And wand'ring long the world about,
Some new religion to find out,
Turn Infidel or Atheist.

We have been told much of the suspicious temper of Venetian laws; and
have heard often that every discourse is suffered, except such as tends
to political conversation, in this city; and that whatever nobleman,
native of Venice, is seen speaking familiarly with a foreign minister,
runs a risque of punishments too terrible to be thought on.

How far that manner of proceeding may be wise or just, I know not;
certain it is that they have preserved their laws inviolate, their city
unattempted, and their republic respectable, through all the concussions
that have shaken the rest of Europe. Surrounded by envious powers, it
becomes them to be vigilant; conscious of the value of their unconquered
state, it is no wonder that they love her; and surely the true _Amor
Patriæ_ never glowed more warmly in old Roman bosoms than in theirs, who
draw, as many families here do, their pedigree from the consuls of the
Commonwealth. Love without jealousy is seldom to be met with, especially
in these warm climates--let us then permit them to be jealous of a
constitution which all the other states of Italy look on with envy not
unmixed with malice, and propagate strange stories to its disadvantage.

That suspicion should be concealed under the mask of gaiety is neither
very new nor very strange: the reign of our Charles the Second was
equally famous for plots, perjuries, and cruel chastisements, as for
wanton levity and indecent frolics: but here at Venice there are no
unpermitted frolics; her rulers love to see her gay and cheerful; they
are the fathers of their country, and if they _indulge_, take care not
to _spoil_ her.