informed, and that too truly, that Our County of Lancashire abounded
more in Popish Recusants than any county in England; and thus hath
still continued since, to our great regret, with little amendment, save
that now, of late, in our last riding through Our said County, We find,
both by the report of the Judges, and of the Bishops of that diocese,
that there is some amendment now daily beginning, which is no small
contentment to Us.
The report of this growing amendment amongst them, made Us the more
sorry, when, with Our own ears, We heard the general complaint of
Our people, that they were barred from all lawful recreation and
exercise upon the Sunday's afternoon, after the ending of all Divine
Service. Which cannot but produce two evils. The one, the hindering
of the conversion of many whom their priests will take occasion
hereby to vex; persuading them that "no honest mirth or recreation is
lawful or tolerable in Our Religion!" which cannot but breed a great
discontentment in Our people's hearts; especially of such as are,
peradventure, upon the point of turning. The other inconvenience is,
that this prohibition barreth the common and meaner sort of people from
using such exercises as may make their bodies more able for war, when
We, or Our Successors shall have occasion to use them: and in place
thereof sets up filthy tiplings and drunkenness, and breeds a number of
idle and discontented speeches in their alehouses. For when shall the
common people have leave to exercise, if not upon the Sundays and Holy
Days? seeing they must apply their labour, and win their living in all
working days!
Our express pleasure therefore is, _That the Laws of Our Kingdom, and
Canons of Our Church be as well observed in that County, as in all
other places of this Our Kingdom. And, on the other part, that no
lawful recreation shall be barred to our good people, which shall not
tend to the breach of Our aforesaid Laws, and Canons of Our Church._
Which to express more particularly,
Our Pleasure is, _That the Bishop and all other inferior Churchmen_
[Clergy], _and Churchwardens shall, for their parts, be careful and
diligent, both to instruct the ignorant, and convince and reform
them that are misled in religion, presenting_ [_i.e._, reporting for
punishment] _them that will not conform themselves, but obstinately
stand out to Our Judges and Justices: whom, We likewise command to
put the law in due execution against them_.
Our Pleasure likewise is, _That the Bishop of that diocese take the
like strait order with all the Puritans and Precisians within the
same: either constraining them to conform themselves, or to leave
the country, according to the Laws of Our Kingdom and Canons of Our
Church_. And so to strike equally on both hands against the Contemners
of Our Authority, and Adversaries of Our Church.
And as for Our good people's lawful recreation; Our Pleasure likewise
is, _That after the end of Divine Service, Our good people be not
disturbed, letted, or discouraged from any lawful recreation, such as
Dancing (either men or women), Archery for men, Leaping, Vaulting, or
any other such harmless recreations; nor from having of May Games,
Whitsun Ales, and Morris Dances; and the setting up of May Poles,
and other sports therewith used: so as the same be had in due and
convenient time, without impediment or neglect of Divine Service_.
And, _That women shall have leave to carry rushes to the church for
the decoring_ [decorating] _of it, according to their old custom_.
But withal, _We do here account still as prohibited, all unlawful
games, to be used upon Sundays only; as Bear and Bull baitings,
Interludes: and, at all times, in the meaner sort of people by Law
prohibited, Bowling_.
And, likewise, _We bar from this benefit and liberty, all such known
Recusants, either men or women, as will abstain from coming to Church
or Divine Service_: being, therefore, unworthy of any lawful recreation
after the said Service, that will not first come to the Church, and
serve GOD.
_Prohibiting, in like sort, the said recreation to any that, though
conforme_ [conformable] _in Religion, are not present in the Church,
at the Service of GOD, before their going to the said recreations_.
Our Pleasure likewise is, _That they to whom it belongeth in Office,
shall present, and sharply punish all such, as in abuse of this
Our liberty, will use these exercises before the ends of all Divine
Services for that day_.
And We, likewise, straitly command, _That every person shall resort
to his own Parish Church to hear Divine Service; and each Parish, by
itself, to use the said recreation after Divine Service_. Prohibiting
likewise, _Any offensive weapons to be carried or used in the said
times of recreation_.
