a Calm endur’d not long, and he fell back again into his black Melancholy.
The artful Elvira was incessantly agitated in searching out the Knowledge of this Secret. Chance wrought for her; and, as she was walking, full of Indignation and Anger, in the Garden of the Palace of Coimbra, she found the Prince of Portugal sleeping in an obscure Grotto.
Her Fury could not contain it self at the sight of this loved Object, she roll’d her Eyes upon him, and perceived in spite of Sleep, that some Tears escaped his Eyes; the Flame which burnt yet in her Heart, soon grew soft and tender there: But oh! she heard him sigh, and after that utter these words, Yes, Divine Agnes, I will sooner die than let you know it: Constantia shall have nothing to reproach me with. Elvira was enraged at this Discourse, which represented to her immediately, the same moment, Agnes de Castro with all her Charms; and not at all doubting, but it was she who possest the Heart of Don Pedro, she found in her Soul more Hatred for this fair Rival, than Tenderness for him.
The Grotto was not a fit Place to make Reflections in, or to form Designs. Perhaps her first Transports would have made her waken him, if she had not perceived a Paper lying under his Hand, which she softly seiz’d on; and that she might not be surprized in the reading it, she went out of the Garden with as much haste as confusion.
When she was retired to her Apartment, she open’d the Paper, trembling, and found in it these Verses, writ by the Hand of Don Pedro; and which, in appearance, he had newly then compos’d.
In vain, Oh! Sacred Honour, you debate
The mighty Business in my Heart:
Love! Charming Love! rules all my Fate;
Interest and Glory claim no part.
The God, sure of his Victory, triumphs there,
And will have nothing in his Empire share.
In vain, Oh! Sacred Duty, you oppose;
In vain, your Nuptial Tye you plead:
Those forc’d Devoirs LOVE overthrows,
And breaks the Vows he never made.
Fixing his fatal Arrows every where,
I burn and languish in a soft Despair.
Fair Princess, you to whom my Faith is due;
Pardon the Destiny that drags me on:
’Tis not my fault my Heart’s untrue,
I am compell’d to be undone.
My Life is yours, I gave it with my Hand,
But my Fidelity I can’t command.
Elvira did not only know the Writing of Don Pedro, but she knew also that he could write Verses. And seeing the sad Part which Constantia had in these which were now fallen into her hands, she made no scruple of resolving to let the Princess see ’em: but that she might not be suspected, she took care not to appear in this Business her self; and since it was not enough for Constantia to know that the Prince did not love her, but that she must know also that he was a Slave to Agnes de Castro, Elvira caused these few Verses to be written in an unknown Hand, under those writ by the Prince.
Sleep betrayed th’ unhappy Lover,
While Tears were streaming from his Eyes;
His heedless Tongue without disguise,
The Secret did discover:
The Language of his Heart declare,
That Agnes’ Image triumphs there.
Elvira regarded neither Exactness nor Grace in these Lines: And if they had but the effect she design’d, she wished no more.
Her Impatience could not wait till the next day to expose them: she therefore went immediately to the Lodgings of the Princess, who was then walking in the Garden of the Palace; and passing without resistance, even to her Cabinet, she put the Paper into a Book, in which the Princess used to read, and went out again unseen, and satisfy’d with her good Fortune.
As soon as Constantia was return’d, she enter’d into her Cabinet, and saw the Book open, and the Verses lying in it, which were to cost her so dear: She soon knew the Hand of the Prince which was so familiar to her; and besides the Information of what she had always fear’d, she understood it was Agnes de Castro (whose Friendship alone was able to comfort her in her Misfortunes) who was the fatal Cause of it: she read over the Paper an hundred times, desiring to give her Eyes and Reason the Lye; but finding but too plainly she was not deceiv’d, she found her Soul possest with more Grief than Anger: when she consider’d, as much in love as the Prince was, he had kept his Torment secret. After having made her moan, without condemning him, the Tenderness she had for him, made her shed a Torrent of Tears, and inspir’d her with a Resolution of concealing her Resentment.
She would certainly have done it by a Virtue extraordinary, if the Prince, who missing his Verses when he waked, and fearing they might fall into indiscreet Hands, had not enter’d the Palace, all troubled with his Loss; and hastily going into Constantia’s Apartment, saw her fair Eyes all wet with Tears, and at the same instant cast his own on the unhappy Verses that had escaped from his Soul, and now lay before the Princess.
He immediately turned pale at this sight, and appear’d so mov’d, that the generous Princess felt more Pain than he did: ‘Madam, said he, (infinitely alarm’d) from whom had you that Paper? It cannot come but from the Hand of some Person, answer’d Constantia, who is an Enemy both to your Repose and mine. It is the Work, Sir, of your own Hand; and doubtless the Sentiment of your Heart. But be not surprized, and do not fear; for if my Tenderness should make it pass for a Crime in you, the same Tenderness which nothing is able to alter, shall hinder me from complaining.’
The Moderation and Calmness of Constantia, served only to render the Prince more asham’d and confus’d. How generous are you, Madam, (pursu’d he) and how unfortunate am I! Some Tears accompany’d his Words, and the Princess, who lov’d him with extreme Ardour, was so sensibly touch’d, that it was a good while before she could utter a word. Constantia then broke silence, and shewing him what Elvira had caus’d to be written: You are betray’d, Sir, (added she) you have been heard speak, and your Secret is known. It was at this very moment that all the Forces of the Prince abandon’d him; and his Condition was really worthy Compassion: He could not pardon himself the involuntary Crime he had committed, in exposing of the lovely and the innocent Agnes. And tho’ he was convinced of the Virtue and Goodness of Constantia, the Apprehensions that he had, that this modest and prudent Maid might suffer by his Conduct, carry’d him beyond all Consideration.