T’ extend this tale was never my design;
          Though known full well, I do not now repine;
          The case so thoroughly my purpose served. 
          Ne’er from the narrative the object swerved;
          And scarcely can I fancy, better light
          The doctor will afford to what I write. 
          The scenes that follow I from Rome have drawn;
          Not Rome of old, ere manners had their dawn,
          When customs were unpleasant and severe
          The females, silly, and gallants in fear;
          But Rome of modern days, delightful spot! 
          Where better tastes have into fashion got,
          And pleasure solely occupies the mind
          To rapture ev’ry bosom seems resigned. 
          A tempting journey truly it appears,
          For youths from twenty on to thirty years.

          Notlong ago, then, in the city dwelled,
          A master, who in teaching law excelled;
          In other matters he, howe’er, was thought
          A man that jollity and laughter sought. 
          He criticised whatever passed around,
          And oft, at others’ cost, diversion found.

          Ithappened that our learned doctor had,
          Among his many pupils (good and bad)
          A Frenchman, less designed to study laws,
          Than, in amours, perhaps, to gain applause. 
          One day, observing him with clouded mien,
          My friend, said he, you surely have the spleen,
          And, out of college, nothing seem to do;
          No law books read:—­some object I’d pursue;
          A handsome Frenchman should his hours improve;
          Seek soft intrigues, or as a lover move;
          Talents you have, and gay coquettes are here
          Not one, thank heav’n, but numbers oft appear.

          The, student answered, I am new at Rome,
          And, save the belles who sell their beauteous bloom,
          I can’t perceive, gallants much business find,
          Each house, like monasteries, is designed,
          With double doors, and bolts, and matrons sour,
          And husbands Argus-eyed, who’d you devour. 
          Where can I go to follow up your plan,
          And hope, in spots like these, a flame to fan? 
          ’Twere not less difficult to reach the moon,
          And with my teeth I’d bite it just as soon.

          Ha!  Ha! replied the doctor with delight,
          The honour which you do us is not slight;
          I pity men quite fresh and raw like you;
          Our town, I see, you’ve hardly travelled through,
          You fancy then, such wily snares are set,
          ’Tis difficult intrigues in Rome to get. 
          I’d have you know, we’ve creatures who devise,
          To horn their husbands under Argus’ eyes.