And why should man be justified in maiming us,
Because he had the privilege of naming us?
“You ladies! You whose gentle hearts do fear
The smallest monstrous mouse,” what make you here?
Are those the eyes to gaze on slaughtered doves,
The chosen birds of Venus and the Loves?
Alas! what hypocrites of half-a-score, to
Watch the death agonies oculo irretorto.
But when some wretch surmounts the fatal paling,
Sick unto death with sight and pinions failing,