So I was called for, and did tell the king and Duke of York what I saw, and that unless his majesty did command houses to be pulled down, nothing could stop the fire.  They seemed much troubled, and the king commanded me to go to my lord mayor from him and command him to spare no houses, but to pull down before the fire every way.  Meeting with Captain Cocke, I in his coach, which he lent me, to Paul’s, and there walked along Watling Street, as well as I could, every creature coming away loaded with goods to save, and here and there sick people carried away in beds.  At last met my lord mayor in Canning Street, like a man spent.  To the king’s message, he cried, like a fainting woman, “Lord! what can I do?  I am spent; people will not obey me.  I have been pulling down houses; but the fire overtakes us faster than we can do it.”  So I walked home, seeing people almost all distracted, and no manner of means used to quench the fire.  The houses, too, so very thick thereabouts, and full of matter for burning, as pitch and tar in Thames Street, and warehouses of oil and wines and brandy.

Soon as I dined, I away, and walked through the City, the streets full of people, and horses and carts loaden with goods.  To Paul’s Wharf, where I took boat, and saw the fire was now got further, both below and above bridge, and no likelihood of stopping it.  Met with the king and Duke of York in their barge.  Their order was only to pull down houses apace; but little was or could be done, the fire coming so fast.  Having seen as much as I could, I away to White Hall by appointment, and there walked to St. James’s Park, and there met my wife, and Creed and Wood and his wife, and walked to my boat; and upon the water again, and to the fire, still increasing, and the wind great.  So near the fire as we could for smoke, and all over the Thames you were almost burned with a shower of fire-drops.

When you could endure no more upon the water, we to a little ale-house on the Bankside, and there stayed till it was dark almost, and saw the fire grow; and as it grew darker, appeared more and more, and in corners and upon steeples, and between churches and houses, as far as we could see up the hill of the City, in a most horrid, malicious, bloody flame, not like the fine flame of an ordinary fire.  We stayed till, it being darkish, we saw the fire as only one entire arch of fire from this to the other side of the bridge, and in a bow up the hill for an arch of above a mile long; it made me weep to see it.  The churches, houses, and all on fire and flaming at once; and a horrid noise the flames made, and the cracking of houses at their ruin.  So home with a sad heart.

IV.—­Of the Badness of the Government