XXII.

Then in a gorgeous car of beaten gold, Drove on a portly man, of mighty rank,[335] A person comely, of extraction old; But, carrion-like, his reputation stank; Sly was the wight, with crafty quip and crank, To cram with glittering coin his bursting bags; Yet whilom taxing-men play’d him a prank, By catching in their traps some strayed nags, And eke some livery slaves, in miser’s livery rags.