♦ Programme notes
Considering Purcell’s enduring reputation for vocal music, it seems strange that so little of it is performed.
Dido & Aeneas, King Arthur, The Fairy Queen, certain church anthems and a handful of songs are, admittedly, well
known; but most of the composer’s vocal pieces languish unheard. It’s a pity – in their character and crafting, each is
reminiscent of a finely cut diamond, possessing both great beauty and great value.
Although some of tonight’s Choicest Songs originated as theatre music, for the most part these duets and
dialogues are stand-alone pieces intended for domestic use, collected together and published posthumously in the twovolume Orpheus Britannicus. All but two of the works in tonight’s programme (the exceptions being the cantata “See
where she sits” and the Sonata in F) appear in the third and final 1721 edition of Orpheus Britannicus, volume one
having been previously printed in 1698 & 1702, and volume two in 1702 & 1711. Seeing the music in its bare, original
form (with only the vocal lines and sparsely-figured ‘unrealised’ bass-line) is extremely useful to us as performers, but
it also poses some interesting questions and challenges. Because the facsimile edition is riddled with notational ‘errors’
(notes are often poorly aligned; the use of sharp (#) or flat (ь) signs instead of naturals ( ) can be misleading to
modern eyes; and the figures in the basso continuo part often contradict the harmonies implied in the vocal parts),
Pepe has embarked on a quest to transcribe and re-edit all the duets for this concert – a time-consuming but
worthwhile project!
This is something of a journey into unknown territory – even more so since we’ll be experimenting tonight
with late 17th Century English pronunciation. (Many thanks are due to Professor Robert Easting for guidance and
advice on this fascinating topic.) We understand that, for the most part, the language was fairly well modernized by
Purcell’s time, as ‘the great vowel shift’ had by then almost finished its course, progressing gradually from the more
pure-vowelled, rounded sounds of the Middle Ages into something resembling the sounds we hear today. However,
there are several clues to be found in the facsimile scores (for example, the spelling or rhyming-intent of words, and
even punctuation), that give great insight into the linguistic (and musical) style of the era, enabling us to give you a
flavour of what one might have heard in the great manor houses or theatres of England a few hundred years ago.
You might very well think it makes us sound like pirates. We, of course, could not possibly comment!
- Mr David Morriss & Ms Pepe Becker
♦ Programme Order
(all music by Mr Henry Purcell, 1659-95)
♦ Canaries; “Tell Me Why”; Dance – “A dialogue in The Prophetess” (or The History of Dioclesian); 1690
♦ “Leave these useless arts in loving” – “A two part song in (Shadwell’s revival of) Epsome Wells”; 1693(?)
♦ “Come, let us leave the town” - “A two part song” (from “The Faerie Queen”); 1692
♦ “Lost is my quiet” – “A two part song”; 1691
♦ “There ne’er was so wretched a lover as I” – “A two part song, the words by Mr Congreve”; 1690(?)
♦ Bass solo: “This poet sings the Trojan wars” (Anacreon’s Defeat) - 1688
♦ “When Myra sings” – “A two part song”, words by G Granville; 1695
♦ Soprano solo: “’Tis Nature’s voice” – from “Hail, Bright Cecilia” Ode, words by N Brady; 1692
♦ “While bolts and bars my day controul” – “A two part song”; 1690s
♦ Sonata in F (“Golden Sonata”) – No.9 from “Ten Sonatas in 4 parts” (5 movements); c.1680
♦ “Dulcibella, when e’re I sue for a kiss” – words by A Henley; 1694
♦♦♦♦ INTERVAL ♦♦♦♦
♦ Cantata: “See where she sits” – for two voices, two violins and continuo; words by Cowley; 1683
♦ “When, lovely Phillis, thou art kind” - “A two part song”; 1685
♦ “Julia, your unjust disdain” - “A song for two voices”; 1690s (?)
♦ “I spy Celia; Celia eyes me” - “A song for two voices”; 1690s (?)
♦ “Underneath this myrtle shade” (The Epicure) – words by Cowley; 1692
♦ Harpsichord solo: “A New Ground” in E minor - keyboard version of “Here the Deities approve” from “Welcome
to all the pleasures”, Ode for St Cecilia’s Day; 1683
♦ Dialogue: “Hark, my Doridcar!” – “A dialogue in Tyrannick Love, or The Royal Martyr”; 1694
♦ “As soon as the chaos was made into form” – “A two part song”, from “The Marriage-hater Match’d”; 1693
♦ “Though my mistress be fair” – “A two part song”; 1683-84
♦ “When Teucer from his father fled” (Teucer’s Voyage) – “A two part song”, words by D Kenrick; 1686
1
And her smiles are a joy so great, that I fear
Lest they shou’d be no more but dissembling.
