Chapter 5

The Carman's Whistle was a popular Elizabethan tune, and was arranged as a virginal lesson by Byrd. This arrangement can be had most readily in Litolff's publication, 'Les maîtres du Clavecin.'

The 'fancies' referred to above are the 'Fantazies' already remarked on (chest of viols); and the 'Goodnights' are songs _in memoriam_, or dirges.

'Fortune my foe.' [Appendix]. _Merry Wives_ III, iii, 62. _Falstaff_ (to Mrs Ford). 'I see what thou wert, if _Fortune thy foe_ were not, Nature thy friend.' This old tune is at latest of Elizabeth's time, and was sung to the ancient ballad of "Titus Andronicus." The first verse of 'Fortune my foe' is as follows:--

"Fortune my foe, why dost thou frown on me? And will thy favour never better be? Wilt thou, I say, for ever breed my pain, And wilt thou not restore my joyes again?"

'Ophelia's Songs.' _Hamlet_ IV, v. [Appendix]. 'How should I your true love know'; 'Good morrow, 'tis St Valentine's day'; 'They bore him barefaste'; 'Bonny sweet Robin'; 'And will he not come again.'

The one line of 'Bonny sweet Robin' is all that remains of the song, except the title, which is also the first line--viz., 'My Robin is to the greenwood gone.' The line Shakespeare gives would be the last. One tune to it is at any rate older than 1597.

Lastly, there are the old catches, 'Hold thy peace,' sung by Toby, Sir Andrew, and Feste in _Twelfth Night_ II, iii; 'Jack boy, ho boy, news, The cat is in the well,' etc., referred to by Grumio in _Shrew_ IV, i, 42; besides 'Flout 'em and scout em,' sung by Stephano, Trinculo, and Caliban in _Tempest_ III, ii; and 'What shall he have that killed the deer,' for the foresters in _As You Like It_ IV, ii, 5. The original music of the first two, probably much earlier than Shakespeare, is in the Appendix. A Round for four voices by John Hilton (flourished 1600) to 'What shall he have,' is probably the first setting, and may be seen in Rimbault, p. 19. Purcell (1675) set 'Flout 'em' as a catch for three voices, which is in Caulfield's Collection of Shakespeare Vocal Music, 1864. These last two are poor specimens of Catches, so they are not printed here. [The proper reading of 'Flout 'em,' in the 4tos and 1st Fol. is 'Flout 'em and _cout_ 'em! and _skowt_ 'em, and flout 'em! Thought is free.']

The following passage contains a large quantity of the history of songs in the 16th century, and is one of the most important to be found in Shakespeare. Autolycus sells ballads 'of all sizes' among his wares; the country folk, Mopsa, Dorcas, and the Clown, buy them, and afterwards sing them; and the rustic servant distinctly prefers the pedlar's vocalisation to their accustomed 'tabor and pipe,' or even to the 'bagpipe.'

_Winter's Tale_ IV, iii, 181.

_Servant._ O master! if you did but hear the _pedlar_ at the door, you would _never dance again after a tabor and pipe_; no, the _bagpipe_ could not move you. He _sings several tunes_ faster than you'll tell money; he utters them as he had _eaten ballads_, and all men's ears grew to his tunes.

_Clown._ He could never come better: he shall come in. _I love a ballad_ but even too well; if it be doleful matter, merrily set down, or a very pleasant thing indeed, and sung lamentably.

_Serv._ He hath _songs_, for man or woman, _of all sizes_.... He has the prettiest _love-songs_ for maids; so without bawdry, which is strange; with such _delicate burdens_ of "dildos" and "fadings," "jump her and thump her"; ... "_Whoop, do me no harm, good man._"

L. 212.

_Clo._ Pr'ythee, bring him in, and let him _approach singing_.

_Perdita._ Forewarn him, that he use _no scurrilous words_ in 's tunes.

L. 259.

_Clo._ [to Autolycus]. What hast here? _ballads_?

