If, in seeking the Convent of the Neophytes, or the house of Lucrezia Borgia, you miss your way among those foul narrow streets, you will find yourself in the midst of a strange medley of thieves, sharpers, guitar-players, artists' models, beggars, _ciceroni_, and _ruffiani_.

If you speak to them, you may be sure they will kiss your Excellency's hand, and pick your Excellency's pocket.

I do not think a worse breed is to be found in any city in Europe, not even in London.

All these people _practise_ religion, without the least believing in God.

The police does not meddle much with them.