Than was it to behold through that dark valley The spirits languishing in divers heaps. This on the belly, that upon the back One of the other lay, and others crawling Shifted themselves along the dismal road. We step by step went onward without speech, Gazing upon and listening to the sick Who had not strength enough to lift their bodies. I saw two sitting leaned against each other, As leans in heating platter against platter, From head to foot bespotted o’er with scabs; And never saw I plied a currycomb By stable-boy for whom his master waits, Or him who keeps awake unwillingly, As everyone was plying fast the bite Of nails upon himself, for the great rage Of itching which no other succor had. And the nails downward with them dragged the scab, In fashion as a knife the scales of bream, Or any other fish that has them largest. “O thou, that with thy fingers dost dismail thee,” Began my Leader unto one of them, “And makest of them pincers now and then, Tell me if any Latian is with those