[Footnote 16: It was the German clavichord that had 'tangents' of brass at the ends of the key levers. These tangents cut off the proper length of the string, and made it sound at the same time. The Italians called an instrument with a 'jack' action like the virginal by the name clavichord.]

The last three lines quoted mention 'solfa' and 'fayne.' The latter is 'feigned' music, or Musica Ficta, which at this time was the art of dislocating the 'Mi,' so as to change the key. It was seldom that more than one flat was found in those days, and this would move the Mi from B to E, thus constituting 'fayned' music.

This account will give a general idea of the kind of songs and singing that were to be found in 1500.

Popular songs, 'Rotybulle Joyse,' with a burden of 'Rumbill downe, tumbill downe,' etc., accompanied by a 'lewde lewte'; clavichord playing; solfaing; singing of both 'prick-' and 'plain-' song, with Musica Ficta; besides the delectable art of 'whysteling'; seem to have been matters in ordinary practice at the beginning of the 16th century. Add to these the songs in three parts, with rounds or catches for several voices, and we have no mean list of musicianly accomplishments, which the men of Shakespeare's day might inherit.

In Shakespeare, besides the songs most commonly known (some of which are by earlier authors), there are allusions to many kinds of vocal music, and scraps of the actual words of old songs—some with accompaniment, some without; a duet; a trio; a chorus; not to mention several rounds, either quoted or alluded to.

It will be useful here to refer to a few of these less known examples.

L.L.L. I, ii, 106. The Ballad of 'The King and the Beggar.' Moth says "The world was very guilty of such a ballad some three ages since; but I think now 'tis not to be found; or, if it were, it would neither serve for the writing, nor the tune."

Id. III, i, 2. Moth begins a song 'Concolinel,' which Armado calls a 'sweet air.'

Various snatches of ballads, ancient and modern—e.g.,

(a) By Falstaff. H. 4. B. II, iv, 32, 'When Arthur first in court began,' 'And was a worthy king.'

(b) By Master Silence. H. 4. B. V, iii, 18. 'Do nothing but eat, and make good cheer,' etc.; 'Be merry, be merry, my wife has all,' etc.; 'A cup of wine, that's brisk and fine,' etc. 'Fill the cup, and let it come,' etc.; 'Do me right, And dub me knight,' etc.; 'and Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John.'

(c) By Benedick, Much Ado V, ii, 23. 'The god of love.'

(d) The old tune 'Light o' love' [see Appendix], the original words of which are unknown. Much Ado III, iv, 41, 'Clap us into "Light o' love;" that goes without a burden; do you sing it, and I'll dance it.' Here is one verse of 'A very proper Dittie,' to the tune of "Lightie Love" (date 1570).

"By force I am fixed my fancie to write, Ingratitude willeth me not to refrain: Then blame me not, Ladies, although I indite What lighty love now amongst you doth rayne, Your traces in places, with outward allurements, Dothe moove my endevour to be the more playne: Your nicyngs and tycings, with sundrie procurements, To publish your lightie love doth me constraine."

There were several songs of the 16th century that went to this tune. See also Shakespeare, Gent. I, ii, 80, and Fletcher, Two Noble Kinsmen V, ii, 54.

(e) Song by Parson Evans, Wiv. III, i, 18; 'To shallow rivers,' for words of which see Marlowe's 'Come live with me,' printed in the 'Passionate Pilgrim,' Part xx. [see tunes in Appendix]. Sir Hugh is in a state of nervous excitement, and the word 'rivers' brings 'Babylon' into his head, so he goes on mixing up a portion of the version of Ps. cxxxvii. with Marlowe.

(f) By Sir Toby. Tw. Nt. II, iii, 79, 85, 102. Peg-a-Ramsey, 'Three merry men be we,' 'There dwelt a man in Babylon,' 'O! the twelfth day of December,' 'Farewell, dear heart.' [For tunes, see Appendix].

(g) As You Like It II, v. Song with Chorus, 'Under the greenwood tree,' 2nd verse 'all together here.'

(h) By Pandarus, Troil. III, i, 116. Song, 'Love, love, nothing but love,' accompanied on an 'instrument' by the singer himself.

(i) Another, Id. IV, iv, 14, 'O heart, heavy heart.'

(j) Lear I, iv, 168, two verses sung by the Fool, 'Fools had ne'er less grace in a year.'

(k) Ballads by Autolycus, Winter's Tale IV, ii, 1, 15. 'When daffodils,' 'But shall I go mourn for that.' Id. sc. ii. end, 'Jog on' [see Appendix]; Id. sc. iii. 198, 'Whoop, do me no harm, good man' [Appendix]; Id. l. 219, 'Lawn, as white as driven snow'; Id. l. 262, Ballad of the 'Usurer's wife,' to a 'very doleful tune'; Id. l. 275, Ballad of a Fish, 'very pitiful'; Id. l. 297, A song in three parts, to the tune of 'Two maids wooing a man,' "Get you hence, for I must go"; Id. l. 319, Song, 'Will you buy any tape' (cf. The round by Jenkins, b. 1592, 'Come, pretty maidens,' see Rimbault's Rounds, Canons, and Catches).

(l) Duet by King Cymbeline's two sons; Funeral Song over Imogen, Cymb. IV, ii, 258, 'Fear no more the heat of the sun.'

(m) Stephano's 'scurvy tunes,' Temp. II, ii, 41, 'I shall no more to sea,' 'The master, the swabber,' etc. [Appendix]. Id. l. 175, Caliban's Song, 'Farewell, master,' etc.

(n) Song accompanied by lute. H. 8. III, i. 'Orpheus.'

Besides these there are allusions to the names of various popular tunes and catches, of which the music is still to be had. Amongst these are—

'The Hunt is up' [Appendix]. See Rom. and Jul. III, v, 34. Juliet says of the lark's song, 'that voice doth us affray, Hunting thee hence with hunts-up to the day.' Any rousing morning song, even a love-song, was called a hunts-up. The tune of this song was also sung (in 1584) to 'O sweete Olyver, leave me not behind the,' but altering the time to 4 in a bar. See As You Like It III, iii, 95.

'Heart's ease' [Appendix], the words of which are not known. Tune before 1560. See Romeo IV, v, 100.

Id., 'My heart is full of woe.'

Id. l. 125. 'When griping grief' [Appendix], by Richard Edwards, gentleman of Queen Elizabeth's Chapel, printed in the 'Paradyse of daynty Devises' (printed 1577). Hawkins gives four verses, the first of which is here quoted by Shakespeare, but with several variations—

'Where griping grief the hart would wound, And doleful domps the mind oppresse, There Musick with her silver sound Is wont with spede to give redresse; Of troubled minds, for every sore, Swete Musick hath a salve in store.'

The last verse is charming—

'Oh heavenly gift, that turnes the minde, Like as the sterne doth rule the ship, Of musick whom the Gods assignde, To comfort man whom cares would nip; Sith thou both man and beast doest move, What wise man then will thee reprove.'

'Green Sleeves' [Appendix].

Wiv. II, i, 60.

Mrs Ford. ... I would have sworn his disposition [Falstaff's] would have gone to the truth of his words; but they do no more adhere and keep place together, than the Hundredth Psalm to the tune of 'Green Sleeves.'

Also see Wiv. V, v, 20. The tune is given in its most complete form by Chappell, and is probably of Henry VIII.'s time. The ballad was published in 1580, with title, 'A new Northerne dittye of the Ladye Greene Sleeves.' Verse 1 is as follows:—

"Alas my love, you do me wrong To cast me off discourteously, And I have loved you so long, Delighting in your company. Greensleeves was all my joy, Greensleeves was my delight, Greensleeves was my heart of gold, And who but my Lady Greensleeves."

