APPENDIX. Part 3.
§ 1.—EXTRA SONGS IN THE WESTMINSTER-DROLLERY, 1674.
“A living Drollery!” (Shakespeare’s Tempest, Act iii. sc. 3.)
Before concluding our present series, The Drolleries of the Restoration, we have gladly given in this volume the fourteen pages of Extra Songs contained in the 1674 edition of Westminster-Drollery, Part 1st. Sometimes reported as amounting to “nearly forty” (but, perhaps, this statement referred to the Second Part inclusive), it is satisfactory to have joined these six to their predecessors; especially insomuch that our readers do not, like the original purchasers, have to pay such a heavy price as losing an equal number of pages filled with far superior songs. For, the 1671 Part First contained exactly 124 pages, and the 1674 edition has precisely the same number, neither more nor less. The omissions are not immediately consecutive, (as are the additions, which are gathered in one group in the final sheet, pp. 111-124.) They were selected, with unwise discrimination, throughout the volume. Not fourteen pages of objectionable and relinquishable facetiæ; but ten songs, from among the choicest of the poems. Our own readers are in better case, therefore: they gain the additions, without yielding any treasures of verse in exchange.
We add a list of what are thus relinquished from the 1674 edition, noting the pages of our Westm. D. on which they are to be found:—
| P. | 5. | Wm. Wycherley’s, A Wife I do hate | 1671 |
| — | 10. | Dryden’s, Phillis Unkind: Wherever I am | do. |
| — | 15. | Unknown, O you powerful gods, | ? do. |
| — | 28. | T. Shadwell’s, Thus all our life long, | 1669 |
| — | 30. | Dryden’s, Cellamina, of my heart, | 1671 |
| — | 31. | Ditto, Beneath a myrtle shade, | do. |
| — | 116. | Ditto, Ditto (almost duplicate), | do. |
| — | 47. | Ditto, Make ready, fair Lady, | 1668 |
| — | —. | Etherege’s, To little or no purpose, | do. |
| — | 91. | T. Carew’s, O my dearest, I shall, &c., | bef. 1638 |
| — | 100. | Ditto, or Cary’s, Farewell, fair Saint, | bef. 1652 |
Thus we see that most of these were quite new when the Westminster-Drollery first printed them (in four cases, at least, before the plays had appeared as books): they were rejected three years later for fresh novelties. But the removal of Carew’s tender poems was a worse offence against taste.
Except the odd Quakers’ Madrigall of “Wickham Wakened” (on p. 120; our [p. 188]), which is not improbably by Joe Haynes, we believe the whole of the other five new songs of 1674 came from one work. We are unable at once to state the name and author of the drama in which they occur. The five are given (severely mutilated, in two instances) in Wit at a Venture; or, Clio’s Privy-Garden, of the same date, 1674. Here, also, they form a group, pp. 33-42; with a few others that probably belong to the same play, viz., “Too weak are human eyes to pry;” “Oh that I ne’er had known the power of Love;” “Must I be silent? no, and yet forbear;” “Cease, wandering thought, and let her brain” (this is Shirley’s, in the “Triumph of Beauty,” 1645); “How the vain world ambitiously aspires;” “Heaven guard my fair Dorinda:” and, perhaps, “Rise, golden Fame, and give thy name or birth.” Titles are added to most of these.
[Page 179.] So wretched are the sick of Love, is, on p. 37 of Wit at a Venture, entitled Distempered Love. The third verse is omitted.
[Page 181.] To Arms! To Arms! &c., on p. 39, entitled The Souldier’s Song; 13th line reads “Where we must try.”
[Page 182.] Beauty that it self can kill, on p. 35; reading, in 20th line, “When the fame and virtue falls || Careless courage,” &c.
[Page 183.] The young, the fair, &c., on p. 33, is entitled The Murdered Enemy; reading Clarissa for Camilla; and giving lines 17th and 19th, “Her beauties” and “Fierce Lions,” &c. Line 23rd is “And not to check it in the least.”
[Page 184.] How frailty makes us to our wrong.
Called A Moral Song in Wit at a Venture, p. 41, which rightly reads “grovel,” not “gravel,” in line 6; but omits third verse, and all the Chorus.
[Page 188.] The Quaker and his Brats.
We have not seen this elsewhere. Attributed to “the famous actor, Joseph Haines,” or “Joe Haynes,”
Who, while alive, in playing took great pains,
Performing all his acts with curious art,
Till Death appear’d, and smote him with his dart.
His portrait, as when riding on a Jack-ass, in 1697, is extant. He died 4th April, 1701, and was mourned by the Smithfield muses.
§ 2.—ADDITIONAL NOTES
To the 1671-72 Editions of
WESTMINSTER-DROLLERY.
Page 81. Is she gone? let her go.
This is a parody or mock on a black-letter ballad in the Roxburghe Collection, ii. 102, entitled “The Deluded Lasses Lamentation: or, the False Youth’s Unkindness to his Beloved Mistress.” Its own tune. Printed for P. Brooksby, J. Deacon, J. Blare, J. Black. In four-line verses, beginning:—
Is she gone? let her go, I do not care,
Though she has a dainty thing, I had my share:
She has more land than I by one whole Acre,
I have plowed in her field, who will may take her.
Part I., p. 105. Hic jacet, John Shorthose.
The music to this is in Jn. Playford’s Musical Companion, 1673, p. 34 (as also to “Here lyes a woman,” &c. See Appendix to Westm. Droll., p. lviii).
Part I., p. 106. There is not half so warm, &c.
See Choyce Drollery, 1656, [p. 61, ante]; and [p. 293], for note correcting “daily” to “dully” in ninth line.
Part II., p. 74 (App. p. lv.) As Moss caught his Mare.
Not having had space at command, when giving a short Addit. Note on p. 408 of M. D. C., we now add a nursery rhyme (we should gladly have given another, which mentions catching the mare “Napping up a tree”). Perhaps the following may be the song reported as being sung in South Devon:—
Moss was a little man, and a little mare did buy,
For kicking and for sprawling none her could come nigh;
She could trot, she could amble, and could canter here and there,
But one night she strayed away—so Moss lost his Mare.
Moss got up next morning to catch her fast asleep,
And round about the frosty fields so nimbly he did creep.
Dead in a ditch he found her, and glad to find her there,
So I’ll tell you by and bye, how Moss caught his mare.
Rise! stupid, rise! he thus to her did say,
Arise you beast, you drowsy beast, get up without delay,
For I must ride you to the town, so don’t lie sleeping there,
He put the halter round her neck—so Moss caught his mare.
As that prematurely wise young sceptic Paul Dombey declared, when a modern-antique Legend was proffered to him, “I don’t believe that story!” It is frightfully devoid of ærugo, even of æruca. It may do for South Devon, and for Aylesbury farmers over their “beer and bacca,” but not for us. The true Mosse found his genuine mare veritably “napping” (not dead), up a real tree.
In John Taylor’s “A Swarme of Sectaries and Schismatiqves,” 1641, his motto is (concerning Sam Howe lecturing from a tub),
The Cobler preaches and his Audience are
As wise as Mosse was, when he caught his Mare.
Part II., page 89. Cheer up, my mates, &c.
(See Appendix to Westm. Droll., p. lxii.) The author of this frollicsome ditty was no other than Abraham Cowley (1618-67), dear to all who know his choice “Essays in Prose and Verse,” his unlaboured letters, the best of his smaller poems, or the story of his stainless life and gentleness. It is that noble thinker and poet, Walter Savage Landor, who writes, and in his finest mood:—
Time has been
When Cowley shone near Milton, nay, above!
An age roll’d on before a keener sight
Could separate and see them far apart.
(Hellenics, edit. 1859, p. 258.)
Yet while we yield unquestioningly the higher rank as Poet to John Milton, we hold the generous nature of his rival, Cowley, in more loving regard. He was not of the massive build in mind, or stern unflinching resolution needed for such times as those wherein his lot was cast. When the weakest goes to the wall, amid universal disturbance and selfish warring for supremacy, his was not the strong arm to beat back encroachment. Gentle, affectionate, and truthful, exceptionally pure and single-minded, although living as Queen Henrietta’s secretary in her French Court, where impurity of thought and lightness of conduct were scarcely visited with censure, the uncongenial scenes and company around him help to enhance the charm of his mild disposition. Heartless wits might lampoon him, stealthy foes defame him, lest he should gain one favour or reward that they were hankering after. To us he remains the lover of the “Old Patrician trees,” the friend of Crashaw and of Evelyn, the writer of the most delightful essays and familiar letters: alas! too few.