And Our Pleasure is, _That this Our Declaration shall be published
by order from the Bishop of the diocese, through all the Parish
Churches; and that both Our Judges of Our Circuit, and Our Justices
of Our Peace be informed thereof_.
Given at Our Manor of Greenwich, the four and twentieth day of May
[1618] in the sixteenth year of Our reign of England, France, and
Ireland; and of Scotland, the one and fiftieth.
GOD save the King!
[Illustration]
THE KING's
MAJESTY's
DECLARATION to His
Subjects,
CONCERNING
lawful SPORTS to
be used.
[Illustration]
Imprinted at LONDON by
ROBERT BARKER, Printer to the King's most excellent
Majesty: and by the Assigns of JOHN BILL.
M.DC.XXXIII.
[CHARLES I.'s Preface and Conclusion.]
_Our dear Father, of blessed memory, in his return from Scotland,
coming through Lancashire found that his subjects were debarred from
lawful recreations upon Sundays, after Evening Prayers ended, and
upon Holy Days: and he prudently considered, that if these times
were taken from them, the meaner sort, who labour hard all the week,
should have no recreations at all to refresh their spirits._
_And, after his return, he further saw that his loyal subjects in
all other parts of his kingdom did suffer in the same kind, though
perhaps not in the same degree. And did therefore, in his Princely
wisdom, publish a_ Declaration to all his loving Subjects concerning
the lawful Sports to be used _at such times; which was printed and
published, by his royal commandment, in the year 1618, in the tenour
which hereafter followeth_.
* * * * *
_Now, out of a like pious care for the service of GOD, and for
suppressing of any humours that oppose Truth, and for the ease,
comfort, and recreation of our well deserving people: We do ratify
and publish this Our blessed father's_ Declaration. _The rather
because, of late, in some counties of Our kingdom, We find that,
under pretence of taking away abuses, there hath been a general
Forbidding, not only of ordinary meetings, but of the Feasts of the
Dedication of the Churches, commonly called Wakes_.
_Now, Our express Will and Pleasure is, that these Feasts, with
others, shall be observed; and that Our Justices of the Peace, in
their several divisions, shall look to it, both, that all disorders
there, may be prevented or punished; and that all neighbourhood and
freedom, with manlike and lawful exercises be used._
_And We further Command Our Justices of Assize, in their several
circuits, to see that no man do trouble or molest any of Our loyal or
dutiful people in or for their lawful recreations; having first done
their duty to GOD, and continuing in obedience to Us and Our Laws.
And of this, We command all Our Judges, Justices of the Peace, as
well within Liberties as without, Mayors, Bailiffs, Constables, and
other Officers to take notice of; and to see observed, as they tender
Our displeasure. And We further will, that publication of this Our
Command be made, by order from the Bishops, through all the Parish
Churches of their several diocese respectively._
_Given at Our Palace of Westminster, the 18th day of October [1633],
in the ninth year of Our reign._ GOD save the King!
_Lyrics, Elegies, &c. from Madrigals,_
_Canzonets, &c._
JOHN DOWLAND, Bachelor of Music, &c., and
Lutenist to CHRISTIAN IV., King of Denmark.
THE SECOND BOOK OF SONGS OR AIRS.
1600.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE, THE
LADY LUCY, COUNTESS OF BEDFORD.
_Excellent Lady! I send unto your Ladyship from the Court of
a foreign Prince, this Volume of my Second Labours, as to the
worthiest Patroness of Music; which is the noblest of all sciences.
For the whole frame of Nature is nothing but Harmony, as well in
souls, as [in] bodies. And because I am now removed from your
sight, I will speak boldly; that your Ladyship shall be unthankful to
Nature herself, if you do not love and defend that Art, by which she
hath given you so well tuned a mind!_
_Your Ladyship hath in yourself, an excellent agreement of many
virtues; of which, though I admire all, yet I am bound by my
profession, to give especial honour to your knowledge of Music:
which, in the judgement of ancient times, was so proper an excellency
in women, that the Muses took their name from it; and yet so rare,
that the world durst imagine but Nine of them._
_I most humbly beseech your Ladyship to receive this work into your
favour; and the rather, because it cometh far, to beg it of you._
_From Elsinore in Denmark, the first of June, 1600._
_Your Ladyship's, in all humble devotion_,
_JOHN DOWLAND_.
