English poem
THE BROTHERS.
by Ambrose Bierce (1842–1914)
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.