The flames vpspring,[1555] and cruelly they creepe
From wall to roofe, till all to cinders waste,
Some fyre the houses where the wretches sleepe,
Some rush in here, some run in there as fast:
In euery where or sword, or fyre, they tast:
The walls are torne, the towers whourld to the ground,
There is no mischiefe, but may there bee found.
67.
Cassandra yet there sawe I how they haled
From Pallas house, with spercled tresse vndone,