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,