[Illustration]
To the Right Noble and Virtuous Lady
LUCY, Countess of BEDFORD,
G[EORGE]. EASTLAND.
_To J. DOWLAND's Lute._
_=L= ute! Arise, and charm the air,_
_=U= ntil a thousand forms she bear!_
_=C= onjure them all, that they repair_
_=I= nto the circles of her car;_
_=E= ver to dwell in concord there!_
_=B= y this, thy tunes may have access_
_=E= ven to her spirit, whose flowing treasure_
_=D= oth sweetest harmony express;_
_=F= illing all ears and hearts with pleasure:_
_=O= n earth, observing heavenly measure._
_=R= ight well can she judge and defend them!_
_=D= oubt not of that, for she can mend them!_
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
To the Courteous Reader.
GENTLEMEN,
If the consideration of mine own estate, or the true worth of money had
prevailed with me above the desire of pleasuring you and shewing my
love to my friend, these Second Labours of Master DOWLAND--whose very
name is a large Preface of commendations to the book--had for ever lain
hid in darkness, or at the least frozen in a cold and foreign country.
I assure you that both my charge and pains in publishing it, hath
exceeded ordinary [ones]: yet thus much I have to assure me of
requital, that neither the work is ordinary; nor are your judgements
ordinary, to whom I present it! so that I have no reason but to hope
for good increase in my labours, especially of your good favours
towards me; which of all things I most esteem. Which if I find in this,
I mean shortly, GOD willing, to set at liberty for your service, a
prisoner taken at Cadiz: who, if he discovers not something, in [the]
matter of music, worthy [of] your knowledge; let the reputation of my
judgement in music answer [for] it!
In the meantime, I commend my absent friend to your remembrance! and
myself, to your favourable conceits!
_GEORGE EASTLAND._
From my house near _The Green Dragon and Sword_,
in Fleet Street.
[Illustration]
_Lyrics, Elegies, &c. from Madrigals, Canzonets, &c._
JOHN DOWLAND.
THE SECOND BOOK OF SONGS OR AIRS.
_To the most famous ANTHONY HOLBORNE._
I saw my Lady weep!
And Sorrow proud! to be advancèd so
In those fair eyes, where all perfections keep.
Her face was full of woe!
But such a woe (believe me!) as wins more hearts
Than Mirth can do, with her enticing parts.
Sorrow was there made fair!
And Passion, wise! Tears, a delightful thing!
Silence, beyond all speech, a wisdom rare!
She made her sighs to sing,
And all things with so sweet a sadness move;
As made my heart at once both grieve and love.
O Fairer than ought else
The world can shew! leave off, in time, to grieve!
Enough, enough! Your joyful look excels!
Tears kill the heart, believe!
O strive not to be excellent in woe,
Which only breeds your beauty's overthrow!
_Lacrimæ._
Flow, my tears! fall from your springs!
Exiled for ever, let me mourn
Where night's black bird, her sad infamy sings!
There, let me live forlorn!
Never may my woes be relieved, since pity is fled;
And tears, and sighs, and groans, my weary days, of all joys, have
deprivèd.
Down vain lights! Shine you no more!
No nights are dark enough for those,
That in despair, their last fortunes deplore.
Light doth but shame disclose!
From the highest spire of contentment, my fortune is thrown;
And fear, and grief, and pain, for my deserts, are my hopes; since
hope is gone.
Hark, you shadows! that in darkness dwell,
Learn to contemn light!
Happy! happy they, that, in hell,
Feel not the world's despite!
* * * * *
Sorrow! Sorrow, stay! Lend true repentant tears
To a woful wretched wight!
Hence! hence, Despair! with thy tormenting fears.
O do not, my poor heart affright!