_Mopsa._ 'Pray now, buy some: I love a _ballad in print_, o' life, for _then we are sure they are true_.

_Autolycus._ Here's one to a _very doleful tune_ ... [of a usurer's wife].

L. 273.

_Clo._ Come on, lay it by: and let's first see _more ballads_....

_Aut._ Here's _another ballad, of a fish_, that ... sung this ballad against the hard hearts of maids: ... the ballad is _very pitiful_, and as true.

L. 285.

_Clo._ Lay it by too: another.

_Aut._ This is a _merry ballad_, but a _very pretty_ one.

_Mop._ Let's have some merry ones.

_Aut._ Why, this is a passing merry one, and _goes to the tune of_ "Two maids wooing a man," there's scarce a maid westward but she sings it: _'tis in request_, I can tell you.

_Mop._ We can _both_ sing it: if _thou'lt bear a part_ [_i.e._, Autolycus], thou shalt hear; 'tis in _three parts_.

_Dorcas._ We had the _tune_ on't a month ago.

_Aut._ _I can bear my part_; you must know, _'tis my occupation_: have at it with you.

[They sing 'Get you hence,' in three parts.]

_Clo._ We'll have the song out anon _by ourselves_.

L. 328.

_Servant._ Master, there is _three_ carters, _three_ shepherds, _three_ neat herds, _three_ swine herds, that have made themselves all _men of hair_: they call themselves _Saltiers_; and they have a _dance_, which the wenches say is a _gallimaufry_ of gambols, because they are not in't....

* * * * *

L. 609.

_Aut._ _My clown_ (who wants but something to be a reasonable man) grew so in love with the wenches' _song_, that he would not stir his pettitoes, _till he had both tune and words_.

The tabor and pipe, in the servant's first speech, were common popular instruments. The tabor, of course, was a small drum, which was used as accompaniment to the pipe, a small whistle with three holes, but with a compass of 18 notes. (See Frontispiece.) In its curiously disproportionate compass, it may be compared to the modern 'Picco' pipe of the music shops. Mersennus (middle of 17th century) mentions an Englishman, John Price, who was an accomplished player. It is played on by Ariel, see a subsequent quotation from _The Tempest_ III, ii, 126 and 152. Also _Much Ado_ II, iii, 13; and the tabor alone, in _Twelfth Night_ III, i.

The Bagpipe[17] was very similar to the instruments of that name which still exist. At the present moment there are four kinds in use--Highland Scotch, Lowland Scotch, Northumbrian, and Irish. The last has bellows instead of a 'bag,' but in other ways they are very much alike. They all have 'drones,' which sound a particular note or notes continually, while the tune is played on the 'chanter.' Shakespeare himself tells us of another variety--viz., the Lincolnshire bagpipe, in _Hen. 4. A._ I, ii, 76, where Falstaff compares his low spirits to the melancholy 'drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe.'[18]

[Footnote 17: The Bagpipe appears on a coin of Nero. Also there is a figure of an _angel_ playing it, in a crosier given by William of Wykeham to New Coll., Oxon., in 1403.]

[Footnote 18: What is a 'woollen bagpipe'? See _Merchant_ IV, i, 55.]

The servant's second speech refers to the character of the words of the popular ballads, which were too often coarse and even indecent.

'Love-songs' are quite a large class, frequently referred to. For instance, _Two Gent._ II, i, 15.

_Val._ Why, how know you that I am in love?

_Speed._ Marry by these special marks. First, you have learn'd ... _To relish a love song_, like a robin-redbreast;

_Rom._ II, iv, 15.

_Mercutio._ 'Alas, poor Romeo! he is already dead; ... run thorough the ear _with a love-song_.'

besides the passage from _Twelfth Nt._ II, iii, quoted further on, where Feste offers Sir Toby and Sir Andrew their choice between 'a love-song, or a song of good life.'

