Scene-_A lawyer's dreadful den.
Enter stall-fed citizen.

LAWYER.-'Mornin'. How-de-do?

CITIZEN.-Sir, same to you.
Called as counsel to retain you
In a case that I'll explain you.
Sad, _so_ sad! Heart almost broke.
Hang it! where's my kerchief? Smoke?
Brother, sir, and I, of late,
Came into a large estate.
Brother's-h'm, ha,-rather queer
Sometimes _(tapping forehead) _here.
What he needs-you know-a 'writ'-
Something, eh? that will permit
Me to manage, sir, in fine,
His estate, as well as mine.
'Course he'll _kick_; 't will break, I fear,
His loving heart-excuse this tear.

LAWYER.-Have you nothing more?
All of this you said before-
When last night I took your case.

CITIZEN.-Why, sir, your face
Ne'er before has met my view!

LAWYER.-Eh? The devil! True:
My mistake-it was your brother.
But you're very like each other.

More verses by Ambrose Bierce