Your purse-strings open free, and you’ve the place. 
          At times, no doubt, without these things, success
          Attends the gay gallant, we must confess;
          But then, good sense should o’er his actions rule;
          At all events, he must not be a fool. 
          The stingy, women ever will detest;
          Words puppies want;—­the lib’ral are the best.

          A Florentine, magnificent by name,
          Was what we’ve just described, in fact and fame;
          The title was bestowed upon the knight,
          For noble deeds performed by him in fight. 
          The honour ev’ry way he well deserved;
          His upright conduct (whence he never swerved,)
          Expensive equipage, and presents made,
          Proclaimed him all around what we’ve pourtrayed.

          Withhandsome person and a pleasing mien,
          Gallant, a polished air, and soul serene;
          A certain fair of noble birth he sought,
          Whose conquest, doubtless, brilliant would be thought;
          Which in our lover doubly raised desire;
          Renown and pleasure lent his bosom fire.

          Thejealous husband of the beauteous fair
          Was Aldobrandin, whose suspicious care
          Resembled more, what frequently is shown
          For fav’rites mistresses, than wives alone. 
          He watched her every step with all his eyes;
          A hundred thousand scarcely would suffice;
          Indeed, quite useless Cupid these can make;
          And Argus oft is subject to mistake: 
          Repeatedly they’re duped, although our wight,
          (Who fancied he in ev’ry thing was right,)
          Himself so perfectly secure believed,
          By gay gallants he ne’er could be deceived.

          Tosuitors, howsoe’er, he was not blind;
          To covet presents, greatly he inclined. 
          The lover yet had no occasion found,
          To drop a word to charms so much renowned;
          He thought his passion was not even seen;
          And if it had, would things have better been? 
          What would have followed? what had been the end? 
          The reader needs no hint to comprehend.

          Butto return to our forlorn gallant,
          Whose bosom for the lady’s ’gan to pant;
          He, to his doctor, not a word had said;
          Now here, now there, he tried to pop his head. 
          But neither door nor window could he find,
          Where he might glimpse the object of his mind,
          Or even hear her voice, or sound her name;
          No fortress had he ever found the same;
          Yet still to conquer he was quite resolved,
          And oft the manner in his mind revolved. 
          This plan at length he thought would best succeed,
          To execute it doubtless he had need
          Of ev’ry wily art he could devise,
          Surrounded as he was by eagle-eyes.