Only page of title Fairly Difficult
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What liberty is mine-what sweet release
From clamorous strife, and yet what boisterous peace!
Ho! ho! it is thy fancy's finger-tip
That dints the dimple now, and kinks the lip
That scarce may sing, in all this glad increase
Of merriment! So, pray-thee, do not cease
To cheer me thus; -for, underneath the quip
Of thy droll sorcery, the wrangling fret
Of all distress is stilled-no syllable
Of sorrow vexeth me-no tear-drops wet
My teeming lids save those that leap to tell
Thee thou'st a guest that overweepeth, yet
Only because thou jokest overwell.
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