The 'Hundredth Psalm' (All people that on earth do dwell) will only adhere and keep place with the tune of Green Sleeves to a certain extent. If the reader will try to sing it to the tune in the Appendix, he will find that in the first half he is led into several false accents; while the second half is quite unmanageable without altering the notes. There is, however, a form of the tune in Hawkins which is much further off 'the truth of the words,' for it has exactly the right quantity of notes, but the accents are all as wrong as possible, thus—

[Transcriber's Note: In the passage below, "u" represents a breve and "-" a macron.]

- u - u - u - All peo-ple that on earth do

u u u u u u - u - Dwell sing to the Lord with cheerful voice.

It may be that this form of 'Green Sleeves' was known better than the older one in Shakespeare's day.

'Carman's whistle' [Appendix].

H. 4. B. III, ii, 320. Falstaff soliloquises on Shallow's lies concerning his wild youth.

Fal. He (Shallow) came ever in the rearward of the fashion, and sung those tunes ... that he heard the carmen whistle, and sware—they were his fancies, or his goodnights.... The case of a treble hautboy was a mansion for him, a court.

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 maitres 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, freemans 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 arme,' 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'

The history of Serenades is as ancient as that of Songs. In the middle of the 15th century, Sebastian Brant, a lawyer, wrote in Dutch his 'Stultifera Navis,' or 'Ship of Fools,' a severe satire on things in general, and popular amusements in particular. The book was afterwards translated into Latin, and thence into English. Here are some of the verses that treat of Serenades in the year 1450.

'The furies fearful, sprong of the floudes of hell, Bereft these vagabonds in their minds, so That by no meane can they abide ne dwell Within their houses, but out they nede must go; More wildly wandring then either bucke or doe. Some with their harpes, another with their lute, Another with his bagpipe, or a foolishe flute.

'Then measure they their songes of melody Before the doores of their lemman deare; Howling with their foolishe songe and cry, So that their lemman may their great folly heare: 'But yet moreover these fooles are so unwise, That in cold winter they use the same madness. When all the houses are lade with snowe and yse, O madmen amased, unstable, and witless! What pleasure take you in this your foolishness? What joy have ye to wander thus by night, Save that ill doers alway hate the light?'

Another verse explains that not only the foolish young men of low birth were given to this practice, but also—

'States themselves therein abuse,' 'With some yonge fooles of the spiritualtie: The foolish pipe without all gravitie Doth eche degree call to his frantic game: The darkness of night expelleth feare of shame.'

Brant had no great opinion of the music provided either. He describes their singing before their lady's window—

'One barketh, another bleateth like a shepe; Some rore, some counter, some their ballads fayne: Another from singing geveth himself to wepe; When his soveraigne lady hath of him disdayne.'

Finally—a Parthian shot—

'Standing in corners like as it were a spye, Whether that the wether be whot, colde, wet, or dry.'

Thus, one hundred years before Shakespeare was born, Serenades of voices and instruments were common, and in general practice by all classes of young men, and not only laymen, but also yonge fooles of the spiritualtie.

The instruments mentioned are such as were still in use in Shakespeare's time—viz., harp, lute, 'foolish' pipe, bagpipe, and 'foolish' flute, besides the several varieties of song, which evidently included both solo and part singing—'feigned' ballads for a single voice [ballads, that is, in the more refined 'keys' of 'Musica Ficta'], and 'Countering,' which implies that two voices at least took part.

The following passage is an example of this nocturnal serenading by a company of gentlemen.

Two Gent. III, ii, 83.

Proteus (advises Thurio) 'Visit by night your lady's chamber window With some sweet concert: to their instruments Tune a deploring dump:'

Thu. And thy advice this night I'll put in practice. Therefore, sweet Proteus, my direction-giver, Let us into the city presently, To sort some gentlemen well skilled in music.

Proteus advises Thurio to get a 'consort' (probably of viols) to play a 'dump' under Silvia's window. He goes to arrange for some of his friends to attend for this purpose. The serenade takes place in the next Act, where, in the 2nd scene, line 17, it is called 'evening music,' but does not include the 'dump,' for Thurio has 'a sonnet that will serve the turn,' so they sing 'Who is Silvia.'

Here is the passage, which is full of quibbles on musical terms.

Two Gent. IV, ii, 16.

Proteus. ... 'Now must we to her window, And give some evening music to her ear.'

L. 24.

Thu. ... Now, gentlemen, Let's tune.

L. 28.

Host (to Julia, in boy's clothes). I'll bring you where you shall hear music, and see the gentleman that you ask'd for.

Jul. But shall I hear him speak?

Host. Ay, that you shall.

Jul. That will be music.

L. 54.

Host. How do you, man? (i.e., Julia) the music likes you not.

Jul. You mistake: the musician (i.e., Proteus) likes me not.

Host. Why, my pretty youth?

Jul. He plays false, father.

Host. How? out of tune on the strings?

Jul. Not so; but yet so false, that he grieves my very heart-strings.

Host. You have a quick ear.

Jul. Ay; I would I were deaf! it makes me have a slow heart.

Host. I perceive, you delight not in music.

Jul. Not a whit, when it jars so.

Host. Hark! what fine change is in the music.

Jul. Ay, that change (Proteus' unfaithfulness) is the spite.

Host (misunderstanding again). You would have them always play but one thing?

Jul. I would always have one (Proteus) play but one thing.

L. 85.

Silvia (from window). 'I thank you for your music, gentlemen.'

The next passage is of a serenade in the early morning. Cloten arranges for the musicians (who seem in this case to be professional players) to give two pieces, one instrumental, followed by a song.

Cymbeline II, iii, 11. Cloten serenades Imogen.

Cloten. I would this music would come. I am advised to give her music o' mornings; they say, it will penetrate.

Enter Musicians.

Come on: tune. If you can penetrate her with your fingering, so; we'll try with tongue too: ... First, a very excellent good-conceited thing; after, a wonderful sweet air, with admirable rich words to it,—and then let her consider.

[The musicians perform 'Hark! hark! the lark.']

So, get you gone. If this penetrate, I will consider your music the better; if it do not, it is a vice in her ears, which horse-hairs, and calves'-guts, ... can never amend.

In l. 14, 'fingering' and 'tongue' correspond to 'playing' and 'singing.' The first is to be a 'Fancy' for viols, 'a very excellent good-conceited thing'; the second is the 'wonderful sweet air,' Hark! hark! the lark.

'Good-conceited' means having many 'conceits.' These 'fancies' were always contrapuntal, and the various artificial contrivances, answering of points, imitations, and what not, are referred to under this title. The mention of 'horse-hairs and calves'-guts' makes it clear that the instruments in this 'morning music' were Viols.

Another 'evening music' is provided by Pericles, Prince of Tyre.

Pericles II, v, 24. Pericles, a musician [his education had been 'in arts and arms,' see II, iii, 82].

Per. All fortune to the good Simonides!

Sim. To you as much, sir! I am beholding to you For your sweet music this last night: I do Protest, my ears were never better fed With such delightful pleasing harmony.

Per. It is your grace's pleasure to commend, Not my desert.

Sim. Sir, you are music's master.

Per. The worst of all her scholars, my good lord.

The next quotation is also of 'morning music,' but with a different object—not a lady, but a soldier, and of a somewhat rough and ready kind, to judge by the Clown's critical remarks.

The passage seems to indicate the use of Bagpipes; for 'they speak in the nose' (see Merchant IV, i, 48), and are called wind-instruments, and are mentioned under the name 'pipes' in the last two lines. Moreover, there is the remark of the Clown, represented here by stars, which is terribly appropriate to that instrument.

