makes the more furious onset, drives back all opposers, snatches the weapons out of their hands, seizes upon the water-houses and engines, and makes them unfit for service. Some are upon their knees in the night, pouring out tears before the Lord, interceding for poor London in the day of its calamity; yet none can prevail to reverse that doom, which is gone forth against the city, the fire hath received its commission, and all attempts to hinder it are in vain.

Sunday night the fire had got as far as Garlick-hithe in Thames-street, and had crept up into Cannon-street, and levelled it with the ground, and still is making forward by the waterside, and upward to the brow of the hill on which the city was built.

On Monday, Gracechurch-street is all in flames, with Lombard street on the left, and part of Fenchurch-street on the right, the fire working (though not so fast) against the wind that way: before it, were pleasant and stately houses; behind it, ruinous and desolate heaps. The burning then was in fashion of a bow; a dreadful bow it was! such as few eyes had ever seen before!

Now the flames break in upon Cornhill, that large and spacious street, and quickly cross the way by the train of wood that lay in the streets untaken away, which had been pulled down from houses to prevent its spreading, and so they lick the whole streets as they go; they mount up to the tops of the highest houses, they descend down to the bottom of the lowest cellars; they march along both sides of the way, with such a roaring noise as never was heard in the city of London; no stately buildings so great as to resist their fury: the Royal Exchange itself, the glory of the merchants, is now invaded, and when once the fire was entered, how quickly did it run through the galleries, filling them with flames; then descending the stairs, compasseth the walks, giveth forth flaming vollies, and filleth the court with fire: by and bye down fall all the kings upon their faces, and the greatest part of the building upon them, (the founder's statue only remaining) with such a noise as was dreadful and astonishing.

September the third, the Exchange was burnt, and in three days almost all the city within the walls: the people having none to conduct them right, could do nothing to resist it, but stand and see their houses burn without remedy; the engines being presently out of order and useless!

Then! then! the city did shake indeed! and the inhabitants did tremble! they flew away in great amazement from their houses, lest the flames should devour them. Rattle! rattle! rattle! was the noise which the fire struck upon the ear round about, as if there had been a thousand iron chariots beating upon the stones; and if you turned your eyes to the opening of the streets where the fire was come, you might see in some places whole streets at once in flames, that issued forth as if they had been so many forges from the opposite windows, and which folding together united into one great volume throughout the whole street; and then you might see the houses tumble, tumble, tumble, from one end of the street to the other, with a great crash! leaving the foundations open to the view of the heavens.

Now fearfulness and terror doth surprise all the citizens of London; men were in a miserable hurry, full of distraction and confusions; they had not the command of their own thoughts, to reflect and enquire what was fit and proper to be done. It would have grieved the heart of an unconcerned person, to see the rueful looks, the pale cheeks, the tears trickling down from the eyes (where the greatness of sorrow and amazement could give leave for such a vent) the smiting of the breast, the wringing of the hands; to hear the sighs and groans, the doleful and weeping speeches of the distressed citizens, when they were bringing forth their wives (some from their child-bed) and their little ones (some from their sick beds) out of their houses, and sending them into the fields, with their goods.—Now the hope of London is gone; their heart is sunk: Now there is a general remove in the city, and that in a greater hurry than before the plague; their goods being in greater danger by the fire, than their persons were by the pestilence. Scarcely are some returned, but they must remove again; and not as before; now, without any more hopes of ever returning and living in those houses any more. The streets were crowded with people and carts, to carry what goods they could get out; they who were most active and had most money to pay carriage at exorbitant prices, saved much, the rest lost almost all. Carts, drays, coaches, and horses, as many as could have entrance into the city were laden, and any money is given for help; five, ten, twenty, thirty pounds for a cart, to bear forth to the fields some choice things which were ready to be consumed; and some of the countrymen had the conscience to accept the prices which the citizens did offer in their extremity. Now casks of wine and oil, and other commodities, tumbled along, and the owners shove as much as they can toward the gates: every one became a porter to himself and scarcely a back, either of man or woman, but had a burden on it in the streets. It was very melancholy to see such throngs of poor citizens coming in and going forth from the unburnt parts, heavy loaden, with pieces of their goods, but more heavy loaden with grief and sorrow of heart; so that it is wonderful they did not quite sink down under their burdens.

Monday night was a dreadful night! When the wings of the night had shadowed the light of the heavenly bodies, there was no darkness of night in London, for the fire shines now about with a fearful blaze, which yielded such light in the streets as it had been the sun at noon-day. The fire having wrought backward strangely against the wind to Billingsgate, &c., along Thames-street, eastward, runs up the hill to Tower-street; and having marched on from Gracechurch-street, maketh farther progress in Fenchurch-street; and having spread its rage beyond Queen-hithe in Thames-street, westward, mounts up from the waterside through Dowgate and Old Fish-street into Watling-street; but the great fury was in the broader streets; in the midst of the night it came into Cornhill, and laid it in the dust, and running along by the Stocks, there meets with another fire which came down Threadneedle-street, a little farther with another which came up Walbrook; a little farther with another which comes up Bucklersbury; and all these four meeting together, break into one of the corners of Cheapside, with such a dazzling glare, burning heat, and roaring noise, by the falling of so many houses together, that was very amazing! and though it was somewhat stopped in its swift course at Mercer's chapel, yet with great force, in a while it burns through it, and then with great rage proceedeth forward in Cheapside.

On Tuesday, was the fire burning up the very bowels of London; Cheapside is all in a light fire in a few hours' time; many fires meeting there as in centre; from a Soper-lane, Bow-lane, Bread-street, Friday-street, and Old Change, the fire comes up almost together, and breaks furiously into the broad street, and most of that side the way was together in flames: a dreadful spectacle! and then, partly by the fire which came down from Mercer's chapel, partly by the fall of the houses cross the way, the other side is quickly kindled, and doth not stand long after it.

Now the fire gets into Blackfriars, and so continues its course by the water, and makes up toward St. Paul's church on that side, and Cheapside fire besets the great building on this side; and the church, though all of stone outward, though naked of houses about it, and though so high above all buildings in the city, yet within awhile doth yield to the violent assaults of the all-conquering flames, and strangely takes fire at the top: now the lead melts and runs down, as if it had been snow before the sun; and the great beams and massy stones, with a hideous noise, fell on the pavement, and break through into Faith church underneath; and