more than any one that was there, said, "That they knew well enough,
that they were made but of stocks and stones, and that to them was no
worship given; but that there was a certain veneration due unto them
after they were set up in church: and that they were set there with a
good intent. The one, for that they were Books for the Simple People,
to make them understand the glory of the saints that were in heaven,
and a shape of them; to put us in remembrance to call upon them to
be our intercessors unto GOD for us: for that we are such miserable
sinners that we are not worthy to appear before GOD; and that using
devotion to saints in heaven, they may obtain at GOD's hands, the
sooner, the thing that we demand of Him. As, for example," he said,
"imagine that a subject hath offended his King upon the earth in any
kind of respect; is it for the party to go boldly to the King in
person, and to demand pardon for his offences? No," saith he, "the
presumption were too great; and possibly he might be repulsed, and have
a great rebuke for his labour. Better it is for such a person to seek
some private man near the King in his Court, and to make him acquainted
with this matter, and let him be a mediator to His Majesty for him
and for the matter he had to do with him; and so might he the better
come to his purpose, and obtain the thing which he doth demand. Even
so," saith he, "it is with GOD and His saints in heaven. For we are
wretched sinners; and not worthy to appear or present ourselves before
the Majesty of GOD, to demand of Him the thing that we have need of:
therefore thou hast need to be devout! and have devotion to the mother
of God, and the saints in heaven, to be intercessors to GOD for thee!
and so mayest thou the better obtain of GOD, the thing that thou dost
demand!"
To this I answered, "Sir, as touching the comparison you made of the
intercessors to the King, how necessary they were, I would but ask of
you this question. Set the case, that this King you speak of, if he be
so merciful as when he knoweth that one or any of his subjects hath
offended him; he send for him to his own town, or to his own house or
place, and say unto him, 'Come hither! I know that thou hast offended
many laws! if thou dost know thereof, and dost repent thee of the same,
with full intent to offend no more, I will forgive thee thy trespass,
and remember it no more!'" Said I, "If this be done by the King's own
person, what then hath this man need go and seek friendship at any of
the King's private servants' hands; but go to the principal: seeing
that he is readier to forgive thee, than thou art to demand forgiveness
at his hands!"
"Even so is it, with our gracious GOD, who calleth and crieth out unto
us throughout all the world, by the mouth of His prophets and apostles;
and, by His own mouth, saith, 'Come unto me all ye that labour and are
over laden, and I will refresh you!' besides a thousand other offers
and proffers, which He doth make unto us in His Holy Scriptures. What
then have we need of the saints' help that are in heaven, whereas the
LORD Himself doth so freely offer Himself for us?"
At which sayings, many of the hearers were astonied, and said that, "By
that reason, I would give to understand that the Invocation of Saints
was to be disannulled, and by the laws of GOD not commanded."
I answered, "That they were not my words, but the words of GOD Himself.
Look into the Scriptures yourself, and you shall so find it!"
The talk was perceived to be prejudicial to the Romish doctrine; and
therefore it was commanded to be no more entreated of. And all remained
unthought upon, had it not been for a villainous Portuguese that was in
the company, who said, _Basta ser Ingles para saber todo esto y mas_,
who, the next day, without imparting anything to anybody, went to the
Bishop of MEXICO and his Provisor, and said, that "In a place where he
had been the day before was an Englishman, who had said that _there was
no need of Saints in the Church, nor of any Invocation of Saints_."
Upon whose denomination [_denouncement_], I was apprehended for the
same words here rehearsed, and none other thing; and thereupon was used
as hereafter is written.
So, apprehended, I was carried to prison, where I lay a close prisoner
seven months [_till July 1558_], without speaking to any creature, but
to the gaoler that kept the said prison, when he brought me my meat and
drink. In the meantime, was brought into the said prison, one AUGUSTINE
BOACIO, an Italian of Genoa, also for matters of religion; who was
taken at Zacatecas, eighty leagues to the north-westward of the city of
Mexico.
