"While Tom his legal studies
Most soberly pursues,
Poor Ned must pass his mornings
A-dawdling with the Muse:
While Tom frequents his banker,
Young Ned frequents the Jews.

"Ned drives about in buggies,
Tom sometimes takes a 'bus;
Ah, cruel fate, why made you
My children differ thus?
Why make of Tom a dullard,
And Ned a genius!?"

"You'll cut him with a shilling,"

Exclaimed the man of wits:

"I'll leave my wealth," said Brentford, "Sir Lawyer, as befits; And portion both their fortunes Unto their several wits."

"Your Grace knows best," the lawyer said;

"On your commands I wait." "Be silent, Sir," says Brentford, A plague upon your prate! Come take your pen and paper, And write as I dictate.'

The will as Brentford spoke it
Was writ and signed and closed;
He bade the lawyer leave him,

And turn'd him round and dozed ; And next week in the churchyard

The good old King reposed.

Tom, dressed in crape and hatband,

Of mourners was the chief; In bitter self-upbraidings

Poor Edward showed his grief: Tom hid his fat white countenance In his pocket-handkerchief.