The event aroused great
interest in London, and as a result we have numerous accounts of the
catastrophe supplying us with full details. We learn that on a warm
"sunne-shine" afternoon the large building was "filled with
people"--among whom were Ben Jonson, John Taylor (the Water-Poet), and
Sir Henry Wotton--to witness a new play by William Shakespeare and
John Fletcher, called _All is True_, or, as we now know it, _Henry
VIII_, produced with unusual magnificence. Upon the entrance of the
King in the fourth scene of the first act, two cannon were discharged
in a royal salute. One of the cannon hurled a bit of its wadding upon
the roof and set fire to the thatch; but persons in the audience were
so interested in the play that for a time they paid no attention to
the fire overhead. As a result they were soon fleeing for their lives;
and within "one short hour" nothing was left of the "stately" Globe.

I quote below some of the more interesting contemporary accounts of
this notable event. Howes, the chronicler, thus records the fact in
his continuation of Stow's _Annals_:

Upon St. Peter's Day last, the playhouse or theatre called
the Globe, upon the Bankside, near London, by negligent
discharge of a peal of ordnance, close to the south side
thereof, the thatch took fire, and the wind suddenly
dispersed the flames round about, and in a very short space
the whole building was quite consumed; and no man hurt: the
house being filled with people to behold the play, _viz._ of
Henry the Eight.[404]

[Footnote 404: Howes's continuation of Stow's _Annals_ (1631), p.
1003.]

Sir Henry Wotton, in a letter to a friend, gives the following gossipy
account:

Now to let matters of state sleep. I will entertain you at
the present with what happened this week at the Bankside.
The King's Players had a new play, called _All is True_,
representing some principal pieces of the reign of Henry the
Eighth, which was set forth with many extraordinary
circumstances of pomp and majesty, even to the matting of
the stage; the Knights of the Order with their Georges and
Garter, the guards with their embroidered coats, and the
like--sufficient in truth within awhile to make greatness
very familiar, if not ridiculous. Now King Henry, making a
masque at the Cardinal Wolsey's house, and certain cannons
being shot off at his entry, some of the paper