The 'delicate burdens,' 'dildos and fadings,' 'jump her and thump her,' are to be found in examples of the period. A Round of Matt. White, 'The Courtier scorns the country clowns' (date about 1600) has for its third and last line 'With a fading, fading, fading, fading,' etc. 'Whoop, do me no harm' has already been spoken of.

In l. 214 of the _Winter's Tale_ passage, Perdita again takes precaution against Autolycus using 'scurrilous words.'

From l. 285 to l. 327, the passage refers to a very interesting department of 16th century singing--viz., the habit of performing songs in three vocal parts. The singers were called Threeman-songmen, and the songs themselves 'Threeman songs,' or 'Freemen's Songs.' [_Freemen_ is simply a corruption of _Threemen_. Mr Aldis Wright tells me it is analogous to _Thills_ or _Fills_, for the shafts of a waggon. Rimbault, in the preface to 'Rounds, Canons, and Catches,' is highly indignant with Ritson's 'inconceivably strange notion' that Freemen is only a form of Threemen. Rimbault's reason was that 'Deuteromelia' (1609) does contain Freemen's Songs in _four_ parts. Mr Aldis Wright also gives me the expression '_six_-men's song,' from Percy's Reliques, also these definitions, which will all go to settle the matter: Florio, Italian Dictionary, 1611; _Strambotti_, country gigges, rounds, catches, virelaies or _threemen's songs_; _Cantarini_, such as sing _threemen's songs_; _Berlingozzo_.... Also a drunken or _threemen's song_.

Cotgrave, French Dict. 1611; Virelay. m. A virelay, round, _free_mans song].

Giraldus Cambrensis says that singing in parts was indigenous to the parts beyond the Humber, and on the borders of Yorkshire. Threeman singing may still be heard (not as an exotic), in Wales and the West of England. This last is referred to in the above passage, 'There's scarce a maid westward but she sings it'--viz., the song in three parts.

Shakespeare is strictly historical in making a pedlar, and two country lasses, capable of 'bearing a part' in a composition of this sort.

The company of 'men of hair,' calling themselves 'Saltiers,' may derive their name from the dance, 'Saltarello.' Gallimaufry is 'Galimathias,' a muddle, or hotch potch. (See _Merry Wives_ II, i, 115).

The threemansong men are more particularly described in _Winter's Tale_ IV, ii, 41.

_Clown._ She hath made me four-and-twenty nosegays for the _shearers; three-man song-men all, and very good ones_, but they are _most of them means and bases_; but _one Puritan_ amongst them, and he _sings psalms to hornpipes_.

These musical harvesters square closely with the account given in the Introduction, of music amongst the lower classes. Here were 24 good glee singers, with the single defect that their tenors were very weak, 'most of them means [altos] and basses.' The Puritan was most accommodating, and his singing the words of psalms to the tune of the hornpipe would tend to shew that the Old Adam was not all put away as yet. His compromise with his conscience reminds one of the old stories (all too true) of church singers in the 15th and 16th centuries, who would sing the by no means respectable words of popular comic ditties to the solemn strains of the mass 'l'homme armé,' or whatever well-known melody the music happened to be constructed on.

An example of a threemansong will be found in the Appendix, 'We be soldiers three.'

Shakespeare also alludes to _sacred_ part-music. Falstaff, by his own account, was a notable singer of Anthems, in which holy service he had lost his voice; he was familiar with members of the celebrated choir of St George's Chapel at Windsor; and was not above practising the metrical Psalmody in his sadder moments.

_H. 4. B._ I, ii, 182.

_Chief Justice._ Is not your _voice broken_, your wind short, your chin double, your wit single, and every part about you blasted with antiquity, and will you yet call yourself young? Fie, fie, fie, Sir John!

_Falstaff._ My lord.... For my _voice_, I have _lost it with_ hollaing, and _singing of anthems_.

_H. 4. B._ II, i, 88.

_Hostess._ Thou didst swear to me ... upon Wednesday in Wheeson week, when the prince broke thy head for liking his father to a _singing-man of Windsor_.

