'Read before dinner a few pages of 'Paracelsus', which raises my wonder the more I read it. . . . Looked over two plays, which it was not possible to read, hardly as I tried. . . . Read some scenes in 'Strafford', which restore one to the world of sense and feeling once again.' But as the day of the performance drew near, he became at once more anxious and more critical. An entry of April 28 comments somewhat sharply on the dramatic faults of 'Strafford', besides declaring the writer's belief that the only chance for it is in the acting, which, 'by possibility, might carry it to the end without disapprobation,' though he dares not hope without opposition. It is quite conceivable that his first complete study of the play, and first rehearsal of it, brought to light deficiencies which had previously escaped him; but so complete a change of sentiment points also to private causes of uneasiness and irritation; and, perhaps, to the knowledge that its being saved by collective good acting was out of the question. 'Strafford' was performed at Covent Garden Theatre on May 1. Mr. Browning wrote to Mr. Fox after one of the last rehearsals: May Day, Lincoln's Inn Fields. Dear Sir,--All my endeavours to procure a copy before this morning have been fruitless. I send the first book of the first bundle. _Pray_ look over it--the alterations to-night will be considerable. The complexion of the piece is, I grieve to say, 'perfect gallows' just now--our _King_, Mr. Dale, being . . . but you'll see him, and, I fear, not much applaud. Your unworthy son, in things literary, Robert Browning. P.S. (in pencil).--A most unnecessary desire, but urged on me by Messrs. Longman: no notice on Str. in to-night's True Sun,* lest the other papers be jealous!!! * Mr. Fox reviewed 'Strafford' in the 'True Sun'. A second letter, undated, but evidently written a day or two later, refers to the promised notice, which had then appeared. Tuesday Night. No words can express my feelings: I happen to be much annoyed and unwell--but your most generous notice has almost made 'my soul well and happy now.' I thank you, my most kind, most constant friend, from my heart for your goodness--which is brave enough, just now. I am ever and increasingly yours, Robert Browning. You will be glad to see me on the earliest occasion, will you not? I shall certainly come. A letter from Miss Flower to Miss Sarah Fox (sister to the Rev. William Fox), at Norwich, contains the following passage, which evidently continues a chapter of London news: