Rome for The Romantics: a Friday-to-Monday weekend

The room where Keats died at 25, his death mask, and the letters Severn wrote to Fanny Brawne; the window looks onto the Spanish Steps.

The ivy-covered lane of studios where Fellini lived and Gregory Peck parked the Vespa; look for the fountain of the artists halfway along.

A candlelit room on Via Margutta, the artists' lane, with a seasonal menu and a good wine list. Ask for a table by the window, or on the lane when it is mild.

Keats under 'writ in water', Shelley's heart, and Gramsci, all in the shadow of the Pyramid of Cestius; the cats run the place.

The orange garden at golden hour, then the keyhole of the Knights of Malta next door that frames St Peter's dome; the queue is short at dusk.

A tiny trattoria, carbonara and tonnarelli, and a queue for a table outside under the washing lines; put your name down and walk the river.

The road is closed to cars on Sunday: tombs, cypress, and the basalt worn by chariot wheels; walk as far as the Circus of Maxentius and turn back.

A near-empty park on the Celio with an Egyptian obelisk and the best bench in Rome for reading; the gate by the Navicella is the quiet one.

Candles and a gallery of paintings, the city's oldest vegetarian table; the tasting menu changes with the market and the room stays hushed.

A private palace still lived in by the family, with Velázquez's Innocent X staring you down; the audio guide is read by the heir.

Bramante's cloister of 1504, quiet on a Monday morning, with a café on the upper gallery and Raphael's Sibyls in the church next door.

Rome's most argued-over espresso, pre-sweetened unless you ask, drunk standing at the counter behind the Pantheon. Say amaro to skip the sugar.