Pity! Pity, help now, or never! Mark me not to endless pain!
Alas, I am condemnèd ever, no hope there doth remain,
But down, down, down, down I fall;
And arise, I never shall.
* * * * *
"Die not before thy day! poor man condemned!
But lift thy low looks from th' humble earth!
Kiss not Despair, and see sweet Hope contemned!
The hag hath no delight, but moan for mirth!
O fie, poor fondling! fie, be willing
To preserve thyself from killing!
Hope, thy keeper, glad to free thee,
Bids thee go! and will not see thee.
Hie thee, quickly, from thy wrong!"
So She ends her willing song.
* * * * *
Mourn! Day is with darkness fled!
What heaven then governs earth?
O none, but hell, in heaven's stead,
Chokes with his mists, our mirth.
Mourn! Look, now, for no more day!
Nor night, but that from hell!
Then all must, as they may,
In darkness learn to dwell!
But yet this change must change our delight,
That thus the Sun should harbour with the Night.
* * * * *
Time's eldest son, Old Age (the Heir of Ease,
Strength's Foe, Love's Woe, and Foster to Devotion)
Bids gallant Youth in martial prowess please!
As for himself, he hath no earthly motion;
But thinks Sighs, Tears, Vows, Prayers, and Sacrifices,
As good as Shows, Masks, Jousts, or Tilt devices.
Then sit thee down! and say thy _Nunc dimitis_!
With _De profundis_, _Credo_, and _Te DEUM_!
Chant _Miserere_, for what now so fit is
As that, or this, _Paratum est cor meum_!
O that thy Saint would take in worth thy heart!
Thou canst not please her with a better part.
When others sing _Venite exultemus_!
Stand by, and turn to _Noli emulari_!
For _Quare fremuerunt_, use _Oremus_!
_Vivat ELIZA!_ for an _Ave MARI_!
And teach those Swains that live about thy cell;
To sing _Amen_, when thou dost pray so well!
* * * * *
Praise blindness, Eyes! for seeing is deceit.
Be dumb, vain Tongue! words are but flattering winds.
Break Heart, and bleed! for there is no receipt
To purge inconstancy from most men's minds.
And so I waked amazed, and could not move;
I know my dream was true, and yet I love!
And if thine Ears, false heralds to thy heart,
Convey into thy head, hopes to obtain;
Then tell thy hearing, thou art deaf by Art!
Now, Love is Art; that wonted to be plain.
And so I waked amazed, and could not move;
I know my dream was true, and yet I love!
Now none is bald, except they see his brains!
Affection is not known, till one be dead!
Reward for love, are labours for his pains!
Love's quiver made of gold, his shafts of lead.
And so I waked amazed, and could not move;
I know my dream was true, and yet I love!
_To Master HUGH HOLLAND._
From Fame's desire, from Love's delight retired;
In these sad groves, an hermit's life I lead:
And those false pleasures, which I once admired,
With sad remembrance of my fall, I dread.
To birds, to trees, to earth, impart I this;
For she less secret, and as senseless is!
O sweet woods! the delight of solitariness!
O how much do I love your solitariness!
Experience which repentance only brings,
Doth bid me, now, my heart from Love estrange!
Love is disdained, when it doth look at kings;
And Love low placed, base and apt to change.
There, Power doth take from him his liberty!
Her Want of Worth makes him in cradle die!
O sweet woods! the delight of solitariness!
O how much do I love your solitariness!
You men that give false worship unto Love,
And seek that which you never shall obtain;
The endless work of SISYPHUS you procure!
Whose end is this, to know you strive in vain.
Hope and Desire, which now your idols be!
You needs must lose, and feel Despair with me!
O sweet woods! the delight of solitariness!
O how much do I love your solitariness!
You woods! in you, the fairest Nymphs have walked!
Nymphs, at whose sights all hearts did yield to love.
You woods! in whom dear lovers oft have talked,
How do you now a place of mourning prove?
WANSTED, my Mistress, saith, "This is the doom!
Thou art Love's childbed! nursery! and tomb!"
