The pleasing thought of enmity destroy’d, 110
And so destroy’d, that neither spite nor spleen,
Nor peevish look from that blest hour were seen;
Yet each his party and his spirit kept,
Though all the harsh and angry passions slept.
P. And they too sleep! and, at their joint request,
Within one tomb, beneath one stone, they rest!
TALE XIII.
THE DEAN’S LADY.
I.
Next, to a Lady I must bid adieu—