Not louder shrieks to pitying heav'n are cast, When husbands, or when lapdogs, breathe their last. — Alexander Pope

The hungry judges soon the sentence sign,

And wretches hang that jurymen may dine.

What dire offence from amorous causes springs,

What mighty contests rise from trivial things!

Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll;

Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.