Answ. Never, never, never, never,
Never till she finds a grave.
Enter Cornego.
Corn. No lesson, Madam, but Lacrymae's?[182] If you had buried nine husbands, so much water as you might squeeze out of an Onyon had been teares enow to cast away upon fellowes that cannot thanke you. Come, be joviall.
Onae. Sorrow becomes me best.
Corn. A suit of laugh and lye downe[183] would weare better.
Onae. What should I doe to be merry, Cornego?
Corn. Be not sad.
Onae. But what's the best mirth in the world?
Corn. Marry, this: to see much, say little, doe little, get little, spend little and want nothing.
Onae. Oh, but there is a mirth beyond all these:
This picture has so vex'd me I'me half mad.
To spite it therefore I'le sing any song
Thy selfe shalt tune: say then, what mirth is best?