At the end of the said seven months [_i.e., in July 1558_], we were
both carried to the high Church of Mexico, to do an open penance upon
a high scaffold made before the high altar, upon a Sunday, in the
presence of a very great number of people; who were, at least, 5,000 or
6,000. For there were some that came one hundred miles off to see the
said _auto_, as they call it; for that there was never any before, that
had done the like in the said country: nor could tell what Lutherans
were, nor what it meant; for they never heard of any such thing before.
We were brought into the Church, every one with a _san benito_ upon his
back; which is, half a yard of yellow cloth, with a hole to put in a
man's head in the midst, and cast over a man's head: both flaps hang,
one before, and another behind; and in the midst of every flap a Saint
Andrew's cross, made of red cloth, and sewed in upon the same. And that
is called _San Benito_.
The common people, before they saw the penitents come into the Church,
were given to understand that we were heretics, infidels, and people
that did despise GOD and His works, and that we had been more like
devils than men; and thought we had had the favour [_appearance_] of
some monsters or heathen people: and when they saw us come into the
Church in our players' coats, the women and children began to cry out
and made such a noise, that it was strange to hear and see; saying,
that "They never saw goodlier men in all their lives; and that it was
not possible that there could be in us so much evil as was reported of
us; and that we were more like angels among men, than such persons of
such evil religion as by the priests and friars, we were reported to
be; and that it was a great pity that we should be so used for so small
an offence."
So that we were brought into the said high Church, and set upon the
scaffold which was made before the high altar, in the presence of all
the people, until _High Mass_ was done; and the Sermon made by a friar
concerning our matter: putting us in all the disgrace they could, to
cause the people not to take so much compassion upon us, for that "we
were heretics, and people seduced of the Devil, and had forsaken the
faith of the Catholic Church of Rome"; with divers other reproachful
words, which were too long to recite in this place.
_High Mass_ and Sermon being done; our offences (as they called them)
were recited, each man what he had said and done: and presently was the
sentence pronounced against us, that was that--
The said AUGUSTINE BOACIO was condemned to wear his _San Benito_
all the days of his life, and put into perpetual prison, where he
should fulfil the same; and all his goods confiscated and lost.
And I, the said TOMSON, to wear the _San Benito_ for three years;
and then to be set at liberty.
And for the accomplishing of this sentence or condemnation, we must
be presently sent down from Mexico to Vera Cruz, and from thence to
San Juan de Ulua, which was sixty-five leagues by land; and there
to be shipped for Spain, with straight commandment that, upon pain
of 1,000 ducats, every one of the Masters should look straightly
unto us, and carry us to Spain, and deliver us unto the Inquisitors
of the Holy House of Seville; that they should put us in the
places, where we should fulfil our penances that the Archbishop of
MEXICO had enjoined unto us, by his sentence there given.
For the performance of the which, we were sent down from Mexico to the
seaside, with fetters upon our feet; and there delivered to the Masters
of the ships to be carried for Spain, as is before said.
And it was so, that the Italian fearing that if he presented himself
in Spain before the Inquisitors, that they would have burnt him; to
prevent that danger, when we were coming homeward, and were arrived at
the island of Terceira, one of the isles of Azores, the first night
that we came to an anchor in the said port [_i.e., of Angra_], about
midnight, he found the means to get him naked out of the ship into the
sea, and swam naked ashore; and so presently got him to the further
side of the island, where he found a little caravel ready to depart for
Portugal. In the which he came to Lisbon; and passed into France, and
so into England; where he ended his life in the city of London.
And I, for my part, kept still aboard the ship, and came into Spain;
and was delivered to the Inquisitors of the Holy House of Seville,
where they kept me in close prison till I had fulfilled the three years
of my penance, [_i.e., till about 1561_].
Which time being expired, I was freely put out of prison, and set at
liberty.
