Some Pallace burning, or some fired Street,
Call’d from where they were fighting in the Trench;
They in their way with Balls of Wilde-fire meet,
So plagued are the miserable French,
Not aboue head, but also vnder feet:
For the fierce English vowe the Towne to take,
Or of it soone a heape of stones to make.
Hot is the Siege the English comming on,
As men so long to be kept out that scorne,
Carelesse of wounds as they were made of stone;