O sweet woods! the delight of solitariness!
O how much do I love your solitariness!
* * * * *
Fine knacks for ladies! cheap! choice! brave! and new!
Good pennyworths! but money cannot move!
I keep a fair, but for the Fair to view!
A beggar may be liberal of love.
Though all my wares be trash, the heart is true,
The heart is true,
The heart is true.
Great gifts are guiles, and look for gifts again,
My trifles come, as treasures from my mind!
It is a precious jewel to be plain!
Sometimes in shell, th' orientest pearls we find.
Of others, take a sheaf! of me, a grain!
Of me, a grain!
Of me, a grain!
Within this pack, pins! paints! laces! and gloves!
And divers toys fitting a country fair!
But my heart, where duty serves and loves,
Turtles and twins! Court's brood! a heavenly pair!
Happy the heart that thinks of no removes!
Of no removes!
Of no removes!
* * * * *
Now cease my wand'ring eyes,
Strange beauties to admire!
In change least comfort lies.
Long joys yield long desire.
One faith, one love,
Make our frail pleasures eternal, and in sweetness prove!
New hopes, new joys
Are still, with sorrow, declining unto deep annoys.
One man hath but one soul
Which Art cannot divide;
If all one soul must love,
Two loves must be denied!
One soul, one love,
By faith and merit united, cannot remove!
Distracted spirits
Are ever changing, and hapless in their delights.
Nature, two eyes hath given,
All beauty to impart,
As well in earth as heaven:
But She hath given one heart!
That though we see,
Ten thousand beauties, yet in us One should be!
One stedfast love!
Because our hearts stand fixed, although our eyes do move.
* * * * *
Come, ye heavy States of Night!
Do my father's spirit right;
Soundings baleful, let me borrow,
Burthening my song with sorrow.
Come Sorrow, come! Her eyes that sings,
By thee, are turnèd into springs.
Come, You Virgins of the Night,
That, in dirges' sad delight!
Quire my anthems! I do borrow
Gold nor pearl, but sounds of sorrow!
Come Sorrow, come! Her eyes that sings,
By thee, are turnèd into springs.
* * * * *
White as lilies was her face!
When She smiled,
She beguiled!
Quitting faith, with foul disgrace.
Virtue, Service, thus neglected,
Heart with sorrows hath infected.
When I swore my heart her own,
She disdained!
I complained,
Yet She left me overthrown!
Careless of my bitter groaning,
Ruthless, bent to no relieving.
Vows, and oaths, and faith assured,
Constant ever,
Changing never;
Yet She could not be procurèd,
To believe my pains exceeding!
From her scant neglect proceeding.
O that Love should have the art,
By surmises,
And disguises,
To destroy a faithful heart!
Or that wanton looking women,
Should reward their friends, as foemen!
All in vain, is Ladies' love;
Quickly choosèd,
Shortly losèd.
For their pride is to remove!
Out, alas! Their looks first won us,
And their pride hath straight undone us!
To thyself, the sweetest Fair!
Thou hast wounded,
And confounded
Changeless Faith, with foul Despair!
And my service hath envièd;
And my succours hath denièd!
By thine error, thou hast lost
Heart unfeignèd,
Truth unstainèd;
And the Swain, that lovèd most:
More assured in love than many,
More despised in love than any.
For my heart, though set at nought;
Since you will it,
Spoil and kill it!
I will never change my thoughts!
But grieve that Beauty e'er was born.
[? But grieve that Beauty e'er was born.]
* * * * *
Woful Heart, with grief oppressèd!
Since my fortunes most distressèd,
From my joys hath me removed.
Follow those sweet eyes adorèd!
Those sweet eyes, wherein are storèd,
All my pleasures best beloved.
Fly, my Breast! Leave me forsaken!
Wherein Grief his seat hath taken;
All his arrows through me darting.
Thou mayest live by her sunshining!
I shall suffer no more pining
By thy loss, than by her parting.
* * * * *
A shepherd in a shade, his plaining made
Of love, and lover's wrong,
Unto the fairest Lass, that trode on grass,
And thus began his song:
"Since Love and Fortune will, I honour still
Your fair and lovely eye!