Being in the city of Seville, a cashier of one HUGH TYPTON, an English
merchant of great doing, by the space of one year [_i.e., till about
1562_]; it fortuned that there came out of the city of Mexico, a
Spaniard, JUAN DE LA BARRERA, that had been long time in the Indies,
and had got great sums of gold and silver. He, with one only daughter,
shipped himself for to come to Spain; and, by the way, chanced to die,
and gave all that he had unto his only daughter, whose name was MARIA
DE LA BARRERA.
She having arrived at the city of Seville, it was my chance to marry
with her. The marriage was worth to me £2,500 [= £25,000 _now_] in bars
of gold and silver, besides jewels of great price. This I thought good
to speak of, to show the goodness of GOD to all them that trust in Him;
that I, being brought out of the Indies in such great misery and infamy
to the world, should be provided at GOD's hand, in one moment, of more
than in all my life before, I could attain unto by my own labour.
After we departed from Mexico, our _San Benitos_ were set up in the
high Church of the said city, with our names written in the same,
according to their use and custom; which is and will be a monument and
a remembrance of us, as long as the Romish Church doth reign in that
country. The same have been seen since, by one JOHN CHILTON; and divers
others of our nation, which were left in that country, long since
[_i.e., in October 1568_] by Sir JOHN HAWKINS.
_Lyrics, Elegies, &c. from Madrigals,_
_Canzonets, &c._
We purpose giving in the present Volume, all the printed Songs to
which music was set by JOHN DOWLAND, the Lutenist; of whom, probably,
BARNFIELD wrote the following lines, which first appeared in the
surreptitious Collection _the Passionate Pilgrim_, in 1599; but which
are usually included in SHAKESPEARE's _Works_:
If Music and sweet Poetry agree;
As they must needs, the sister and the brother:
Then must the love be great 'twixt thee and me!
Because thou lov'st the one; and I, the other.
DOWLAND to thee, is dear; whose heavenly touch
Upon the lute doth ravish human sense:
SPENSER, to me; whose deep conceit is such
As, passing all conceit, needs no defence.
Thou lov'st to hear the sweet melodious sound
That PHOEBUS's Lute, the Queen of Music, makes:
And I, in deep delight, am chiefly drowned
When as himself to singing he betakes.
One god is god of both, as Poets feign:
One knight loves both, and both in thee remain!
The other poems set to music by DOWLAND, will be found at _pp_.
519-534, 609-622, 644-656.
[Illustration]
JOHN DOWLAND, Bachelor of Music.
THE FIRST BOOK OF SONGS OR AIRS.
1597.
[Illustration]
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
SIR GEORGE CAREY,
OF THE NOBLE ORDER OF THE GARTER, KNIGHT,
BARON OF HUNSDON, CAPTAIN OF HER MAJESTY'S
Gentlemen Pensioners, Governor of the Isle of Wight,
Lieutenant of the County of Southampton, Lord
Chamberlain of Her Majesty's most royal
House; and of Her Highness's most
honourable Privy Council.
_That harmony, Right Honourable! which is skilfully expressed
by instruments: albeit, by reason of the variety of number and
proportion of itself, it easily stirs up the minds of the hearers
to admiration and delight; yet for higher authority and power, hath
been ever worthily attributed to that kind of music which to
the sweetness of [the] instrument applies the lively voice of man,
expressing some worthy sentence, or excellent poem. Hence, as all
antiquity can witness, first grew the heavenly Art of Music: for
LINUS, ORPHEUS, and the rest, according to the number and time of
their Poems, first framed the numbers and times of Music. So that
PLATO defines Melody to consist of Harmony, Number, and Words:
Harmony, naked of itself; Words, the ornament of Harmony; Number, the
common friend and writer of them both._
_This small book containing the consent of speaking harmony, joined
with the most musical instrument, the Lute, being my first labour,
I have presumed to dedicate to your Lordship: who, for your virtue
and nobility, are best able to protect it; and for your honourable
favours towards me, best deserving my duty and service. Besides,
your noble inclination and love to all good arts, and namely_
[particularly] _the divine science of Music, doth challenge the
Patronage of all Learning; than which no greater title can be added
to Nobility_.
