Shapes of Clay

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.