sluggardness

For oh— Let the great spies of Jove, the sun and moon, The stars, and all the expeditious orbs That in their motions are retributive, Look blindly on, and seem to take no note Of any deep and deadly stab of sin— Let vengeance gorge a gross Cerberean sop, Grovel and snore in swinish sluggardness, Yea, quite forget his dagger and his cup— It is enough, for any retribution, That guilt retain remembrance of itself.