_Neither in these your honours, may I let pass the dutiful remembrance
of your virtuous Lady, my honourable mistress, whose singular graces
towards me have added spirit to my unfortunate labours._
_What time and diligence I have bestowed in the Search of Music,
what travels in foreign countries, what success and estimation, even
among strangers, I have found, I leave to the report of others.
Yet all this in vain, were it not that your honourable hands have
vouchsafed to uphold my poor fortunes: which I now wholly recommend
to your gracious protection, with these my first endeavours, humbly
beseeching you to accept and cherish the same with your continued
favours._
_Your Lordship's most humble servant,_
_+JOHN DOWLAND.+_
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
To the Courteous Reader.
How hard an enterprise it is, in this skilful and curious Age, to
commit our private labours to the public view, mine own disability and
others' hard success do too well assure me: and were it not for that
love [which] I bear to the true lovers of music, I had concealed these
my first fruits; which how they will thrive with your taste I know
not, howsoever the greater part of them might have been ripe enough by
their age. The Courtly judgement, I hope will not be severe against
them, being itself a party; and those sweet Springs of Humanity, I
mean our two famous Universities, will entertain them for his sake
whom they have already graced, and, as it were, enfranchised in the
ingenuous profession of Music: which, from my childhood I have ever
aimed at, sundry times leaving my native country, the better to attain
so excellent a science.
About sixteen years past [_i.e., in 1580_], I travelled the chiefest
parts of France, a nation furnished with great variety of Music; but
lately, being of a more confirmed judgement, I bent my course towards
the famous provinces of Germany, where I found both excellent Masters,
and most honourable patrons of music, namely, those two miracles of
this Age for virtue and magnificence, HENRY JULIO, Duke of Brunswick,
and the learned MAURICE, Landgrave of Hesse; of whose princely virtues
and favours towards me, I can never speak sufficiently. Neither can
I forget the kindness of ALEXANDRO HOROLOGIO, a right learned master
of music, servant to the royal Prince, the Landgrave of Hesse, and
GREGORIO HOWET, Lutenist to the magnificent Duke of Brunswick; both
[of] whom I name, as well for their love to me as also for their
excellency in their faculties.
Thus having spent some months in Germany, to my great admiration of
that worthy country; I passed over the Alps into Italy, where I found
the Cities furnished with all good arts, but especially music. What
favour and estimation I had in Venice, Padua, Genoa, Ferrara, Florence,
and divers other places, I willingly suppress; lest I should, [in] any
way, seem partial in mine own endeavours. Yet I cannot dissemble the
great content I found in the proffered amity of the most famous LUCA
MARENZIO, whose sundry letters I received from Rome; and one of them,
because it is but short, I have thought good to set down, not thinking
it any disgrace to be proud of the judgement of so excellent a man.
_Molto magnifico Signior mio osservandissimo._
_Per una lettera del Signior ALBERIGO MALVEZI ho inteso quanto
con cortese affeto si mostri desideroso di essermi congionto_
_d'amicitia, dove infinitamente la ringratio di questo suo
buon'animo, offerendomegli all'incontro se in alcuna cosa la
posso servire, poi che gli meriti delle sue infinite virtù, e
qualità meritano che ogni uno e me l'ammirino e osservino, e per
fine di questo le bascio le mani. Di Roma, a' 13. di Luglio.
1595._
_D.V.S. Affettionatissimo servitore_,
+_LUCA MARENZIO_+.
Not to stand too long upon my travels: I will only name that worthy
Master, GIOVANNI CROCHIO, Vice-master of the Chapel of Saint Mark's in
Venice; with whom I had familiar conference.