Then prithee Aminta consent and be kind;
A pox of this troublesome wooing,
For I find I shall ne’er be at peace in my mind,
Till once you and I have been dooing:
For shame let your lover no longer complain
Of usage that’s hard above measure,
But since I have carry’d such loads of love’s pain,
Now let me take toll of the pleasure.
Texts (using the original spelling; but with random
capital letters put into lower case, the old double ‘s’
(‘f’) converted to a single ‘s’, and some apostrophes
added, to accord with modern grammar)
Tell me why
SHEPHERD:
Tell me why, my charming fair,
Tell me why you thus deny me.
Can dispair or these sighs and looks of care
Make Corinna ever fly me?
SHEPHERDESS:
O Mirtillo, you’re above me;
I respect but dare not love ye.
She who hears, inclines to sin;
Who parlies half gives up the town,
And ravenous Love soon enters in,
When once the outwork’s beaten down:
Then my sighs and tears won’t move ye?
No, Mirtillo, you’re above me,
I respect but dare not love ye.
SHEPHERD:
Cou’d this lovely, charming maid
Think Mirtillo wou’d deceive her?
Could Corinna be afraid
She by him shou’d be betrayed?
No, too well, too well I love her,
Therefore cannot be above her.
O let love with love be paid.
My heart, my life, my all I give her,
Let me now, ah, now receive her.
SHEPHERDESS (& then BOTH):
Oh! How gladly we believe,
When the heart is too willing:
Can that look, that face, deceive?
Can he take delight in killing?
Ah! I dye if you deceive me!
Yet I will, I will believe ye.
Anacreon’s Defeat
This poet sings the Trojan Wars,
Another of the Theban jarrs,
In rattling numbers, verse that dares.
Whilst I in soft and humble verse,
My own captivities rehearse;
I sing my own defeats, which are
Not the events of common war;
Not fleets at sea have vanquish’d me,
Nor brigadeers, nor cavalry,
Nor ranks and files of infantry:
No, Anacreon still defies
All you artillery companies;
Save those encamp’d in killing eyes,
Each dart his mistress shoots, he dyes.
When Myra sings
When Myra sings, we seek th’inchanting sound,
And bless the notes, which doe so sweetly wound;
What musick needs must dwell upon that tongue,
Whose speech is tuneful as another song;
Such harmony, such wit, a face so fair,
So many pointed arrows who can bear?
The slave that from her wit or beauty flyes,
If she but reach him with her voice, he dies.
‘Tis Nature’s voice
‘Tis Nature’s voice, thro’ all the moveing wood,
Of creatures understood;
The universal tongue to none
Of all her num’rous race unknown,
From her it learnt the mighty art
To court the ear or strike the heart.,
At once the passions to express and move,;
We hear and strait we grieve or hate, rejoice or love:
In unseen chains it does the fancy bind,
At once it charms the sense and captivates the mind.
Leave these useless arts
Leave, leave these useless arts in loving;
Seeming anger and disdain:
Trust to Nature, gently, gently moving,
Nature never pleads in vain;
Nothing guides a lover’s passion,
Like the fair one’s inclination.
Come, let us leave the town
Come, let us leave the town;
And in some lonely place,
Where crowds were never known,
Resolve to spend our days.
In pleasant shades upon the grass,
At night our selves we’ll lay;
Our days in harmless sports shall pass;
Thus time shall slide away.
While bolts and barrs my day controul
While bolts and barrs my day controul;
I keep the freedom of my soul;
And tho’ a dungeon dark and deep,
In anguish shou’d my carcass keep,
My mind wou’d be no pris’ner there,
But rove and wander ev’ry where;
Shou’d mount for blessings from above,
For him I serve and her I love,
With rocks and shores the seas confin’d;
But who can barr the freeborn mind.
Lost is my quiet
Lost is my quiet for ever, lost is life’s happiest part;
Lost all my tender endeavours to touch an insensible heart.
But tho’ my despair is past curing,
And much undeserv’d is my fate;
I’le show by a patient enduring
My love is unmov’d as her hate.
Dulcibella, when e’re I sue for a kiss
Dulcibella, when e’re I sue for a kiss,
Refusing the bliss, cry’s no, no, no
Leave me, leave me Alexis,
Ah! what wou’d you do?
