Classic Poem

As oft, Sir Tradewel , as we meet,
You're sure to ask me in the street,
When you shall send your Boy to me,
To fetch my Book of Poetry.
And promise you'l but read it o're,
And faithfully the Loan restore:
But let me tell you as a Friend,
You need not take the pains to send:
'Tis a long way to where I dwell,
At farther end of Clarkenwel :
There in a garret near the Sky,
Above five pair of Stairs I lie.
But, if you'd have, what you pretend,
You may procure it nearer hand:
In Cornhil , where you often go,
Hard by th' Exchange , there is, you know,
A Shop of Rhime, where you may see
The Posts all clad in Poetry;
There H [ indmarsh ] lives of high renown,
The noted'st TORY in the Town:
Where, if you please, enquire for me,
And he, or's Prentice, presently,
From the next Shelf will reach you down
The Piece well bound for half a Crown:
The Price is much too dear , you cry,
To give for both the Book, and me:
Yes doubtless, for such vanities,
We know, Sir, you are too too wise.