_Hen. 4. A._ II, iv, 137. Falstaff laments the degeneracy of the times.

_Fal._ There live not three good men unhanged in England, and one of them is fat, and grows old; God help the while! a bad world, I say. _I would I were a weaver; I could sing psalms or anything._

This last sentence connects curiously with Sir John Oldcastle, the leader of the Lollards, who were noted for their psalm singing, which indeed gave them the name. These Flemish Protestants, who had fled from the persecutions in their own country, were mostly _woollen_ manufacturers, and were distinguished for their love of Psalmody, throughout the western counties, where they settled. Hence the allusion to 'weavers' and 'Psalms.' But according to the Epilogue of _Hen. 4. B._, 'Oldcastle died a martyr, and _this is not the man_.'

Falstaff knew well what a Ballad was too--as the following shews:--

_Hen. 4. A._ II, ii, 43.

_Fal._ (to Hal.). Go hang thyself in thine own heir-apparent garters! If I be ta'en, I'll peach for this. An I have not _ballads made on you all_, and _sung to filthy tunes_, let a cup of sack be my poison.

Two other worthy knights claim our attention in the next quotation, which contains many interesting allusions. _Inter alia_; Sir Toby gives Feste sixpence to sing a song; Sir Andrew follows it up with a 'testril.' The Clown then sings them 'O mistress mine.' [For the original music see Prof. Bridge's 'Shakespeare Songs,' Novello, a collection which every reader of Shakespeare ought to have. Price 2s. 6d.] Then, at Sir Toby's suggestion, they all three sing a catch, or, in his own words, 'draw _three_ souls out of _one_ weaver,' an allusion to the _three_ vocal parts which are evolved from the _one_ melody of the catch, as well as a sly reference to 'weavers' singing catches. (See Introduction.) They sing 'Thou knave,' for which see the Appendix. It is not a good catch, but sounds humorous if done smartly, and perhaps its very roughness suits the circumstances. Next, after Maria's entrance, Toby either quotes the titles, or sings odd lines of four old songs [Appendix]; and when Malvolio comes in, furious with the noise they are making in the middle of the night, he applies precisely those epithets to their proceedings that our histories lead us to expect--_e.g._, 'gabbling like _tinkers_,' '_alehouse_,' squeaking out your '_cozier's_ catches' ['cozier' is 'cobbler']. Sir Toby's puns on 'keep time' in ll. 94 and 115 ought not to be missed. To 'keep time' is almost the only virtue a catch singer _must_ have.

_Tw._ II, iii, 18.

_Sir To._ Welcome, ass. Now _let's have a catch_.

_Sir And._ By my troth, the fool has an _excellent breast_. I had rather than forty shillings I had such a leg, and so _sweet a breath to sing_, as the fool has.

L. 30.

_Sir And._ Now, _a song_.

_Sir To._ Come on; there is _sixpence_ for you; let's have _a song_.

_Sir And._ There's a _testril_ of me too; if one knight give a----

_Clown._ Would you have a _love-song_, or a _song of good life_?

_Sir To._ A love-song, a love-song.

_Sir And._ Ay, ay; I care not for good life.

[_Clown_ sings 'O mistress mine.']

_Sir And._ A mellifluous voice, as I am true knight.

_Sir To._ A contagious breath.

_Sir And._ Very sweet and contagious, i'faith.

_Sir To._ To _hear by the nose_, it is _dulcet in contagion_. But shall we make the welkin dance indeed? Shall we rouse the night-owl in a _catch_, that will _draw three souls out of one weaver_? Shall we do that?

_Sir And._ An you love me, let's do't: I am _dog at a catch_.

_Clo._ By'r lady, sir, and _some dogs_ will _catch well_.

_Sir And._ Most certain. Let our _catch_ be, "Thou Knave."

_Clo._ "Hold thy peace, thou knave," knight? I shall be constrained to _call thee knave_, knight.