And thus what experience I could gather abroad; I am now ready to
practice at home, if I may but find encouragement in my first assays.
There have been divers Lute Lessons of mine lately printed without my
knowledge, false and imperfect: but I purpose shortly myself to set
forth the choicest of all my Lessons in print, and also an Introduction
for Fingering; with other _Books of Songs_, whereof this is the first.
And as this finds favour with you, so shall I be affected to labour in
the rest. Farewell!
+JOHN DOWLAND.+
[Illustration]
+THOMÆ CAMPIANI.+
_Epigramma._ De instituto authoris.
_Famam, posteritas quam dedit ORPHEO._
_Dolandi melius MUSICA dat sibi,_
_Fugaces reprimens archetypis sonos;_
_Quas et delitias præbuit auribus,_
_Ipsis conspicuas luminibus facit._
[Illustration]
_Lyrics, Elegies, &c. from Madrigals, Canzonets, &c._
[Illustration]
JOHN DOWLAND.
THE FIRST BOOK OF SONGS OR AIRS
Unquiet thoughts! your civil slaughter stint!
And wrap your wrongs within a pensive heart!
And you, my tongue! that makes my mouth a mint,
And stamps my thoughts, to coin them words by art,
Be still! For if you ever do the like,
I'll cut the string, that makes the hammer strike!
But what can stay my thoughts, they may not start?
Or put my tongue in durance for to die?
When as these eyes, the keys of mouth and heart
Open the lock, where all my love doth lie.
I'll seal them up within their lids for ever!
So thoughts and words and looks shall die together.
How shall I then gaze on my mistress' eyes?
My thoughts must have some vent, else heart will break.
My tongue would rust, as in my mouth it lies;
If eyes and thoughts were free, and that not speak.
Speak then! and tell the passions of Desire!
Which turns mine eyes to floods, my thoughts to fire.
* * * * *
Whoever thinks, or hopes of love for love?
Or who beloved, in CUPID's laws doth glory?
Who joys in vows, or vows not to remove:
Who, by this light god, hath not been made sorry?
Let him see me! eclipsed from my sun;
With dark clouds of an earth, quite overrun.
Who thinks that sorrows felt, desires hidden,
Or humble faith in constant honour armed,
Can keep love from the fruit that is forbidden?
Who thinks that change is by entreaty charmed?
Looking on me; let him know Love's delights
Are treasures hid in caves, but kept by sprites!
* * * * *
My Thoughts are winged with Hopes, my Hopes with Love.
Mount Love unto the moon in clearest night!
And say, "As she doth in the heavens move,
In earth so wanes and waxeth my delight."
And whisper this, but softly, in her ears!
"Hope oft doth hang the head, and Trust shed tears."
And you, my Thoughts, that some mistrust do carry!
If for mistrust, my mistress do you blame,
Say, "Though you alter, yet you do not vary
As she doth change; and yet remain the same:
Distrust doth enter hearts, but not infect;
And love is sweetest, seasoned with suspect."
If she for this, with clouds do mask her eyes,
And make the heavens dark with her disdain;
With windy sighs disperse them in the skies!
Or with thy tears dissolve them into rain!
Thoughts, Hopes, and Love return to me no more,
Till CYNTHIA shine, as she hath done before!
* * * * *
If My complaints could passions move,
Or make LOVE see wherein I suffer wrong;
My passions were enough to prove
That my despairs had governed me too long.
O LOVE, I live and die in thee!
Thy wounds do freshly bleed in me!
Thy grief in my deep sighs still speaks,
Yet thou dost hope when I despair!
My heart for thy unkindness breaks!
Thou say'st, "Thou can'st my harms repair."
And when I hope: thou mak'st me hope in vain!
Yet for redress, thou let'st me still complain!
Can LOVE be rich, and yet I want?
Is LOVE my judge, and yet am I condemned?
