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."