The Tradesman and the Scholar. Anne Finch (née Kingsmill), countess of Winchilsea Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T94539 pp. 274-5 K076314.000 Winchilsea, Anne Kingsmill Finch, Countess of, 1661-1720. Miscellany poems, on several occasions: Written by the Right Honble Anne, Countess of Winchilsea. London printed for J. B. and sold by Benj. Tooke, William Taylor, and James Round 1713 pp. 204-208. [8],390p. ; 8⁰.

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The Tradesman and the Scholar . A Citizen of mighty Pelf , But much a Blockhead , in himself Disdain'd a Man of shining Parts , Master of Sciences and Arts , Who left his Book scarce once a day For sober Coffee , Smoak , or Tea ; Nor spent more Money in the Town Than bought , when need requir'd , a Gown ; Which way of Living much offends The Alderman , who gets and spends , And grudges him the Vital Air , Who drives no Trade , and takes no Care . Why Bookworm ! to him once he cry'd , Why , setting thus the World aside , Dost thou thy useless Time consume , Enclos'd within a lonely Room , And poring damnify thy Wit , 'Till not for Men , or Manners fit ? Hop'st thou , with urging of thy Vein , To spin a Fortune from thy Brain ? Or gain a Patron , that shall raise Thy solid State , for empty Praise ? No ; trust not to your Soothings vile , Receiv'd per me's the only Stile . Your Book's but frown'd on by My Lord ; If Mine's uncross'd , I reach his Board . In slighting Yours , he shuts his Hand ; Protracting Mine , devolves the Land . Then let Advantage be the Test , Which of us Two ev'n Writes the best . Besides , I often Scarlet wear , And strut to Church , just next the Mayor . Whilst rusty Black , with Inch of Band , Is all the Dress you understand ; Who in the Pulpit thresh to Please , Whilst I below can snore at Ease . Yet , if you prove me there a Sinner , I let you go without a Dinner . This Prate was so beneath the Sence Of One , who Wisdom cou'd dispense , Unheard , or unreturn'd it past : But War now lays the City waste , And plunder'd Goods profusely sell By length of Pike , not length of Ell . Abroad th' Inhabitants are forc'd , From Shops , and Trade , and Wealth divorc'd . The Student leaving but his Book , The Tumult of the Place forsook . In foreign Parts , One tells his Tale , How Rich he'd been , how quick his Sale , Which do's for scanty Alms prevail . The Chance of War whilst he deplores , And dines at Charitable Doors ; The Man of Letters , known by Fame , Was welcom'd , wheresoe'er he came . Still , Potentates entreat his Stay , Whose Coaches meet him on the Way : And Universities contest Which shall exceed , or use him best . Amaz'd the Burgomaster sees On Foot , and scorn'd such Turns as these ; And sighing , now deplores too late His cumb'rous Trash , and shallow Pate : Since loaded but with double Chest Of learned Head , and honest Breast , The Scholar moves from Place to Place , And finds in every Climate Grace . Wit and the Arts , on that Foundation rais'd , ( Howe'er the Vulgar are with Shows amaz'd ) Is all that recommends , or can be justly prais'd .