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To his Brother Robert Davis, Barber-Chirurgeon of the City of London.
 
 



To his Brother Robert Davis, Barber-Chirurgeon of the City of London.

If thou canst set a Song to Instrument,
Take pains with this, it wil be time wel spent.
And though it may not disagree, but suite
With either Violl, Harpsecall or Lute;
Yet let it not be only set to such,
But tune thy heart hereto, and it will much
Delight thy sp'rits: what? though it doth not like
The eares of carnall men, who only strike,
And harp upon that Instrument call'd Base.
O! sing (with heart) Gods praises in thy place.
Bad matter ne're so truly plaid, is wrong,
Whatever others croke, sing thou this Song.
Written by your Brother, John Davis.