And greedy _Auarice_ by him did ride, xxvii Vpon a Camell loaden all with gold; Two iron coffers[149] hong on either side, With precious mettall full, as they might hold, And in his lap an heape of coine he told; For of his wicked pelfe[150] his God he made, And vnto hell him selfe for money sold; Accursed vsurie was all his trade, And right and wrong ylike in equall ballaunce waide. His life was nigh vnto deaths doore yplast, xxviii And thred-bare cote, and cobled shoes he ware, Ne scarse good morsell all his life did tast, But both from backe and belly still did spare, To fill his bags, and richesse to compare; Yet chylde ne kinsman liuing had he none To leaue them to; but thorough daily care To get, and nightly feare to lose his owne, He led a wretched life vnto him selfe vnknowne. Most wretched wight, whom nothing might suffise, xxix Whose greedy lust did lacke in greatest store, Whose need had end, but no end couetise, Whose wealth was want, whose plenty made him pore, Who had enough, yet wished euer more[151]; A vile disease, and eke in foote and hand A grieuous gout tormented him full sore, That well he could not touch, nor go, nor stand: Such one was _Auarice_, the fourth[152] of this faire band. And next to him malicious _Enuie_ rode, xxx Vpon a rauenous wolfe, and still did chaw Betweene his cankred teeth a venemous tode, That all the poison ran about his chaw[153]; But inwardly he chawed his owne maw At neighbours[154] wealth, that made him euer sad; For death it was, when any good he saw, And wept, that cause of weeping none he had, But when he heard of harme, he wexed wondrous glad. All in a kirtle of discolourd say xxxi He clothed was, ypainted full of eyes; And in his bosome secretly there lay An hatefull Snake, the which his taile vptyes In many folds, and mortall sting implyes. Still as he rode, he gnasht his teeth, to see Those heapes of gold with griple Couetyse, And grudged at the great felicitie Of proud _Lucifera_, and his owne companie. He hated all good workes and vertuous deeds, xxxii And him no lesse, that any like did vse, And who with gracious bread the hungry feeds, His almes for want of faith he doth accuse; So euery good to bad he doth abuse: And eke the verse of famous Poets witt He does backebite, and spightfull poison spues From leprous mouth on all, that euer writt: Such one vile _Enuie_ was, that fifte[155] in row did sitt.