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.