Othello III, i. Cassio brings musicians to salute Othello.

Cass. Masters, play here; I will content your pains: Something that's brief; and bid "Good morrow, general."

[Music.]

Enter Clown.

Clo. Why, masters, have your instruments been in Naples, that they speak i' the nose thus?

1 Mus. How, sir, how?

Clo. Are these, I pray you, called wind-instruments?

1 Mus. Ay, marry, are they, sir.

* * * * *

Clo. ... masters, here's money for you; and the general so likes your music, that he desires you, for love's sake, to make no more noise with it.

1 Mus. Well, sir, we will not.

Clo. If you have any music that may not be heard, to't again; but, as they say, to hear music the general does not greatly care.

1 Mus. We have none such, sir.

Clo. Then put up your pipes in your bag, for I'll away. Go; vanish into air, away!

Pandarus appears to be a capital musician. In the following we find him questioning a musical servant of Priam's palace about some instrumental music which is going on within, 'at the request of Paris.' The servant amuses himself by giving 'cross' answers to Pandarus' crooked questions, and in the process gets out two or three musical jokes—e.g., 'partly know,' 'music in parts,' 'wholly, sir.' Further on, Paris also plays on the term 'broken' music.

Troilus and Cressida III, i, 19.

Pandarus. What music is this?

Servant. I do but partly know, sir; it is music in parts.

Pandarus. Know you the musicians?

Serv. Wholly, sir.

Pan. Who play they to?

Serv. To the hearers, sir.

Pan. At whose pleasure, friend?

Serv. At mine, sir, and theirs that love music.

* * * * *

L. 52.

Pan. Fair prince, here is good broken music.

Paris. You have broke it, cousin; and, by my life, you shall make it whole again: you shall piece it out with a piece of your performance. [To Helen] Nell, he [Pandarus] is full of harmony.

* * * * *

L. 95.

Pan. ... Come, give me an instrument. [And at Helen's request, Pandarus sings, 'Love, love, nothing but love.']

The custom of having instrumental music in taverns has already been referred to in the Introduction, near the end, where we learn that the charge for playing before the guests was twenty shillings for two hours in Shakespeare's time; also that a man could hardly go into a public house of entertainment without being followed by two or three itinerant musicians, who would either sing or play for his pleasure, while he was at dinner. Accordingly, we find Sir John Falstaff enjoying such a performance at the Boar's Head, Eastcheap.

H. 4. B. II, iv, 10.

1 Drawer. Why then, cover, and set them down: and see if thou canst find out Sneak's noise; Mistress Tearsheet would fain have some music. (After supper, in a cooler room.)

Id. l. 227.

Page. The music is come, sir.

Falstaff. Let them play.—— Play, sirs.

Id. l. 380.

Fal. Pay the musicians, sirrah.

The term 'Sneak's noise' is most interesting. 'Noise' means a company of musicians, and Mr Sneak was the gentleman who gave his name to the particular band of instrumentalists who favoured the Boar's Head.

Milton uses the word, in this sense, in the poem 'At a Solemn Music,' where the 'saintly shout' of the seraphic choir, with 'loud uplifted angel-trumpets,' 'immortal harps of golden wires,' and the singing of psalms and hymns, are collectively called 'that melodious noise.' Also in his Hymn on the Nativity, verse ix., he has 'stringed noise'—i.e., band of stringed instruments. The Prayer-book Version (Great Bible) of the Psalms, which was made in 1540, has the word in Ps. lxxxi. 1, 'Make a cheerful noise unto the God of Jacob,' and this in the next verses is said to consist of various musical instruments—e.g., the tabret, harp, lute, and trumpet. Also in the Authorised Version of 1611, Ps. xxxiii. 3, 'play skilfully with a loud noise,' which was the instrumental accompaniment to a 'new song.' The same word is used in several other places, with the meaning of 'music'—e.g., Pss. lxvi. 1; xcv. 1, 2; xcviii. 4, 6; c. 1; where 'to make a joyful noise' is represented in the original by the same verb, except in one of the two cases in Ps. xcviii. 4.

The word was still in use in 1680, when Dr Plot was present at the annual Bull-running held by the Minstrels of Tutbury, one of the features of which festivity was a banquet, with 'a Noise of musicians playing to them.'

The reputed cure of the Tarantula's bite by music has already been mentioned. The next three examples are of somewhat similar cases.

In the first, Henry IV. in sickness asks for music; the second is an account of Cerimon's attempt to rouse the half-drowned Thaisa with at least partial assistance from music; while the third represents Prospero using a solemn air to remove the magic spell which he had cast on Alonso and his other enemies.

H. 4. B. IV, iv, 133. K. Hen. on his sick-bed.

K. Hen. Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends; Unless some dull and favourable hand Will whisper music to my wearied spirit.

Warwick. Call for the music in the other room.

Pericles III, ii, 87. Cerimon's house at Ephesus. Thaisa, cast up by the sea, is brought to life by his directions.

Cerimon. Well said, well said; the fire and the cloths. The rough and woful music that we have, Cause it to sound, beseech you. The vial once more;—how thou stirr'st, thou block!— The music there! I pray you, give her air.

Tempest V, i, 51. Prospero employs music to disenchant Alonso, Antonio, etc.

Pro. ... and, when I have required Some heavenly music (which even now I do), To work mine end upon their senses....

L. 58.

A solemn air; and the best comforter To an unsettled fancy, cure thy brains.

Next we have two examples of 'Music at Home.' In the case of the Duke in Twelfth Night, it is 'concerted' music, and the players seem to be performing such a quaint old piece as 'The Lord of Salisbury his Pavin,' by Gibbons, in Parthenia, the last 'strain' of which has just such a 'dying fall' as is mentioned in line 4. [See the remarks on the passage from Lucrece in Section I. on the technical meaning of 'strain.']

Twelfth Night I, i.

Duke. If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die.— That strain again! it had a dying fall: O! it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour.—Enough! no more: 'Tis not so sweet now, as it was before.

Brutus' musical establishment is on a smaller scale than the Duke's. He keeps a 'good boy,' who can sing to his own accompaniment on the lute, and is such a willing servant as to perform when almost overcome by sleep.

Julius Caesar IV, iii, 256. Brutus and his servant Lucius.

Bru. Bear with me, good boy, I am much forgetful. Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile, And touch thy instrument a strain or two?

Luc. Ay, my lord, an't please you.

Bru. It does, my boy. I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing.

* * * * *

[Boy sings to lute.]

Bru. This is a sleepy tune: [Boy drops off]—O murderous slumber! Lay'st thou thy leaden mace upon my boy, That plays thee music?—Gentle knave, good night; I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee. If thou dost nod, thou break'st thy instrument: I'll take it from thee; and, good boy, good night.—

[Ghost of Caesar appears.]

L. 290.

Bru. Boy!—Lucius!—Varro! Claudius! sirs, awake!—Claudius!

Luc. [asleep]. The strings, my lord, are false.

Bru. He thinks he still is at his instrument.

In Henry VIII. III, i is a case of the same kind.

Queen Catherine. Take thy lute, wench: my soul grows sad with troubles: Sing, and disperse them, if thou canst. Leave working.

[Song. 'Orpheus.']

The next passage brings us to another class of music—viz., dirges, funeral songs, or 'good-nights.' [See H. 4. B. III, ii, 322]. In Cymbeline IV, ii, 184, Cadwal (Arviragus) sounds an 'ingenious instrument' to signify Imogen's death. Polydore (Guiderius) says they had not used it since their mother died. The song, or more properly, duet, which they sing directly after, in memory of Imogen, may be taken in this connection. Unfortunately there seems to be no musical setting of 'Fear no more the heat o' the sun' any older than 1740.

