A Sonnet Upon The Pitiful Burning Of The Globe Playhouse In
Now sit thee down, Melpomene,
Wrapp'd in a sea-coal robe,
And tell the doleful tragedy
That late was play'd at Globe;
For no man that can sing and say
But was scar'd on St. Peter's Day.
Oh sorrow, pitiful sorrow, and yet all this is true.
All you that please to understand,
Come listen to my story,
To see Death with his raking brand