Thence we still descended until I saw an immense cavern wherein was such fearful clamor that I had never heard the like before—­swearing, cursing, blaspheming, snarling, groaning and yelling.  “Whom have we here?” I asked.  “This,” answered he, “is the Den of Thieves; here are myriads of foresters, lawyers and stewards, with old Judas in their midst.”  And it grieved them sorely to behold a pack of tailors and weavers above them in a more comfortable chamber.  Hardly had I turned round when a demon, in the shape of a steed, bore in a physician, and an apothecary, and hurled them into the midst of the pedlars and horse cheats, because they had sold worthless drugs.  And they too began murmuring against being allotted to such low society.  “Stay, stay,” cried one of the devils, “ye deserve a better place,” and he pitched them down amongst conquerors and murderers.  There were vast numbers in here for playing false dice and cheating at cards, but before I had time to observe them closely, I could hear by the door a huge crowd in wild tumult and shouts—­hai, hw, ptrw-how-ho-o-o-p—­as of cattle being driven along.  I turned round to see the cause of it, but could perceive only the horned demons.  I enquired of my Guide if there were cuckolds with the devils.  “No,” said he, “they are in another cell; these are drovers who wished to escape to the prison of the Sabbath-breakers, and are sent here against their will.”  Thereupon I look and saw that they had on their heads the horns of sheep and kine; and those that were driving them on, cast them down beneath the feet of blood-stained robbers.  “Lie there,” said one, “however much ye feared footpads on the London road erstwhile, ye yourselves were the very worst class of highwaymen, who made your living on the road and on robbery, yea and by the perishing of many a poor family whom ye left in hunger, vainly hoping for the sustenance of their possessions, while ye were in Ireland or in the King’s Bench laughing at them, or on the road with your wine and lemans.”  On leaving the furnace-like cave, I caught a glimpse of a haunt, which for loathsome, stinking abomination, went beyond anything (with one sole exception) that I had set my eyes upon in hell,—­where an accursed herd of drunken swine lay weltering in the foulest slime.

The next den was the abode of Gluttony, where Dives and his companions, wallowing on their bellies, devoured dirt and fire alternately, with never a drop to drink.  A little below this, was a very extensive roasting-kitchen, where some were being roasted and boiled, others broiling and flaming in a fiery chimney.  “This is the place of the merciless and the unfeeling,” said the Angel.  Turning a little to the left, where there was a cell lighter than any I had so far seen, I asked what place it was:  “The abode of the Infernal Dragons,” said he, “which growl and rage, rush about and rend one another every instant.”  I drew near and oh! what an indescribable sight they were!  It was the glowing