"I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall. I am going up to dine with my sister. Ruth loved him. Beauty has bloomed and faded. The windows were grated, the doors barred; each room had the name as well as the appearance of a cell; and the very porter who stood at the gate, habited like a jailer, with his huge bunch of keys at his girdle, his forbidding countenance and surly demeanour seemed to be borrowed from Newgate. There were two of them. The latter has, since, been induced to unite herself to Sir Cecil, on terms originating with her brother, and which, however strange and unprecedented, were acquiesced in by the suitor.
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