When you next come to see me I will show you Romeo’s letters. Fortunately I have kept them all. They are very beautiful, and some of them are in rime; and you will see for yourself whether he loved me or not. I cannot read them without crying. You have no idea what lovely things he says in them. For instance, one day he sent me a pair of silk gloves, and with them, written on a small scroll: Oh that I were a glove upon thy hand, That I might touch thy cheek. His letters were full of lovely things like that, and I cannot think of them without crying. Your loving ROSALINE. A FIRST NIGHT _Letter from Jean-Antoine de Binet to a Friend in Paris, July 20, 1602_ Yesterday I went to the theatre to see a Tragedy played by the Lord Chamberlain, his servants, called “The Revenge of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark.” I was taken thither by Guasconi, who is attached to the Italian Ambassador, and who desired that I should not miss any of the curiosities of the city. The play was new, and the theatre was crowded with people, many of whom were of high rank, since noblemen in this country are fond of visiting the playhouse. They sit in places kept for them on the stage, and encourage the players by applause, and they express their approval and their blame. The play is written partly in a kind of verse, which is pleasing to the ear and not without a certain happy fancy; but Guasconi told me that the English, who have learnt our science and make sonnets and madrigals after the pattern of our masters, do not consider this kind of writing to be either poetry or literature; but these rough and unpolished rhythms are used to tickle the popular ear and to please the taste of the common people.