Thou plenty hast, yet me dost scant!
Thou made a god, and yet thy power contemned!
That I do live, it is thy power!
That I desire, it is thy worth!
If love doth make men's lives too sour,
Let me not love, nor live henceforth!
Die shall my hopes, but not my faith,
That you, that of my fall may hearers be,
May hear Despair, which truly saith,
"I was more true to LOVE, than LOVE to me."
* * * * *
Can she excuse my wrongs with virtue's cloak?
Shall I call her good, when she proves unkind?
Are those clear fires, which vanish into smoke?
Must I praise the leaves, where no fruit I find?
No! No! Where shadows do for bodies stand,
Thou may'st be abused, if thy sight be dim.
Cold love is like to words written on sand;
Or to bubbles, which on the water swim.
Wilt thou be abused still,
Seeing that she will right thee never?
If thou can'st not o'ercome her will,
Thy love will be thus fruitless ever!
Was I so base, that I might not aspire,
Unto those high joys, which she holds from me?
As they are high, so high is my desire,
If she this deny, what can granted be?
If she will yield to that which reason is,
It is Reason's will, that Love should be just.
Dear! make me happy still, by granting this,
Or cut off delays, if that die I must!
Better a thousand times to die,
Than for to live thus still tormented:
Dear! but remember it was I,
Who, for thy sake, did die contented.
* * * * *
Now, O now, I needs must part,
Parting, though I absent mourn;
Absence can no joy impart,
Joy once fled, cannot return.
While I live, I needs must love,
Love lives not, when hope is gone.
Now at last despair doth prove
Love divided, loveth none.
Sad despair doth drive me hence,
This despair, unkindness sends;
If that parting be offence,
It is she which then offends.
Dear! when I from thee am gone,
Gone are all my joys at once.
I loved thee, and thee alone!
In whose love I joyed once:
And although your sight I leave,
Sight wherein my joys do lie;
Till that death do sense bereave,
Never shall affection die!
Sad despair doth drive me hence, _&c._
Dear! if I do not return,
Love and I shall die together.
For my absence never mourn!
Whom you might have joyed ever.
Part we must, though now I die,
Die I do, to part with you:
Him despair doth cause to lie
Who both lived and dieth true.
Sad despair doth drive me hence, _&c._
* * * * *
Dear, if you change! I'll never choose again.
Sweet, if you shrink! I'll never think of love.
Fair, if you fail! I'll judge all beauty vain.
Wise, if too weak! more wits I'll never prove.
Dear! sweet! fair! wise! change, shrink, nor be not weak;
And, on my faith! my faith shall never break.
Earth with her flowers shall sooner heaven adorn;
Heaven her bright stars, through earth's dim globe shall move.
Fire, heat shall lose; and frosts, of flames be born;
Air made to shine, as black as hell shall prove:
Earth, heaven, fire, air, the world transformed shall view,
Ere I prove false to faith, or strange to you!
* * * * *
Burst forth my tears! Assist my forward grief!
And show what pain, imperious love provokes!
Kind tender lambs, lament love's scant relief,
And pine, since pensive care my freedom yokes.
O pine to see me pine, my tender flocks!
Sad pining Care, that never may have peace,
At Beauty's gate, in hope of pity knocks;
And Mercy sleeps while deep disdains increase;
And Beauty, hope in her fair bosom yokes,
O grieve to hear my grief, my tender flocks!
Like to the winds, my sighs have wingèd been,
Yet are my sighs and suits repaid with mocks;
I plead, yet she repineth at my teen.
O ruthless rigour! harder than the rocks!
That both the shepherd kills, and his poor flocks.
* * * * *
O Crystal tears! like to the morning showers.
And sweetly weep into thy lady's breast!
And as the dews revive the drooping flowers,
So let your drops of pity be addresst!
To quicken up the thoughts of my desert.
Which sleeps too sound; whilst I from her depart.