In the following quotation 'dirges' are mentioned by name.

Rom. IV, iv, 21.

Capulet. ... "Good faith! 'tis day: The county [Count Paris] will be here with music straight."

Sc. v. 84.

Cap. All things, that we ordained festival, Turn from their office to black funeral: Our instruments to melancholy bells; Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast; Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change.

In close connection with these funeral songs is the passage in Hen. VIII. IV, ii, 77, where Queen Katherine, sick, requests her gentleman-usher to get the musicians to play a favourite piece of this class—

... Good Griffith, Cause the musicians play me that sad note I named my knell, whilst I sit meditating On that celestial harmony I go to.

[She sleeps, then, waking from the vision—]

... Bid the music leave, They are harsh and heavy to me.

It would be of great interest if it were possible to identify Queen Katherine's 'Knell.'

There is an old song, given in Chappell's Popular Music, 'O Death, rock me to sleep,' which might be the very one, for both music and words are singularly appropriate. The Refrain is as follows:—

'Tole on thou passing bell Ringe out my dolefull knell Let thy sound my death tell, For I must die, There is no remedye.'

The song is most plaintive, and has a very striking feature in the shape of a real independent accompaniment, which keeps up a continual figure of three descending notes, like the bells of a village church. Hawkins gives the poem, with certain variations, and two extra verses at the beginning, the first commencing—

'Defiled is my name full sore, Through cruel spite and false report.'

and he says the verses are thought to have been written by Anne Boleyn. Hawkins also gives music (in four parts) to the first two verses, by Robt. Johnson, a contemporary of Shakespeare's. The music of the song in Chappell is much older than that; indeed, it is very possibly of Hen. VIII.'s time.



V

DANCES AND DANCING

The history of Dances is the history of the transition from pure vocal music to pure instrumental music. In the Dances of the 16th century, we have the germs of the modern 'Sonata' Form; and in the association of certain of them we have the first attempt at a sequence of different 'movements,' which finally resulted in the Sonata itself.

The Elizabethan Dances, especially the Pavan, shew us this development just at the point where instrumental music was dividing itself from vocal.

All the ancient dances were originally sung. In Grove's Dictionary, Vol. ii. p. 676, there is given the music of a Pavan, in four vocal parts, with the words sung [copied from Arbeau's Orchesographie, 1588]. Morley (Practical Music, 1597) mentions Ballete, as being 'songs which being sung to a dittie may likewise be danced.' Again, he speaks of 'a kind of songs ... called Justinianas ... all written in the Bergamasca language.' See Mids. Nt. Dream V, ii, 30, where Bottom is not so very inaccurate after all in asking Duke Theseus to 'hear a Bergomask dance between two of our company.' The same author also gives 'Passamesos with a dittie [i.e., sung],' and distinguishes between these aforesaid and 'those kinds which they make without ditties.' [Passamesos are Passing-measures—or Passamezzo—Pavans, see Twelfth Nt. V, i, 200.]

Hence it appears that in Elizabeth's reign some dances were sung, and others were simply played.

Morley goes on to instance two particular dances which were commonly associated together—viz., Pavans and Galliards. [Tw. V, i, 200, I, iii, 127, etc., H. 5. I, ii, 252], the first of which he says is for 'grave' dancing, having three 'strains,' each containing 8, 12, or 16 semibreves (two beats in a bar), which are each repeated; and that this Pavan is usually followed by a Galliard, 'a kind of music made out of the other' [see Bull's Pavan and Galliard, 'St Thomas Wake,' in Parthenia] in triple time, 'a lighter and more stirring dance than the Pavan, and consisting of the same number of straines.'

The next passage from Morley is very interesting when compared with the stage direction in Timon I, ii, 131, where a masque of Ladies as Amazons enter the banquetting hall at Timon's house, with lutes in their hands, dancing and playing. This stage direction corresponds closely with Morley's account, 'the Italians make their galliards (which they tearm salta relly) plain' [i.e., alone; not as an appendage to the Pavan, as in England], 'and frame ditties to them, which in their mascaradoes they sing and dance, and manie times without any instruments at all, but instead of instruments they have Curtisans disguised in men's apparell, who sing and daunce to their own songes.'

The 'French bransle,' he says, is like the Alman (Allemagne of Bach, etc.)—i.e., it 'containeth the time of eight, and most commonly in short notes.' This is the Brawl, see L.L.L. III, i, 9, and was one of several tunes to which the Country Dance was danced, whether in a ring, or 'at length,' like our 'Sir Roger.'

He says that the 'voltes and courantes' also are 'like unto this,' but are 'danced after sundrie fashions' [he means, with different steps, but occupying the same rhythmical time, so that the same tune would do], 'the volte rising and leaping, the courant travising and running, in which measure also our Countrey dance is made, though it be danced after another form than any of the former.'

'All these be made in straines, either two or three.' See Tw. I, i, 4, 'that strain again,' or Julius Caesar IV, iii, 258, 'touch thy instrument a strain or two.'

Christopher Sympson, the royalist soldier (1667), confirms Morley's statements as to the constitution and use of these dances. See his 'Compendium,' p. 116, where he expressly states that pure instrumental music, 'made only to delight the ear,' is merely a development from Dances.

He speaks of the association of Pavan and Galliard as being 'in course.' He spells the latter Giliard, and says that it is 'according to its name' [see Skeat, Etym. Dict., Spanish, gallardo (ll = ly), pleasant, gay, lively] 'of a loftly and frolick movement.' Immediately afterwards, however, Sympson seems to forget his own remarks, for he says the name is derived from Gallia, 'the country whence it came.'

On page 117 he speaks of Corants, Sarabands, Jiggs, Country Dances, etc., as 'things so common in each one's ears' that he 'need not enlarge his Discourse' to them.

There is a capital bit of patriotism on page 118, which deserves quoting, first, because at the time it was entirely justifiable; secondly, because it shews us that in 1667, instrumental music had at last decidedly parted company with vocal part-writing, and had an independent existence. 'You need not seek Outlandish Authors, especially for Instrumental Music; no Nation (in my opinion) being equal to the English in that way; as well for their excellent as their various and numerous Consorts, of 3, 4, 5, and 6 Parts, made properly [on purpose] for Instruments, of all which (as I said) Fancies are the chief.' For 'Consort,' see Two Gent. III, ii, 83; and for 'Fancies,' Hen. IV. B. III, ii, 323.

Hawkins (1776) does not add much of interest to the above account of the Elizabethan dances, except (p. 704) that there is no authority for a Jigg having generally a pointed (i.e., dotted) note at the beginning of every bar. There is, however, a 'Jegge' given in Stainer and Barrett's Dict. of Musical Terms, dated 1678, where the 'pointed' note is quite characteristic. This may be a more modern feature, for an undoubtedly ancient Jig—viz., Dr Bull's 'King's Hunting Jigg,' not only has no dotted note, but is in common time, without even a tendency towards the rhythm of triplets. [Also see Appendix, 'Cobbler's Jig.' 1622.]

Here is a most entertaining quotation from Selden,[19] dealing with fashionable court dances in Elizabeth's reign, and shewing how things had gone from bad to worse in respect of dignity and state in dancing, under the Stuarts.

[Footnote 19: Selden's Table Talk, article 'King of England,' Sec. 7.]

'The court of England is much alter'd. At a solemn dancing, first you had the grave measures, then the Corantoes and the Galliards, and this kept up with ceremony; and at length to Trenchmore, and the Cushion dance: Then all the company dances, lord and groom, lady and kitchen-maid, no distinction. So in our court in queen Elizabeth's time, gravity and state were kept up. In king James's time things were pretty well. But in king Charles's time, there has been nothing but Trenchmore and the Cushion-dance, omnium gatherum, tolly polly, hoite cum toite.'

