Thou goest like a dromedary, dreamy and drowsy;
I hold twenty pound the knave is lousy!
Just. Mine apparel is not like unto thine,
Disguised and jagged, of sundry fashion;
Howbeit, it is not gold always that doth shine,
But corrupting copper of small valuation;
Too horrible besides is thy operation,
Nothing more odious unto the just,
Than the beastly desires of inordinate lust.
Lust. It is a shameful thing, as Cicero doth say,