_Sir And._ 'Tis not the first time I have constrained one to call me knave. _Begin_, fool: it begins, "_Hold thy peace_."

_Clo._ I shall never begin, if I hold my peace.

_Sir And._ Good, i'faith. Come, begin.

[_They sing a catch._]

_Enter_ MARIA.

_Mar._ What a caterwauling do you keep here!

* * * * *

_Sir To._ My lady's a Cataian; we are politicians; Malvolio's a Peg-a-Ramsey, and "_Three merry men be we_."... _Tilly-valley_, lady! [_Sings._] "There dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady!"

* * * * *

_Sir To._ [_Sings._] "O! the twelfth day of December."----

_Mar._ For the love o'God, peace!

_Enter_ MALVOLIO.

_Mal._ My masters, are you mad? or what are you? Have you no wit, manners, nor honesty, but to _gabble like tinkers_ at this time of night? Do ye make an _alehouse_ of my lady's house, that ye squeak out your _cozier's catches_ without any mitigation or remorse of voice? Is there no respect of place, persons, or _time_ in you?

_Sir To._ _We did keep time, sir, in our catches._ Sneck up!

L. 103-114, another song, "Farewell, dear heart" [Appendix].

It is perhaps necessary to explain the nature of a Catch, or Round, more clearly. The two names were interchangeable in the 16th and 17th centuries. It was not till quite modern times that 'Catch' implied a necessary quibble in the words, deliberately arranged by the writer. First, a Catch or Round of the best type of Elizabethan times consisted of _one melody_, generally perfectly continuous. Secondly, the said melody was always divisible into a certain number of _equal sections_, varying from three to six, or even eight; and as many sections as there were, so many voices were necessary. Thirdly, each of these equal sections was deliberately arranged so as to make _Harmony_ with every other.

Here are the words of a Round of the 17th century, which is divisible into three equal sections, and therefore is sung by three voices.

1. 'Cuckoo! Hark! how he sings to us. 2. Good news the cuckoo brings to us; 3. Spring is here, says the cuckoo.'

Now, the way for three persons, A, B, and C, to sing this Catch or Round, is as follows:--

A begins [see above, line 69, '_Begin_, fool'] line 1, and immediately proceeds to line 2; at this very instant, B in his turn begins line 1, and acts similarly. When A has reached the first syllable in line 3, and B is at 'Good' in line 2, it is time for C also to begin at line 1. As soon as A has finished line 3, he begins again; and so on with the others--'round' and 'round' till they are tired of 'catching' each other up.

Thus when they are all three fairly set going, their _one_ melody produces _three part_ harmony, and the catchers have drawn 'three souls out of one weaver.'

The principle in all other Catches or Rounds is exactly the same, however great the number of parts.

In the following we have another case of catch-singing. The original music of 'Flout 'em' has not come down to us.

_Tempest_ III, ii, 122.

_Stephano._ Come on, Trinculo, _let us sing_.

[They sing a _catch_, 'Flout 'em and scout 'em.']

_Caliban._ That's not the tune. [Very likely, as they were tipsy.]

[ARIEL _plays the tune on a tabor and pipe_.]

_Ste._ What is this same?

_Trin._ This is the _tune of our catch_, played by the picture of Nobody.

* * * * *

L. 136.

_Cal._ Be not afeard; the isle is _full of noises_, _Sounds_, and _sweet airs_, that give delight, and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand _twangling instruments_ Will hum about mine ears; and sometime _voices_, &c.

_Ste._ This will prove a brave kingdom to me, where I _shall have my music for nothing_.

L. 152.

I would, I could _see_ this taborer: [Ariel] he _lays it on_.

Also _Id._ III, ii, 119.

Stephano, like most of the scamps in Shakespeare, is a good musician. He leads the catch, appreciates Ariel's tabor playing (l. 152), and is overjoyed to think that he will have all his music 'for nothing' (l. 145) in the magical isle.