When I tell her I’le goe,
Still she cry’s no, no, no
My Alexis, ah! tell me not so.
Tell me fair one, tell me why,
Why so coming, why so shy;
Why so kind and why so coy:
There ne’er was so wretched a lover as I
There ne’er was so wretched a lover as I;
Whose hopes are for ever prevented:
I’me neither at rest when Aminta looks coy,
Nor when she looks kind am contented:
Her frowns give a pain I’me unable to bear,
The thoughts of e’m set me a trembling,
2
Tell me fair one, tell me why,
You’l neither let me fight nor fly;
You’l neither let me live nor dye.
------------------------------------- ♦ --------------------------------------
Her eyes charm me, my words move her,
And I love her, I love her;
In not blessing, most she blesses,
And not possessing, each possesses.
See where she sits
The Epicure
Underneath this myrtle shade,
On flow’ry beds supinely laid;
With od’rous oyls my head o’erflowing,
And around it roses growing:
What shou’d I do but drink away
The heat and troubles of the day?
In this more than kingly state,
Love himself shall on me wait;
Fill to me, Love, nay fill it up,
And mingled, cast into the cup
Wit and mirth, and noble fires,
Vig’rous health, and gay desires.
The wheel of life no less will stay,
In a smooth than rugged way;
Since it equally doth flee,
Let the motion pleasant be.
Why do we precious ointments show’r?
Nobler wines why do we pour?
Beauteous flow’rs why do we spread,
Upon the monuments of the dead?
Nothing they but dust can show,
Or bones that hasten to be so.
Crown me with roses whilst I live,
Now your wine and ointments give:
After death I nothing crave,
Let me alive my pleasure have;
All, all are stoicks in the grave.
See where she sits, and in what comely wise,
Drops tears more fair than others’ eyes.
Ah! charming maid, let not ill fortune see
Th’attire thy sorrow wears,
Nor know the beauty of thy tears,
For she’ll still come to dress herself in thee.
As stars reflect on waters, so I spy
In ev’ry drop (methinks) her eye;
The baby which lives there and always plays
In that illustrious sphere,
Like a narcissus does appear,
Whilst in his flood the lovely boy did gaze.
Ne’er yet did I behold so glorious weather,
As this sunshine and rain together;
Pray heav’n her forehead, that pure hill of snow,
(For some such fountain we must find,
To waters of so fair a kind)
Melt not, to feed that beauteous stream below.
Ah! mighty Love, that it were inward heat
Which made this precious limbeck sweat!
But what, alas, ah, what does it avail
That she weeps tears so wond’rous cold,
As scarce the ass’s hoof can hold,
So cold that I admire they fall not hail.
When lovely Phillis thou art kind
When lovely Phillis thou art kind,
Nought but raptures fill my mind;
‘Tis then I think thee so divine,
T’excell the mighty pow’r of wine:
But when thou insult’st, and laughs at my pain,
I wash thee away with sparkling champaign;
So bravely contemn both the boy and his mother,
And drive out one god by the pow’r of another.
When pity in thy looks I see,
I frailly quit my friends for thee;
Perswasive love so charms me then,
My freedom I’de not wish again.
But when thou art cruel, and heeds not my care,
Streight with a bumper I banish despair;
So bravely contemn both the boy and his mother,
And drive out one god by the pow’r of another.
Hark, my Doridcar!
HE: Hark, my Doridcar! Hark, we’re called below;
BOTH: Let us go to relieve the care
Of longing lovers in despair;
Let us go, let us go, let us go:
Merry, merry, merry, we sayle from the East;
Half tippl’d at the rainbow feast;
In the bright moonshine whilst the winds whistle loud;
Tivy, tivy, tivy, we mount and we fly,
All racking along in a dawny white cloud,
And lest our leap from the sky shou’d prove too farr,
We’ll slide on the back of a new falling starr,
And drop from above, in a gelly of love.
HE: But now the sun’s down, and the element’s red,
The spirits of fire against us make head;
They muster like gants in the air:
Alas, I must leave thee my fair,
And to my light horsemen repair.
SHE: Oh stay!
HE: Alas, I must leave thee,
SHE: Oh stay! stay, oh stay; HE: Alas, I must leave thee my fair.
SHE: For you need not to fear ‘em tonight;
The wind wind is for us and blows full in their sight,
And o’re the wide ocean we fight;
Like leaves in the autumn our foes will fall down,
And hiss in the water and drown.
