To which nor fish nor fowle did once approch,
But yelling Meawes, with Seagulles hoarse and bace,
And Cormoyrants, with birds of rauenous race,
Which still sate waiting[828] on that wastfull clift,
For spoyle of wretches, whose vnhappie cace,
After lost credite and consumed thrift,
At last them driuen hath to this despairefull drift.
The Palmer seeing them in safetie past, ix
Thus said; Behold[829] th’ensamples in our sights,
Of lustfull luxurie and thriftlesse wast: