“To the truly noble, virtuous, and honorable, my very good Lord Henry, Lord Winsor, Baron of Bradenham.
My Lord, in the College at Winchester, where I live, I have heard learned men say that some philosophers have mistaken the soul of man for an harmony: let the precedent of their error be a privilege for mine. I see not, if souls do not partly consist of music, how it should come to pass that so noble a spirit as your’s, so perfectly tuned to so perpetual a tenor of excellence as it is, should descend to the notice of a quality lying single in so low a personage as myself. But in music the base part is no disgrace to the best ears’ attendancy. I confess my conscience is untoucht with any other arts, and I hope my confession is unsuspected; many of us musicians think it as much praise to be somewhat more than musicians as it is for gold to be somewhat more than gold, and if Jack Cade were alive, yet some of us might live, unless we should think, as the artisans in the Universities of Poland and Germany think, that the Latin tongue comes by reflection. I hope your Lordship will pardon this presumption of mine; the rather, because I know before Nobility I am to deal sincerely; and this small faculty of mine, because it is alone in me, and without the assistance of other more confident sciences, is the more to be favoured and the rather to be received into your honour’s protection; so shall I observe you with as humble and as true an heart, as he whose knowledge is as large as the world’s creation, and as earnestly pray for you to the world’s Creator.
Your Honor’s in all humble service,
Thomas Weelkes.”
In 1608 appeared Weelkes’ last work, “Airs or Fantastic Spirits for three voices,” a collection of lively and humorous ditties. Oliphant writes:—“For originality of ideas, and ingenuity of construction in part writing, (I allude more especially to his ballets,) Weelkes in my opinion leaves all other composers of his time far behind.” The verses in Weelkes’ song-books are never heavy or laboured; they are always bright, cheerful, and arch.
Page [3]. Robert Jones was a famous performer on the lute. He had a share in the management of the theatre in the Whitefriars (Collier’s “Annals of the Stage,” i. 395). His works are of the highest rarity. The delightful lyrics in Jones’ song-books have escaped the notice of all the editors of anthologies.
Page [4]. Thomas Morley, who was a pupil of William Byrd, was the author of the first systematic treatise on music published in this country—“A plain and easy Introduction to practical Music,” 1597, quaintly set down in form of a dialogue. The verses in his collections are mere airy trifles, and hardly bear to be separated from the music.
“About the maypole new,” &c., is a translation of some Italian lines, beginning—
“Al suon d’una sampogn’ e d’una citera,
Sopra l’herbette floride
Dansava Tirsi con l’amata Cloride,” &c.
In Morley’s “Canzonets to three Voices,” 1593, we have the following pleasant description of the preparations for a country wedding:—
“Arise, get up, my dear, make haste, begone thee:
Lo! where the bride, fair Daphne, tarries on thee.
Hark! O hark! yon merry maidens squealing
Spice-cakes, sops-in-wine are a-dealing.
Run, then run apace
And get a bride-lace
And gilt rosemary branch the while there yet is catching
And then hold fast for fear of old snatching.
Alas! my dear, why weep ye?
O fear not that, dear love, the next day keep we.
List, yon minstrels! hark how fine they firk it,
And how the maidens jerk it!
With Kate and Will,
Tom and Gill,
Now a skip,
Then a trip,
Finely fet aloft,
There again as oft;
Hey ho! blessed holiday!
All for Daphne’s wedding day!”
Page [9]. John Wilbye is styled by Oliphant “the first of madrigal writers.” He published his “First Set of English Madrigals” in 1598, and his “Second Set” in 1609. The Second Set was dedicated to the unfortunate Lady Arabella Stuart. The composer concludes his dedicatory epistle with the prayer, “I beseech the Almighty to make you in all the passages of your life truly happy, as you are in the world’s true opinion, virtuous.” In the very year when the epistle was written the gifted patroness of art and learning was accused before the Privy Council and ordered to be kept in close confinement. She made her escape, but after a few hours was captured at sea in her flight to Dunkirk, brought back to London, and committed to the Tower, where she died of a broken heart in 1615. It is pleasant to think that the song-book dedicated to her honour may have cheered her in the long hours of solitude. The collection consists chiefly of love-lyrics; but such verses as “Happy, O happy he,” &c. (p. 37) and “Draw on, sweet Night” (p. 21), must have been carefully cherished by the poor captive.