Finally, in the _Taming of the Shrew_, we have the title of another old catch, of which the music has survived--viz., 'Jack, boy.'

_Shrew_ IV, i, 42.

_Curtis._ Therefore, good Grumio, the _news_.

_Grumio._ Why, "_Jack, boy! ho, boy!_" and as much _news_ as thou wilt.

The words of this catch, which takes four voices, are--

'Jack, boy, ho! boy, news; The cat is in the well, Let us ring now for her knell, Ding, dong, ding, dong, bell.'

The music [see Appendix], like that of so many other catches, is anonymous, and is of some date long before Shakespeare.

_As You_ V, iii, 7.

_Touchstone._ By my troth, well met. Come, sit, sit, and a _song_.

_2 Page._ We are for you; sit i' the middle.

_1 Page._ Shall we _clap into 't roundly, without hawking, or spitting_, or _saying we are hoarse_, which are the _only prologues to a bad voice_?

_2 Page._ I' faith, i' faith; and _both in a tune_, like two gipsies on a horse.

[Song follows, 'It was a lover.' Could be sung as a _two_-part madrigal quite easily. See Bridge's 'Shakespeare Songs,' for Morley's original setting.]

_Touch._ Truly, young gentlemen, though there was no great matter in the ditty, yet the _note_ was very _untuneable_.

_1 Page._ You are deceived, sir; _we kept time_; we _lost not our time_.

_Touch._ By my troth, _yes_; I count it but _time lost_ to hear such a foolish song. God be wi' you; and _God mend your voices_. Come, Audrey.

The First Page's speech at l. 9. is most humorously appropriate. 'Both in a tune, like two gipsies on a horse,' is a quaint description of a duet. There is yet another pun on 'lost time' in ll. 36-8.

Jaques' cynicism comes out even in his limited dealings with music.

_As You_ IV, ii, 5.

_Jaques._ Have you no _song_, forester, for this purpose?

_2 Lord._ Yes, sir.

_Jaq._ Sing it; _'tis no matter how it be in tune, so it make noise enough_.

Song follows, 'What shall he have, that kill'd the deer,' Rimbault, p. 19. Music by Hilton, date about 1600, probably the original setting, a Round for four foresters.

This section will conclude with two quotations about singing of a more serious turn.

_Tw._ II, iv, 1.

_Duke._ _Give me some music._--Now, good morrow, friends. Now, good Cesario, but that _piece of song_, That _old and antique song_, we heard last night; Methought, it did relieve my passion much, More than _light airs_, ... Come; but _one verse_.

_Curio._ He is not here, so please your lordship, that should sing it.

_Duke._ Who was it?

_Cur._ Feste, the jester, my lord: ...

_Duke._ Seek him out, and _play the tune the while_.

L. 20.

[To Cesario]--How dost thou like _this tune_?

_Viola._ _It gives a very echo_ to the seat Where love is thron'd.

L. 43.

_Duke._ Mark it, Cesario; _it is old, and plain_;

[_Clown_ sings 'Come away, death.']

L. 67.

_Duke._ There's for thy pains.

_Clo._ _No pains, sir; I take pleasure in singing, sir._

_Duke._ I'll pay thy pleasure then.

'Light airs' in line 5 means 'vain fiddling jigs'--_i.e._, lively instrumental music. Lines 20-22 and 43 are worth remembering for many reasons.

The next and last passage requires no remark, except that 'organ pipe of frailty' means simply the voice of the dying king.

_King John_ V, vii, 10. Death of K. John.

_Prince Henry._ Doth he still rage?

_Pembroke._ He is more patient Than when you left him: _even now he sung_.

_P. Hen._ _O vanity of sickness!..._ ... 'Tis _strange that death should sing_. I am the _cygnet_ to this pale faint _swan_, Who _chants a doleful hymn_ to his own death, And, from the _organ-pipe of frailty_, sings His soul and body to their lasting rest.

IV

SERENADES AND 'MUSIC'