HE: but their men lye securely intrench’d in a cloud,
And a trumpeter, hornet to battle sounds loud;
No mortals that spye how we tilt in the sky,
With wonder will gaze and fear such
Events as will ne’re come to pass,
Stay you to perform what the man wou’d have done.
SHE: Then call me agen when the battle is won.
BOTH: So ready and quick is a spirit of air,
To pity the lover and succour the fair;
That silent and swift the little soft god,
Is here with a wish and is gone with a nod.
Julia, your unjust disdain
Julia, your unjust disdain
Moves me to complain;
You that vow’d to be so true,
Alas, is false and marri’d too;
Cou’d I drive those thoughts away,
That rack me ev’ry day,
By your unjust inconstancy;
Oh! how happy shou’d I be.
I spy Celia, Celia eyes me
I spy Celia, Celia eyes me,
I approach her, but she fly’s me;
I persue, more coy I find her;
I seem colder, then she’s kinder:
Her eyes charm me, my words move her,
And I love her, I love her;
In not blessing, most she blesses,
And not possessing, each possesses:
Now she blushes, I grow bolder,
She wou’d leave me, but I hold her;
She grows angry, I appease her,
Then, then I please her:
3
As soon as the chaos was made into form
As soon as the chaos was made into form,
And the first race of men knew a good from a harm;
They quickly did joyn in acknowledge divine,
That the world’s chiefest blessings were women and wine:
Since when by example, improving delights,
Wine governs our days, love and beauty our nights.
Love on then, and drink;
‘Tis a folly to think
Of a mystery out of our reaches,
Be moral in thought,
To be merry’s no fault,
Tho’ an elder the contrary preaches;
For never, my friends,
was an age of more vice,
Than when knaves wou’d seem pious
and and fools wou’d seem wise.
Henry Purcell, c.1659-1695
Though my mistress be fair
Though my mistress be fair, yet froward she’s too,
Then hang the dull soul that will offer to woo;
Bit ‘tis wine, brave wine,
‘Tis liquor, ‘tis liquor
That’s much more sublime,
Much brisker and quicker;
It in sparkles smiles on me,
Tho’ she frown upon me:
Then with laughing and quaffing, I’le time and age beguile,
Owe my pimples and wrinkles to my drink and a smile.
Come fill up my glass,
And a pox on her face;
May it never want scars and scratches,
Wash, paint and patches:
Give me all my drinking magazine,
I’le blow up the scornful queen;
Give me bottles and jugs,
And glasses and mugs,
I’le hug ‘em and tug ‘em, and court ‘em much more,
Than e’re I did the peevish girl before!
------------------------------------- ♦ -------------------------------------If you enjoyed what you heard tonight, be sure not to miss the
next Baroque Voices concert, featuring music from the very
early 17th Century, the likes of which influenced Purcell and
many of his contemporaries a few decades later:
When Teucer from his father fled
When Teucer from his father fled,
And from the shore of Salamine;
With a poplar wreath he crown’d his head,
That glow’d with the warmth of generous wine;
And thus to his drooping friends he said:
Chear up my hearts, your anchors weigh;
Tho’ fate our native soil debar,
Chance is a better father far;
And a better country is the sea:
Then chear up my hearts, your anchors weigh.
Come plow, my mates, the watry way,
And fear not under my command;
We that have known the worst at land,
With the morrow’s dawn, we’ll anchor weigh:
Let us drink and drown our cares away.
Prima le parole, poi la musica…
To commemorate the 440th anniversary of Monteverdi’s birth,
Baroque Voices (dir. Pepe Becker)
with Robin Ward (triple harp)
present:
“Quarto Libro dei Madrigali”, 4th Book of
Madrigals for 5 voices unaccompanied (1603), and
other duets and trios with continuo,
by Claudio Monteverdi (1567-1643)
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We fincerely hope you injoyed thif concert, which has
been recorded for fuch occasions as may arise in the
future when certain audience members and followers of
fine musick may wifh to purchafe a copy thereof.
8pm, Sat 7th July 2007, Sacred Heart Cathedral,
Hill St, Wellington
Admission: $25, $15.
We also have available for sale tonight some Compact
Difks, including our Atoll duet recording entitled “Rustic
Revelry”( releas’d in 2006), which is compris’d of Bach’s
“Peasant Cantata”; and feveral wonderful duets
expounding upon the topics of love and wine, the musick
compos’d by the ineffable Mr Henry Purcell.
Bookings: tel:9736607, www.baroquevoices.co.nz
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