The “Song” in Westminster-Drollery, ii. 89, set by Pelham Humphrey, is the opening verse of Cowley’s “Ode: Sitting and Drinking in the Chair made out of the Reliques of Sir Francis Drake’s Ship.” [The chair was presented to the University Library, Oxford.]
Corrections: dull men are those who tarry; and spy too. Three verses follow. Of these we add the earliest, leaving uncopied the others, of 21 and 18 lines. They are to be found on p. 9 of Cowley’s “Verses written on Several Occasions,” folio ed., 1668. The idea of the shipwreck “in the wide Sea of Drink” had been early welcomed by him, and treated largely, Feb. 1638-9, in his Naufragium Joculare.
2.
What do I mean: What thoughts do me misguide?
As well upon a staff may Witches ride
Their fancy’d Journies in the Ayr,
As I sail round the Ocean in this Chair:
’Tis true; but yet this Chair which here you see,
For all its quiet now and gravitie,
Has wandred, and has travail’d more
Than ever Beast, or Fish, or Bird, or ever Tree before.
In every Ayr, and every Sea ’t has been,
’T has compos’d all the Earth, and all the Heavens ’t has seen.
Let not the Pope’s it self with this compare,
This is the only Universal Chair.
It must have been written before 1661, as it appears among the “Choyce Poems, being Songs, Sonnets, &c.”, printed for Henry Brome, (who ten years afterwards published Westm. Droll.) at the Gun in Ivie Lane, in that year. It is in the additional opening sheet, p. 13; not found in the 1658 editions of Choyce Poems.
Westminster-Drollery Appendix, p. liv. “The Green Gown,” Pan, leave piping, &c.
Under the title “The Fetching Home of May,” we meet an early ballad-form copy in the Roxburghe Collection, i. 535, printed for J. Wright, junior, dwelling at the upper end of the Old Bailey. It begins “Now Pan leaves piping,” and is in two parts, each containing five verses. Three of these are not represented in the Antidote of 1661. Wm. Chappell, the safest of all guides in such matters, notes that “the publisher [of the broadside] flourished in and after 1635. No clue remains to the authorship.” (Bd. Soc. reprint, iii. 311, 1875.)
As in the case of the companion-ditty, “Come, Lasses and Lads” (Westm. Droll., ii. 80), we may feel satisfied that this lively song was written before the year 1642. No hint of the Puritanic suppression of Maypoles can be discerned in either of them. Such sports were soon afterwards prohibited, and if ballads celebrating their past delights had then been newly written, the author must have yielded to the temptation to gird at the hypocrites and despots who desolated each village green. We cannot regard the Roxburghe Ballad as being superior to the Antidote version: But they mutually help one another in corrections. We note the chief: first verse, So lively it passes; Good lack, what paines; 2, Thus they so much; 3 (our 4), Came very lazily. It is after the five verses that differences are greatest. Our 6th verse is absent, and our 7th appears as the 8th; with new 6th, 7th, 9th, and 10th, which we here give, but print them to match our others:
THE FETCHING HOME OF MAY.
(The Second Part.)
6.
This Maying so pleased || Most of the fine lasses,
That they much desired to fetch in May flowers,
For to strew the windows and such like places,
Besides they’l have May bows, fit for shady bowers.
But most of all they goe || To find where Love doth growe,
Each young man knowes ’tis so, || Else hee’s a clowne:
For ’tis an old saying, || “There is great joying,
When maids go a Maying,” || They’ll have a greene gowne.
7.
Maidens and young men goe, || As ’tis an order old,
For to drink merrily and eat spiced cakes;
The lads and the lasses their customs wil hold,
For they wil goe walk i’ th’ fields, like loving mates:
Em calls for Mary, || And Ruth calls for Sarah,
Iddy calls for Har[r]y || To man them along:
Martin calls Marcy, || Dick calls for Debary,
Then they goe lovingly || All in a throng.
8. (Westm. Droll., 7.)
The bright Apollo || Was all the while peeping
To see if his Daphne had bin in the throng,
And, missing her, hastily downward was creeping,
For [Thetis] imagined [he] they tarri’d too long.
Then all the troope mourned || And homeward returned,
For Cynthia scorned || To smile or to frowne:
Thus did they gather May || All the long summer’s day,
And went at night away, || With a green gowne.
9.
