‘My dear Friend,—Inclosed is the draft. Pray use it as you please.
‘Ten o’clock.—I am just returned from “Romeo and Juliet.” At Verona I could think of nothing else through the night. A strange romantic melancholy hung over me there, such as we remember to have felt at sixteen.
‘In a Convent Garden they showed us Juliet’s coffin—the spiracle through which she breathed, and the niche in which her lamp stood burning. I looked at it, as you will believe, with the eye of Faith.’