What conquest will it be, sweet Nymph! for thee!
If I, for sorrow die?
Restore! restore, my heart again!
Which love, by thy sweet looks hath slain!
Lest that, enforced by your disdain,
I sing 'Fie on love! it is a foolish thing!'
"My heart where have you laid, O cruel Maid!
To kill, when you might save!
Why have ye cast it forth, as nothing worth,
Without a tomb, or grave?
O let it be entombed, and lie
In your sweet mind and memory!
Lest I resound on every warbling string,
'Fie! fie on love! that is a foolish thing!'
Restore! restore, my heart again!
Which love, by thy sweet looks hath slain!
Lest that, enforced by your disdain,
I sing 'Fie on love! it is a foolish thing!'"
* * * * *
Shall I sue? shall I seek for grace?
Shall I pray? shall I prove?
Shall I strive to a heavenly joy,
With an earthly love?
Shall I think that a bleeding heart,
Or a wounded eye,
Or a sigh, can ascend the clouds,
To attain so high?
Silly wretch! Forsake these dreams
Of a vain Desire!
O bethink what high regard,
Holy hopes do require!
Favour is as fair as things are!
Treasure is not bought!
Favour is not won with words,
Nor the wish of a thought.
Pity is but a poor defence
For a dying heart:
Ladies' eyes respect no moan
In a mean desert.
She is too worthy far,
For a worth so base!
Cruel, and but just is She,
In my just disgrace.
Justice gives each man his own.
Though my love be just,
Yet will not She pity my grief!
Therefore die I must!
Silly heart! then yield to die!
Perish in despair!
Witness yet, how fain I die,
When I die for the Fair!
* * * * *
Toss not my soul, O LOVE! 'twixt hope and fear!
Show me some ground where I may firmly stand,
Or surely fall! I care not which appear!
So one will close me in a certain band.
When once of ill, the uttermost is known;
The strength of sorrow quite is overthrown!
Take me, ASSURANCE! to thy blissful hold!
Or thou, DESPAIR! unto thy darkest cell!
Each hath full rest! The one, in joys enroll'd:
Th' other, in that he fears no more, is well.
When once the uttermost of ill is known,
The strength of sorrow quite is overthrown!
* * * * *
Clear or cloudy, sweet as April show'ring,
Smooth or frowning, so is her Face to me.
Pleased or smiling, like mild May all flow'ring:
When skies, blue silk, and meadows, carpets be.
Her Speeches, notes of that night bird that singeth,
Who, thought all sweet, yet jarring notes outringeth.
Her Grace, like June, when earth and trees be trimmed
In best attire, of complete beauty's height.
Her Love again, like Summer's days be dimmed,
With little clouds of doubtful constant faith.
Her Trust, her Doubt, like rain and heat in skies;
Gently thund'ring, She light'ning to mine eyes.
Sweet Summer! Spring! that breatheth life and growing
In weeds, as into herbs and flowers;
And sees of service, divers sorts in sowing,
Some haply seeming, and some being yours:
Rain on your herbs and flowers that truly seem!
And let your weeds lack dew, and duly starve!
_A Dialogue._
Humour, say! What mak'st thou here
In presence of a Queen?
Thou art a heavy leaden mood!
_Chorus._ But never Humour yet was true,
But that which only pleaseth you!
Princes hold conceit most dear,
All conceit in Humour seen;
Humour is Invention's food.
_Chorus._ But never Humour yet was true,
But that which only pleaseth you!
O, I am as heavy as earth,
Say, then, who is Humour now?
Why, then, 'tis I am drowned in woe?
_Chorus._ But never Humour yet was true,
But that which only pleaseth you!
I am now inclined to mirth,
Humour I, as well as thou!
No, no Wit is cherished so.
_Chorus._ But never Humour yet was true,
But that which only pleaseth you!
Mirth, then, is drowned in Sorrow's brim.
No, no, fool! The light things swim;
Heavy things sink to the deep!