Avarice.
The foulness of Avarice
Another image close allied
To Covetise stood side by side
With her. ’Twas Avarice, and she
Looked foul, and stooped most wretchedly.
Her wasted figure, lean and weak.
Was wan and pale as garden leek.
The while her visage, void of blood.
Bespoke her languorous wearihood.
Her corpse-like body looked as fed
On crusts of sour and mouldy bread210
Kneaded with leaven thin and eager;
And with intent to hide her meagre
Shrunken limbs she’d o’er them cast
A tattered threadbare garment, past
All hope of mendment, torn and slit,
As though fierce dogs had worried it.
In such poor wretched rags was she
Arrayed, God wot! right beggarly.
Hard by, upon a crazy pin,
Was hung her cloak, outworn and thin:220
Wrought of good brunette cloth, once fair
And soft, but now of ermine bare;
And, in the place of costly fur.
Poor Avarice contenteth her
With heavy lambskin, shag and black;
Full twenty years her skinny back
Hath borne its cumbrous weight, for shy
Is Avarice new clothes to buy.
But findeth ever some excuse
To spare her clouts due wear and use;230
