The only art her guilt to cover,

To hide her shame from every eye,

To give repentance to her lover,

And wring his bosom, is—to die.

Oliver Goldsmith (1728-1774): The Hermit. On Woman. Chap. xxiv.

'T is all men's office to speak patience

To those that wring under the load of sorrow,

But no man's virtue nor sufficiency

To be so moral when he shall endure

The like himself.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Much Ado about Nothing. Act v. Sc. 1.

And let me wring your heart; for so I shall,

If it be made of penetrable stuff.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Hamlet. Act iii. Sc. 4.