There are very many passages of interest, containing references to Dances. The first one here given is an instance (in Shakespeare's very text) of singing a dance and dancing to it at the same time. Here the Brawl, and Canary, the first in alphabetical order, are coupled together.

L.L.L. III, i, 9.

Moth. Master, will you win your love with a French brawl?

Arm. How meanest thou? brawling in French?

Moth. No, my complete master; but to jig off a tune at the tongue's end, canary to it with your feet, ... sigh a note, and sing a note.'

Two other examples of dancing to one's own singing are, Mids. V, ii, 25 and Wiv. V, v, 93.

The Brawl was written in quick four-in-a-bar time. There are several well-known tunes to it. [See Note on Arbeau's 'Orchesographie.' 1588.] The derivation of the name is from the French, bransle, a totter, swing, shake, etc., or perhaps from Old French Brandeler, to wag, shake, swing. Skeat thinks the original dance may have been a sword dance, and with this he connects the word Brandish.[20] It was danced, sometimes in a ring, holding hands, and sometimes 'at length.'

[Footnote 20: This hardly seems a necessary theory. See the Note on 'Orchesographie,' where the 'swinging' movement is fully accounted for.]

The Canary (or Canaries) was in 6/8 time, and was a lively dance. [Stainer and Barrett's Dict. gives one by Delaborde in 4/4 time.] There are many examples by Lully and other Frenchmen of the 17th century. One of Lully's, in Lajarte's 'Airs a Danser,' dates 1666. There is no history of the name. Skeat says it is so called from the Canary Islands. Hawkins does not attempt to account for the title, but cunningly infers that it is of English origin because it has not got a foreign name. Also he mentions that Purcell wrote a Canaries for his Opera of Dioclesian, 1690. [See Note on 'Orchesographie.']

The Canary is also alluded to in two other places, where the lively character of the dance is clear. Mr Ford puns on 'wine,' 'pipe,' and 'canary.' Of course he means whine, pipe (for dancing to), and the Canary that he meant Falstaff to dance.

Wiv. III, ii, 83.

Host. Farewell, my hearts. I will to my honest knight Falstaff, and drink canary with him.

Ford. [aside] I think, I shall drink in pipe-wine first with him; I'll make him dance.

And next, Lafeu connects the canary with 'spritely fire and motion.'

All's Well II, i, 74.

Lafeu. ... I have seen a medicine That's able to breathe life into a stone, Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary With spritely fire and motion.

There are two specially important passages which mention several dances at one time, so as to give some prominence to their special characteristics—viz., Much Ado II, i, 68, and Twelfth Nt. I, iii, 118.

The budget of dances here named includes—

1. Cinque-pace, or Sinkapace. 2. Coranto, or Courante. 3. Galliard. 4. Jig (Scotch). 5. Measure.

Much Ado II, i, 68.

Beatrice. The fault will be in the music, cousin, if you be not woo'd in good time: if the prince be too important [importunate], tell him, there is measure in everything, and so dance out the answer. For hear me, Hero; wooing, wedding, and repenting, is as a Scotch jig, a measure, and a cinque-pace: the first suit is hot and hasty, like a Scotch jig, and full as fantastical; the wedding, mannerly modest, as a measure, full of state and ancientry; and then comes repentance, and with his bad legs falls into the cinque-pace faster and faster till he sink into his grave.

Tw. I, iii, 118.

Sir To. What is thy excellence in a galliard, knight?

Sir And. 'Faith, I can cut a caper.

* * * * *

L. 123.

Sir To. Wherefore are these things hid?... why dost thou not go to church in a galliard, and come home in a coranto? My very walk should be a jig: ... sink-a-pace. What dost thou mean? is it a world to hide virtues in? I did think, by the excellent constitution of thy leg, it was formed under the star of a galliard.

To take these five dances in order—

1. Cinquepace is the name of the original Galliard. Praetorius (b. 1571) says a Galliard has five steps, and is therefore called Cinque Pas. These five steps are described in the Orchesographie, 1588. See the Note on that work for the explanation of the steps of this and other Shakespeare dances.

Beatrice's description seems to connect the cinquepace with the tottering and uncertain steps of old age. 'Repentance,' she says, 'with his bad legs falls into the cinquepace faster and faster, till he sink into his grave.'

2. Coranto is the Italian form of our Country dance. The Country dance is original in England, but under different foreign names has been called French or Italian. It means simply 'country' or 'rustic' dance. Skeat is entirely opposed to the derivation from Contra danza, with a supposed reference to two opposite lines of partners; and in this he is confirmed by Shakespeare, Tempest IV, i, 138, 'country footing.' The old English name was 'current traverse,' and Morley (1597) speaks of the Courant step as 'travising and running,' which would appear to connect the Italian word with curro. Sir John Davies (1570-1626), in his poem 'Orchestra,' identifies Rounds, Corantos, measures, and some other dances with Country Dances. That is, whatever the rhythm or speed of the actual tune used, these variously named Country Dances could be performed to it. Sir Roger de Coverly, our typical English Country Dance, is in form almost the same as the Brawl, Coranto, Galliard, or measure. A Courant by Frescobaldi (1591-1640) is in triple time. As for its 'step,' Davies says it is 'on a triple dactile foot,' 'close by the ground with sliding passages.' According to Sir Toby, it would be a quicker and gayer dance than the Galliard, for he compares the walk to church to the latter; but the more lighthearted journey back to dinner he likens to the Coranto. The Jig would be even faster, for Sir Andrew's 'very walk,' that is, his week-day gait, was to be 'a jig.'

3. The Galliard, in accordance with its derivation, is properly described in H. 5. I, ii, 252, as a 'nimble' galliard. This was extremely popular, both as a virginal piece and for dancing. There is quite a long list of Galliards by various composers, in Qu. Elizabeth's Virginal Book. There are several in Parthenia (1611) by Byrde, Bull, and Gibbons. They are always in triple time, and consist of either two or three strains of an even number of bars.

Sir Toby seems to connect a Galliard with somewhat violent 'capers.' He remarks on the 'excellent constitution' of Sir Andrew's leg, 'it was formed under the star of a galliard.' Sir Andrew complacently replies, 'Ay, 'tis strong,' upon which Sir Toby proposes to the foolish knight to give an example of his powers; 'Let me see thee caper. Ha! higher.' This capering or 'sault majeur' was also a feature of the 'high lavolt' [La Volta] mentioned in Troilus IV, iv, 84, concerning which Sir John Davies says—

'An anapaest is all their music's song, Whose first two feet are short, and third is long.'

Also he calls the lavolte 'a lofty jumping.' Morley (1597) speaks of the Volte, and says it is characterised by 'rising and leaping,' and is of the same 'measure' as a coranto. These statements do not all agree with the 'Orchesographie.'

4. Jigg [later Gigue, and Jig]. The name comes from Giga (Geige), a sort of fiddle in use during the 12th and 13th centuries. The oldest jigs are Scottish, and were 'round dances' for a large number of people. As for the time of the Jig tunes, those of the 18th century were certainly written in a triple rhythm, like 3/8, 6/4 or 12/8. The Jegge of 1678, mentioned above, is in quick 6/4 time. But 'The Cobbler's Jig' [Appendix], 1622, and a Jigg by Matthew Locke, dated 1672, in his 'Compositions for Broken and Whole Consorts of 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6 parts,' are very decidedly in quick 4/4 time, and have no such characteristics as a 'dotted note' anywhere about them. Moreover, Bull's 'The King's Hunting Jigg,' is also in quick 4/4 time, with a similar absence of dotted notes. This last example is probably earlier than 1600. At any rate it was a lively dance, as we can learn from Hamlet.

