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.