Epigram On Two Sisters Who Are Always Quarrelling

Pale is Amelia's face, And red Lavinia's nose is; The sisters ever jar: 'Tis like the civil war Between the rival roses. *        *        *        *        * On that dark theme, man's genealogy, How strangely people's notions disagree!— Sir Snub-nose, growling, swears that he can trace Strong kindred likeness to the monkey-race:— My Lady Graceful smiles, well-pleased, to find Far more resemblance to the Angelic-kind:— Sure the reflection from their looking-glasses Into their minds,—to prompt opinion—passes. Would-be philosophers have tried to scan The pedigree of that odd creature, man. 'We are of monkey-race!' Sir Snub-nose cries. Your strange assertion strikes me with surprise; (I, for my part, the compliment decline)— But do you, Sir, sincerely thus opine? 'I do indeed: nay more, I'm sure 'tis true!' Is't possible?—Yet, when I look on you,— I, verily, begin to think so too. *        *        *        *        * 'Oh! Doctor! I've had such a headache—so bad! I was fearful I should have gone out of my senses.' "I should not have wonder'd, dear Ma'am, if you had, You'd not have to go far to leap over those fences."