Lucasta Laughing

Heark, how she laughs aloud, Although the world put on its shrowd: Wept at by the fantastic crowd, Who cry: one drop, let fall From her, might save the universal ball. She laughs again At our ridiculous pain; And at our merry misery She laughs, until she cry. Sages, forbear That ill-contrived tear, Although your fear Doth barricado hope from your soft ear. That which still makes her mirth to flow, Is our sinister-handed woe, Which downwards on its head doth go, And, ere that it is sown, doth grow. This makes her spleen contract, And her just pleasure feast: For the unjustest act Is still the pleasant'st jest.