But there was no resisting strength of arm.
Yet wearied both with war, and vex’d at heart, 430
The slaves of passion judged it best to part.
Long they debated, nor could fix a rate
For a man’s peace with his contending mate;
But mutual hatred, scorn, and fear, assign’d
That price—that peace it was not theirs to find.
The watchful husband lived in constant hope
To hear the wife had ventured to elope;
But, though not virtuous, nor in much discreet,