Hamlet II, ii, 504. The 1st Player recites a speech.

Polonius. This is too long.

Hamlet. It shall to the barber's, with your beard.—Pr'ythee (to the 1st Player), say on: he's for a jig, ... or he sleeps.

5. Measure. Beatrice, in the quoted passage from Much Ado About Nothing, gives a capital idea of the relative speed of the Scotch jig and the Measure. The jig, she says, is like the lover's wooing, hot, hasty, and fantastical; the measure, however, is like the Wedding, mannerly modest, full of state and ancientry.

The term Measure certainly seems to have been used to signify a particularly staid and formal dance. Selden (see above), at least, puts 'grave Measures' at the sober beginning of his list, and so goes on, by easy descent, through the more spirited Coranto, and tolerably lively Galliard, to the lower depths of the Cushion-Dance, which were reached towards the close of the evening, when the grave and reverend Elders may be supposed to have gone to bed.

But, besides this, the word appears to have been used generically, meaning merely 'a dance.' It was certainly applied to the Passamezzo, and to other country dances. In H. 8. I, iv, 104, King Henry says—

... 'I have half a dozen healths To drink to these fair ladies, and a measure To lead 'em once again.'

The next passage uses the word for a pun.

As You V, iv, 178.

Duke Senior. Play Music! and you brides and bridegrooms all, With measure heap'd in joy, to the measures fall.

L. 192.

Jaques. ... So, to your pleasures; I am for other than for dancing measures.

A similar play upon the word is in Richard II. III, iv, 6, where the queen asks her ladies to propose some sport to drive away care.

1 Lady. Madam, we'll dance.

Queen. My legs can keep no measure in delight, When my poor heart no measure keeps in grief: Therefore, no dancing, girl.

See especially the following, which holds a whole string of quibbles.

L.L.L. V, ii, 184. Masked ball.

King of Navarre. Say to her, we have measur'd many miles, To tread a measure with her on this grass.

Boyet (to the ladies). They say, that they have measur'd many a mile, To tread a measure with you on this grass.

Rosaline. It is not so. Ask them how many inches Is in one mile: if they have measur'd many, The measure then of one is easily told.

Boyet. If, to come hither, you have measur'd miles, And many miles, the princess bids you tell, How many inches do fill up one mile.

Biron. Tell her, we measure them by weary steps.

And l. 209, measure.

Another dance that is frequently referred to is the Dump, the slow and mournful character of which has already been explained in the notes on Lucrece 1127. As a serenade it is named in the Two Gent. III, ii, 83. The nature of the steps of this dance is not certainly known. Two features, however, may be guessed at—viz., a tapping of the foot at certain places, which may be inferred from the possible connection of the word with 'Thump'; and secondly, an alternation of a slow sliding step, interspersed with dead pauses, and a quicker movement, succeeded again by the slow step. These last seem to be indicated by the music of 'My Lady Carey's Dump,' part of which is given in the Appendix. The character of the Dump has given us the modern expression of 'in the dumps'—i.e., sulky; and this is also used commonly in Shakespeare.

In the next passage, Peter, Capulet's servant, speaks ironically of a 'merry' dump, and quotes verse 1 of Richard Edwards' song, 'When griping grief.' For an account of that song see Section III., about Songs and Singing. In Peter's quotation, the dumps are 'doleful.'

The quibbles on 'silver sound,' 'sweet sound,' 'sound for silver,' 'no gold for sounding,' are further examples of Shakespeare's fondness for joking on musical matters. Peter's reply to the Third Musician, 'You are the singer; I will say for you,' may be a just reflection on Mr James Soundpost's lack of words, or perhaps indicates that the pronunciation of singers even in that musical age was no better than it is now.

The improvised names of the musicians are pointed enough; Simon 'Catling,' referring to the material of his viol strings; Hugh 'Rebeck,' the rebeck being the ancient English fiddle with three strings. The 'smale' Ribible, which Absolon, the parish clerk in Chaucer, used to play 'songes' on, is supposed to be the same instrument; and finally, James 'Soundpost,' which wants no explaining.

The final remark of Musician 2 is delicious, 'tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner.'

Rom. IV, v, 96. After Juliet's apparent death.

Exeunt Capulet, Lady C., Paris, etc.

1 Musician. 'Faith, we may put up our pipes, and be gone.

Nurse. Honest good fellows, ah! put up, put up; For well you know, this is a pitiful case.

1 Mus. Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended.

(See H. 5. III, ii, 42, about Bardolph and the lute case.)

Enter Peter.

Peter. Musicians, O, musicians! "Heart's ease, Heart's ease": O! an you will have me live, play "Heart's ease."

1 Mus. Why "Heart's ease?"

Peter. O, musicians, because my heart itself plays—"My heart is full of woe." O! play me some merry dump, to comfort me.

2 Mus. Not a dump we: 'tis no time to play now.

* * * * *

Peter. Then will I lay the serving creature's dagger on your pate. I will carry no crotchets: I'll re you, I'll fa you. Do you note me?

1. Mus. An you re us, and fa us, you note US.

2. Mus. Pray you, put up your dagger, and put out your wit.

Peter. Then have at you with my wit.... Answer me like men:

When griping grief the heart doth wound, And DOLEFUL DUMPS the mind oppress, Then music with her silver sound—

Why "silver sound"? why "music with her silver sound"? what say you, Simon Catling?

1 Mus. Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound.

Peter. Pretty!—what say you, Hugh Rebeck?

2 Mus. I say—"silver sound" because musicians sound for silver.

Peter. Pretty too!—what say you, James Soundpost?

3 Mus. 'Faith, I know not what to say.

Peter. O! I cry you mercy; you are the singer: I will say for you. It is—"music with her silver sound," because musicians have no gold for sounding:—

Then music with her silver sound With speedy help doth lend redress.

[Exit.

1 Mus. What a pestilent knave is this same!

2 Mus. Hang him, Jack! [Peter's names evidently all wrong.] Come, we'll in here; tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner.

[Exeunt.]

The Hay, Hey, or Raye, seems to be mentioned only once—viz., in Love's Labour's Lost, in the account of the preparations for the Pageant of the Worthies. Constable Dull proposes to accompany the dancing of the hay with a tabor, which may be taken as the common practice. Holofernes says Dull's idea is 'most dull,' like himself. The Hay was a Round country-dance—i.e., the performers stood in a circle to begin with, and then (in the words of an old direction quoted in Stainer and Barrett's Dict.) 'wind round handing in passing until you come to your places.' See the note on Arbeau's Orchesographie for the steps and tune of the Haye.

Hawkins says (Hist. 705) that in an old comedy called the Rehearsal, the Earth, the Sun, and Moon are made to dance the Hey to the tune of Trenchmore, which is referred to in the above-quoted passage from Selden, as a lively and even boisterous dance.

L.L.L. V, i, 148. Schoolmaster Holofernes & Co. arranging the Pageant of the Nine Worthies.

Dull. I'll make one in a dance, or so; or I will play On the tabor to the Worthies, and let them dance the hay.

Hol. Most dull, honest Dull.

The Morrice Dance, or Morris, was very popular in England and other countries in the 16th century.