Bright Venus still glisters, Out-shining of Luna;
Saturne was present, as right did require;
And he called Jupiter with his Queen Juno,
To see how Dame Venus did burn in desire:
Now Jove sent Mercury || To Vulcan hastily,
Because he should descry [decoy] Dame Venus down:
Vulkan came running, On Mars he stood frowning,
Yet for all his cunning, || Venus had a greene gowne.
10.
Cupid shootes arrowes At Venus her darlings,
For they are nearest unto him by kind:
Diana he hits not, nor can he pierce worldlings,
For they have strong armour his darts to defend:
The one hath chastity, And Cupid doth defie;
The others cruelty || makes him a clowne:
But leaving this I see, From Cupid few are free,
And ther’s much courtesie In a greene gowne.
FINIS.
We have a firm conviction that these verses (not including “The bright Apollo”) were unauthorized additions by an inferior hand, of a mere ballad-monger. We hold by the Antidote.
Part II., 100, Appendix, p. lxviii.
Here is the old ballad mentioned, from our own black-letter copy. Compare it with W. D.:—
The Devonshire Damsels’ Frollick.
Being an Account of nine or ten fair Maidens, who went one Evening lately, to wash themselves in a pleasant River, where they were discovered by several Young Men being their familiar Acquaintances, who took away their Gowns and Petticoats, with their Smocks and Wine and good Chear; leaving them a while in a most melancholly condition.
To a pleasant New Play-house Tune [music is given]: Or, Where’s my Shepherd?
This may be Printed. R[obt]. P[ocock, 1685-8].
Tom and William with Ned and Ben,
In all they were about nine or ten;
Near a trickling River endeavour to see
a most delicate sight for men;
Nine young maidens they knew it full well,
Sarah, Susan, with bonny Nell,
and all those others whose names are not here,
intended to wash in a River clear.
Simon gave out the report
the rest resolving to see the sport[,]
The Young freely repairing declaring
that this is the humours of Venus Court[,]
In a Bower those Gallants remaine
seeing the Maidens trip o’re the plain[:]
They thought no Body did know their intent
as merrily over the Fields they went.
Nell a Bottle of Wine did bring
with many a delicate dainty thing[,]
Their Fainting Spirits to nourish and cherish
when they had been dabbling in the Spring[:]
They supposing no Creature did know
to the River they merrily goe,
When they came thither and seeing none near[,]
Then under the bushes they hid their chear.
Then they stripping of all their Cloaths
their Gowns their Petticoats Shooes & Hose[,]
Their fine white smickits then stripping & skipping[,]
no Body seeing them they suppose[,]
Sarah enter’d the River so clear
and bid them follow they need not fear[,]
For why the Water is warm they replyed[,]
then into the River they sweetly glide.
Finely bathing themselves they lay
like pretty Fishes they sport and play[,]
Then let’s be merry[,] said Nancy, I fancy,
it’s seldom that any one walks this way[.]
Thus those Females were all in a Quill
and following on their Pastime still[,]
All naked in a most dainty trim
those Maidens like beautifull Swans did swim.
Whilst they followed on their Game[,]
out came sweet William and Tom by name.
They took all their Clothing and left nothing [t’ ’em:]
Maids was they not Villains and much to blame[?]
Likewise taking their Bottle of Wine[,]
with all their delicate Dainties fine[:]
Thus they were rifled of all their store,
was ever poor Maidens so serv’d before.
From the River those Maidens fair
Return’d with sorrow and deep despair[;]
When they seeing, brooding[,] concluding
that somebody certainly had been there[,]
With all their Treasure away they run[,]
Alas[!] said Nelle[,] we are undone,
Those Villains I wish they were in the Stocks,
that took our Petticoats Gowns and Smocks.
Then Sweet Sarah with modest Prue
they all was in a most fearful Hue[,]
Every Maiden replying and crying
they did not know what in the world to do[.]
But what laughing was there with the men
in bringing their Gowns and Smocks again[,]
The Maidens were modest & mighty mute[,]
and gave them fine curtsies and thanks to boot.
Printed for P. Brooksby at the Golden Ball in Pye Corner [1672-95.]
Part II., pp. 120, 123 (App. p. lxxii.)
O Love if e’er, &c. There is a parody or “Mock” to this, beginning “O Mars, if e’er thoult ease a blade,” and entitled “The Martial Lad,” in Wm. Hicks’ London Drollery, 1673, p. 116.
End of Notes to Westminster-Drollery.