Twelfth Humor

If laughter be the food of humor, giggle on;

Give me excess of it, that Googlish amount,

The ache from side-splitting laughter may weaken and grow serious.

That guffaw again, it rolls over dying when you fall;

O it came o'er my lips like the sweet sound

That bubbling, giggling delight of infants, 

Stealing our hearts, giving odor to our homes. Enough; no more.

'Tis not so sweet to laugh nonstopedness.

O spirit of humor, how quick and punny art thou,

That, notwithstanding thy badinage,

Receiveth a sea of tears. Sallies enters there,

Of what hilarity and amusement soe'er,

But falls into drollery and waggishness

Even in-a-gadda-da-vida. So full of itself,

That it alone is high 60s fantastical.