God's terrible voice in the city

Now horrible flakes of fire mount up the sky, and the yellow smoke of London ascendeth up towards Heaven, like the smoke of a great Furnace; a smoke so great, as darkened the Sun at noon-day, (it at any time the Sun peeped forth, it looked red like blood) the Cloud of smoke was so great, that travellers did ride at noon day some miles together in the shadow thereof, though there were no other cloud beside to be seen in the sky.

Now horrible flakes of fire mount up the sky, and the yellow smoke of London ascendeth up towards Heaven, like the smoak of a great Furnace; a smoak so great, as darkned the Sun at noon-day, (it at any time the Sun peeped forth, it looked red like blood) the Cloud of smoak was so great, that travellers did ride at noon day some miles together in the shaddow thereof, though there were no other cloud beside to be seen in the sky.

And if Monday night was dreadful, Tuesday night was more dreadful, when far the greatest part of the City was consumed: many thousands who on Saturday had Houses convenient in the City, both for themselves, and to entertain others, now have not where to lay their head; and the fields are the only receptacle, which they can find for themselves and their goods; most of the late Inhabitants of London lye all night in the open Air, with no other canopy over them, but that of the Heavens: The fire is still making towards them, and threateneth the Suburbs; it was amazing to see, how it had spread it self several miles in compass; and amongst other things that night, the sight of Guild-hall was a fearful spectacle, which stood the whole body of it together in view, for several hours together, after the fire had taken it, without flames, (I suppose because the timber was such ⟨p. 67⟩solid Oak) in a bright shining coal as if it had been a Palace of gold, or a great building of burnished Brass.

And if Munday night was dreadfull, Tuesday night was more dreadfull, when far the greatest part of the City was consumed: many thousands who on Saturday had Houses convenient in the City, both for themselves, and to entertain others, now have not where to lay their head; and the fields are the only receptacle, which they can find for themselves and their goods; most of the late Inhabitants of London lye all night in the open Ayr, with no other canopy over them, but that of the Heavens: The fire is still making towards them, and threatneth the Suburbs; it was amazing to see, how it had spread it self several miles in compass; and amongst other things that night, the sight of Guild-hall was a fearfull spectacle, which stood the whole body of it together in view, for several hours together, after the fire had taken it, without flames, (I suppose because the timber was such