We naturally feel pity even for a bad man whose head is about to fall.

But, when a bad man is compelled to disgorge his ill-gotten gains, we naturally feel a vindictive pleasure, in which there is much danger that we may be tempted to indulge too largely.
The hearts of many stout Whigs doubtless bled at the thought of what Fenwick must have suffered, the agonizing struggle, in a mind not of the firmest temper, between the fear of shame and the fear of death, the parting from a tender wife, and all the gloomy solemnity of the last morning.

But whose heart was to bleed at the thought that Charles Duncombe, who was born to carry parcels and to sweep down a counting-house, was to be punished for his knavery by having his income reduced to eight thousand a year, more than most earls then possessed?
His judges were not likely to feel compassion for him; and they all had strong selfish reasons to vote against him.

They were all in fact bribed by the very bill by which he would be punished.
His property was supposed to amount to considerably more than four hundred thousand pounds.

Two thirds of that property were equivalent to about sevenpence in the pound on the rental of the kingdom as assessed to the land tax.