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 lie 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 itself several times in compass; and, amongst other things that night, the sight of Guildhall 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 solid oak,) in a bright shining coal as if it had been a palace of gold, or a great building of burnished brass.[4]
His account of the plague in God's Terrible Voice in the City by Plague and Fire, 1667, is graphic; seven in his own household died as a result of the plague.[2] Subsequently, he gathered a large congregation at Hoxton, apparently in a wooden meeting-house, of which for a time he was dispossessed.[2]
Dunn, Samuel (1844). Memoirs of the seventy-five eminent divines:whose discourses form the morning exercises at Cripplegate, St. Giles in the fields, and in Southwark ; with an outline of a sermon from each author. J. Snow. pp. 149, 150.
Vincent, Thomas (1811) [1667]. God's terrible voice in the city: Wherin are set forth the sound of the voice, in a narration of the two dreadful judgements of plague and fire, inflicted upon the city of London; in the years 1665, and 1666. Printed and sold by Lockwood & Backus. p. 49, 50.
Vincent, Thomas (1812). The true Christians love of the unseen Christ, or, A discourse chiefly tending to excite and promote the decaying love of Christ in the hearts of Christians. J. Eastburn. pp. 3, 6.