Relics of it may still be seen in country places at certain times of the year. The very meagre celebrations of May Day, which can be seen in London even now, are a survival of the ancient customs with which the Morrice-Dance was always associated. Hawkins gives this account of the Morris; "there are few country places in this kingdom where it is not known; it is a dance of young men in their shirts, with bells at their feet, and ribbons of various colours tied round their arms, and slung across their shoulders. Some writers, Shakespeare in particular, mention a Hobby-horse and a Maid Marian, as necessary in this recreation. Sir William Temple speaks of a pamphlet in the library of the Earl of Leicester, which gave an account of a set of morrice-dancers in King James's reign, composed of ten men or twelve men, for the ambiguity of his expression renders it impossible to say which of the two numbers is meant, who went about the country: that they danced a Maid Marian, with a tabor and pipe, and that their ages one with another made up twelve hundred years."

[Temple's own words are quite clear—viz., that there were ten men who danced; a Maid Marian (makes eleven); and a man to play the tabor and pipe (makes twelve).]

The name Morrice means Moorish dance, or Morisco. Perhaps it was called so from being accompanied by the tabor, for Drums of all sorts are distinctly Eastern instruments.

Two tunes, one a Moresca by Monteverde, 1608, and the other an English Morris, 1650, are given in the Appendix. Also see Note on 'Orchesographie' for a Morisque.

The first of the two following passages connects the morris with May Day; the second with Whitsuntide, which is in May as often as not.

All's Well II, ii, 20.

Countess. Will your answer serve fit to all questions?

Clown. As fit as ... a pancake for Shrove Tuesday, a morris for May-day....

H. 5. II, iv, 23.

Dauphin. And let us do it with no show of fear; No, with no more, than if we heard that England Were busied with a Whitsun morris-dance;

The Pavan has been mentioned before, as the dance in Duple time which preceded the Galliard which was in a triple rhythm. It was a stately dance, with a stately name, for the derivation is most probably from Pavo, a peacock, with a reference, no doubt, to the majestic strut and gay feathers of that bird. It was de rigueur for gentlemen to dance the Pavan in cap and sword; for lawyers to wear their gowns, princes their mantles; and ladies to take part in the fullest of full dress, the long trains of their gowns being supposed to correspond in appearance and movement to the peacock's tail.

The only Pavan mentioned by Shakespeare is the Passy-measures pavin, otherwise known as Passing-measures-pavin, or Passameso, or Pass e mezzo, which last is the earliest form of the word.

Praetorius (b. 1571), however, says the Passe mezzo is so called because it has only half as many steps as a Galliard. Thus the name is inverted, mezzo Passo. Hawkins helps to confuse the matter by explaining that the Galliard has five bars or steps in the first strain, and that the Passamezzo has just half that number, and thus gets its name. No Galliard ever had an uneven number of bars in any of its strains, so this account is difficult to reconcile.

However, Pass e mezzo, 'step and a half,' is the most trustworthy form of the name, and the Note on the Orchesographie of Arbeau (1588) makes all quite clear.

The Passamezzo (or passy-measures pavin) tune in the Appendix has a similar construction to the ordinary pavan, the form of which has been explained earlier in this section—i.e., it consists of regular 'strains,' which in their turn contain a certain even number of semibreves, or 'bars.' In the case given, the strains consist of eight bars each. This must be borne in mind, in connection with Sir Toby's drunken fancy about the surgeon, in the following passage:—

Tw. V, i, 197.

Sir To. [Drunk, and with a bloody coxcomb]—Sot, didst see Dick surgeon, sot?

Clo. O! he's drunk, Sir Toby, an hour agone; his eyes were set at eight i' the morning.

Sir To. Then he's a rogue, and a passy-measures pavin.

Toby being only moderately sober, naturally feels indignant at the doctor's indiscretions in the same kind; and, quite as naturally, the Clown's remark about the latter's eyes brings this fantastic comparison into his head. The doctor's eyes were set at eight, and so is a Pavan set 'at eight.' It is easy to see Sir Toby's musical gifts asserting themselves, confused recollections reeling across his brain, of that old rule in Morley about the right number of semibreves in a strain, 'fewer then eight I have not seen in any Pavan.' 'Also in this you must cast your musicke by foure: ... no matter how manie foures you put in your straine.' Bull's Pavan, 'St Thomas Wake,' has two strains of sixteen bars each—i.e., two 'eights.' [Appendix.]

The last passage given here shows clearly that the Lavolta and Coranto were considered exotic in England in Shakespeare's time.

The French ladies here recommend their runaway husbands and brothers to cross the Channel and try to earn a living by teaching French dances to the stately English. Probably the "English dancing-schools" in those days would think the solemn walk of the Pavan quite as lively an amusement as good society could allow. There are other passages too which show that Shakespeare (or his characters) had a fine 'insular' feeling against these 'newfangled' fashions from France.

H. 5. III, v, 32.

Bourbon (Speaks of the mocking French ladies). They bid us to the English dancing-schools, And teach lavoltas high, and swift corantos; Saying, our grace is only in our heels, And that we are most lofty runaways.

NOTE ON ARBEAU'S 'ORCHESOGRAPHIE,' 1588.

This interesting book on the Art of Dancing was published at Macon [Transcriber's Note: corrected from Macon] in 1588. [The date on the title page is 1589.] The author was Jehan Tabourot, but his real name does not appear in the work, being anagrammatised into Thoinot Arbeau; and under the guise of Arbeau he is best known.

The treatise is written (like Morley's Introduction to Practical Music) in the form of Dialogue between Master (Arbeau) and Pupil (Capriol); and gives a most clear description of all the fashionable dances of the time, as far as words can do it; dance tunes in music type; and incidentally, many instructions as to the manners of good society.

As much light is thrown upon the dances which are mentioned in Shakespeare by this book, some of the principal descriptions will be given here, with the proper music.

On p. 25, Capriol (the Pupil) asks his Master (Arbeau) to describe the steps of the 'basse' dance. This was the 'danse par bas, ou sans sauter,' which was of the 15th century, was in triple time, and contained three parts, A, basse dance; B, Retour de la basse dance; C, Tordion. This 3rd part, or tordion, 'n'est aultre chose qu'une gaillarde par terre'; i.e., the Tordion of a Basse dance was simply a Galliard par terre, without the leaping or 'Sault majeur.'

Before Arbeau answers his pupil, he gives him some preliminary instruction as to the etiquette of the ball room. He says—'In the first place ... you should choose some virtuous damsel whose appearance pleases you (telle que bon vous semblera), take off your hat or cap in your left hand, and tender her your right hand to lead her out to dance. She, being modest and well brought up, will give you her left hand, and rise to follow you. Then conduct her to the end of the room, face each the other, and tell the band to play a basse dance. For if you do not, they may inadvertently play some other kind of dance. And when they begin to play, you begin to dance.'

Capriol. If the lady should refuse, I should feel dreadfully ashamed.

Arbeau. A properly educated young lady NEVER refuses one who does her the honour to lead her out to the dance. If she does, she is accounted foolish (sotte), for if she doesn't want to dance, what is she sitting there for amongst the rest?

The Master then gives his pupil an account of the basse dance, the 1st and 2nd parts of which are composed of various arrangements of the following movements—

1. La reverence, marked with a big R.

2. Le branle (not the dance of that name), marked with b.

3. Deux simples, marked ss.

4. Le double, marked d.

5. La reprise, marked with a little r.

The 'chanson'—i.e., the dance tune, was played on the flute, and accompanied by the 'tabourin' or drum, which beats all the time. Every 'bar' of the music is called either a 'battement' of the drum, or a 'mesure' of the chanson.

Now Arbeau explains the steps and time of each of the above five movements.

1. R. This takes four bars. Begin with left foot forward, and in doing the reverence, half turn your body and face towards the Damoiselle, and cast on her 'un gracieux regard.'

