29. _A Nutmeg with a Blanke Parchment in it._ This Nutmeg holds a Blanke, but chance doth hide it: Write your owne wish, and Fortune will prouide it. 30. _Blanke._ Wot you not why Fortune giues you no prize, Good faith she saw you not, she wants her eyes. 31. _Blanke._ You are so dainty to be pleaz'd, God wot, Chance knowes not what to giue you for a Lot. 32. _Blanke._ Tis pitty such a hand should draw in vaine, Though it gaine nought, yet shall it pitty gaine. 33. _Blanke._ Nothing's your Lot, that's more then can be told, For nothing is more precious then gold. 34. _Blanke._ You faine would haue, but what, you cannot tell. In giuing nothing, Fortune serues you well. SIR I. D. (pp. 42-46.) IV. CANZONET. _A Hymne in Praise of Musicke._[173] [Footnote 173: See Introductory-Note to the first of these Minor Poems. I include this 'Canzonet' because originally it bore the initials of Davies' other pieces in the 'Rhapsody,' viz., I. D.--G.] Praise, pleasure, profite, is that threefold band, Which ties mens minds more fast then Gordions knots: Each one some drawes, all three none can withstand, Of force conioynd, Conquest is hardly got. Then Musicke may of hearts a Monarch be, Wherein prayse, pleasure, profite so agree. Praise-worthy Musicke is, for God it praiseth, And pleasant, for brute beasts therein delight, Great profit from it flowes, for why it raiseth The mind ouerwhelmed with rude passions might: When against reason passions fond rebell, Musicke doth that confirme, and those expell. If Musicke did not merit endlesse praise, Would heauenly Spheares delight in siluer round?[174] If ioyous pleasure were not in sweet layes Would they in Court and Country so abound? And profitable needes we must that call, Which pleasure linkt with praise, doth bring to all. [Footnote 174: Qu: sound? or it may be = their circular movement (supposed). G.] Heroicke minds with praises most incited, Seeke praise in Musicke and therein excell: God, man, beasts, birds, with Musicke are delighted, And pleasant t'is which pleaseth all so well: No greater profit is then self-content, And this will Musicke bring, and care preuent. When antique Poets Musick's praises tell, They say it beasts did please, and stones did moue: To proue more dull then stones, then beasts more fell, Those men which pleasing Musicke did not loue; They fain'd, it Cities built, and States defended To shew the profite great on it depended. Sweet birds (poor men's Musitians) neuer slake To sing sweet Musickes praises day and night: The dying Swans in Musicke pleasure take, To shew that it the dying can delight: In sicknesse, health, peace, warre, we do it need, Which proues sweet Musicks profit doth exceed.