Do glad the shepheards in the lowly vaile:
So many thousand flames, that glaz’d the skies,
Did at that time glad all true English eies.
139.
But most of all, that plentious peopled towne,
Elizae’s best belou’d, faire London hight,
Her mistresse rare escape with ioy did crowne,
Whose loftie towers thrust vp themselues in sight,
And ioy’d to glitter in the golden light,
Affrighting sore sad night’s black drowzie dame,