The dark hair almost mingled with the ruddy brown as Barbara's head fell on Nell's shoulder.

I heard a little sob, and Barbara moaned: "Oh, I'm tired, and very hungry." "Rest here, and you shall have food, my pretty," said Nell Gwyn.

"Simon, go and bid them give you some." I went, glad to go.

And as I went I heard, "There, pretty, don't cry." Well, women love to weep.

A plague on them, though, they need not make us also fools..