2. b.[21] Also takes four bars. Keep the feet joined together, then for the 1st bar, swing the body gently to the left side; 2nd bar, swing to the right, while gazing modestly upon 'les assistants;' 3rd bar, swing again to the left; and for the 4th bar, swing to the right side, looking on the Damoiselle with an 'oeillade defrobee, doulcement et discretement.'

[Footnote 21: The branle (not the dance, but as used here) is called Congedium by Anthoine Arena. Arbeau thinks because the dancer appears about to take leave of his partner—i.e., prendre conge. See Hen. VIII., IV. ii. l. 82, stage direction, 'congee.']

3. ss. 1st bar, left foot forward; 2nd bar, bring right foot up to the said left foot; 3rd bar, advance the right foot; 4th bar, join the left foot to the said right foot; et ainsi sera parfaict le mouvement des deux simples.

N.B.—Always suit the length of your steps to the size of the room, and the convenience of the Damoiselle, who cannot with modesty take such big steps as you can.

4. d. 1st bar, advance left foot; and, advance right foot; 3rd, advance left foot; 4th, join right to left. For two doubles (dd) do it over again, but contrariwise, beginning with the Right foot. For three doubles (ddd), the form of the third will be, 1st bar, advance left foot; 2nd, advance right foot; 3rd, advance left foot; 4th, 'puis tumbera pieds joincts comme a este faict au premier double.' And thus (he carefully adds) the three doubles are achieved in 12 'battements et mesures du tabourin.'

5. The Reprise (r) is commonly found before the branle (b), and sometimes before the double (d) [see the Memoires]. In it you have to cultivate a certain movement of the knees, or feet, or 'les artoils seullement,' as if your feet were shaking under you. 1st bar, 'les artoils' of the right foot; 2nd bar, do.; 3rd bar, of the left foot; 4th, of the right foot again.

The Memoire of the movements of the basse dance—i.e., its first Part, is—

R b ss d r d r b ss ddd r d r b ss d r b C.

The C means the 'conge,' or 'leave' which you must take of the Damoiselle, salute her, and keep hold of her hand, and lead her back to where you began, in order to dance the Second Part—namely, the Retour de la basse dance, the Memoire for which is—

b d r b ss ddd r d r b C.

[The nine movements enclosed between the upright lines, are the same in both parts].

Capriol now remarks that he has been counting up, and finds that the music of the basse dance proper (part 1) has 20 'fours' (vingt quaternions), and the retour (part 2) has 12 'fours.'

Arbeau then describes the Tordion, which is Part 3 of the basse dance. He says it is still in triple time, but 'plus legiere et concitee,' and does not consist of 'simples, doubles, reprises,' etc., like the first and second parts, but is danced almost exactly as a Galliard, except that it is par terre—i.e., without any capers, and low on the ground, with a quick and light step; whereas the Galliard is danced high, with a slower and weightier 'mesure.'

He gives the following tune, which will fit to any of the innumerable diversities of Galliard. If played fast, it is a Tordion, if slower, a Galliard. [There are, of course, no bars in the original.]

TORDION OR GALLIARD (CINQUEPACE).

[Music]

Here are the Steps of the Galliard, consisting of five movements of the feet, and the caper, or 'sault majeur.' The five steps give the Galliard the name of Cinque pas.

1. Greve gaulche. ['Greve' is explained as a 'coup de pied.']

2. Greve droicte.

3. " gaulche.

4. " droicte.

5. Sault majeur.

6. Posture gaulche.

1, 2, 3, 4, 6 are the 'Cinq' pas, and 5 is the characteristic leap or caper.

The next six minims are danced to the Revers, which is just the same, except that the words 'right' and 'left' (droicte and gaulche) change places all the way down. Then repeat till the tune is finished.

Arbeau gives several other varieties of Galliard, and another very good tune for it, called

'ANTHOINETTE.' GALLIARD.

[Music]

The 'sault majeur' in this tune would come in the middle of the semibreves in the first strain; at the 'dot' of the dotted minims in the 2nd and 3rd strains; or, again, in the middle of the semibreves in the same strains.

Of the Pavan [commonly danced before the Basse-dance], Arbeau says it is very easy, consisting only of 'two simples and a double' advancing, and again 'two simples and a double' retiring. It is (as we already know) in Binary measure, and the careful Capriol once more joins in with his calculations of time, saying that he makes the Pavan 8 measures [semibreves] 'en marchant,' and 8 measures 'desmarchant.'

The master now gives particular instructions about the form and manner of dancing the Pavan. Noblemen dance these pavans and basse-dances 'belles et graves,' with cap and sword; others in long robes, 'marchants honnestement, avec une gravite posee.' And the damoiselles with an humble countenance, 'les yeulx baissez, regardans quelquefois les assistans avec une pudeur virginale.' Kings, princes, and 'Seigneurs graves,' in dancing the pavan on great occasions, wear their 'grands manteaux, et robes de parade.' Also, Queens, Princesses, and Ladies accompanying them, have their robes 'abaissees et trainans,' 'quelquefois portees par demoiselles.' The Pavan on these occasions is called LE GRAND BAL, and the music is provided, not by simple flute and drum, but by 'haulbois et saquebouttes,' and they continue the tune until the dancers have made the circuit of the 'salle' twice or thrice.

Besides this state dancing of pavans, this dance was used in Mascarade, when triumphal chariots of gods and goddesses enter, or of emperors and kings 'plains de maieste.'

On p. 29 ff, Arbeau gives the vocal Pavan for four voices, 'Belle qui tiens ma vie,' which is quoted in Grove. The proper drum accompaniment, continued throughout the 32 bars (2/2) is—[Music] etc. He also gives seven more verses of words to it, and says if you do not wish to dance, you can play or sing it. Moreover, he adds, that the drum is not a necessity, but is good to keep the time equal; and that for dancing you may use violins, spinets, flutes, both traverse and 'a neuf trous' (nine-holed flute—i.e., a flageolet), hautboys, and, in fact, 'all sorts of instruments'; or you may sing instead.

Arbeau's account of the Passemeze, or Passy-measures-pavin of Shakespeare, is very simple. He says that the instrumentalists increase the speed of the pavan every time they play it through, and by the time it has reached the moderate speed of a basse-dance, it is no longer called Pavan, but Passemeze.

Besides the State Pavan, and the Passamezzo Pavan, there is the 'Pavane d'Espagne,' which has some similarity to the Canaries.

Arbeau says that some consider the name Canaries to be that of a dance in use in those islands. But he thinks it more likely to have originated in a Ballet in a Mascarade, where the dancers were clad as kings and queens 'de Mauritanie,' as savages, with various coloured feathers. He says it is danced by a gentleman and a lady, from opposite ends of the room, each advancing and then retiring in turn.

The steps and tune are as follows—

CANARIES.

[Music]

1. Tappement du pied gauche, causant pied en l'air droit.

2. Marque talon droit (right heel).

3. Marque pied droit.

4. Tappement du pied droit, causant pied en l'air gauche.

5. Marque talon gauche (left heel).

6. Marque pied gauche.

7-12 are the same again.

Then for the 2nd half, instead of the 'tappements' at the minims, you should make 'une greve fort haulte, rabaissee en tappement de pied traine en derrier, comme si on marchoit dessus un crachat, ou qu'on voulust tuer une araignee.' (Make a very high step, but instead of tapping the foot, scrape it backwards, as if you were treading on spittle, or wanted to kill a spider.)

Arbeau gives 17 different kinds of Branle (Brawl of Shakespeare) before coming to the Branle des Sabots, which is danced, 2 beats in a bar, four steps to the right, then four to the left, like the branle doubles; then two simples (see above), and three taps of the foot, and Repeat.