Our debut CD entitled “Love! Lust! Longing… Loss – an Elizabethan Romp” is now available on CDBaby.com, iTunes, and wherever digital music is sold!
Fine Knacks for Ladies
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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.
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, the Orient’s pearls we find.
Of others take a sheaf, of me a grain.
Within this pack—pins, points, laces and gloves,
And divers toys fitting a country fair,
But in my heart, where duty serves and loves,
Turtles and twins, Court’s brood, a heav’nly pair.
Happy the heart that thinks of no removes.
(music & lyrics John Dowland, pub. 1600)
performed by Erika Lloyd (Soprano I), Alane Marco (Soprano II), Matt Leisy (Tenor), Garald Farnham (Baritone)
When From My Love
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When from my love I looked for love
And kind affections due,
Too well I found her vows to prove
Most faithless and untrue;
For when I did ask her why,
Most sharply did she reply
That she with me did ne’er agree
To love but jestingly.
Mark but the subtle policies that female lovers find,
Who love to fix their constancies
Like feathers in the wind.
They swear, vow and protest
That they love you chiefly best,
Yet by and by they’ll all deny
And say ‘twas but in jest.
(music John Bartlet, pub. 1606)
performed by Matt Leisy (Tenor); Verse 2 with Alane Marco (Soprano I), Erika Lloyd (Soprano II), and Garald Farnham (Baritone & Lute)
Say, Love
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Say, Love, if ever thou did’st find
A woman with a constant mind? None but one.
And what should that rare mirror be?
Some goddess or some queen is she;
She, she and only she,
She only queen of love and beauty.
But could thy fiery poison’d dart
At no time touch her spotless heart,
Nor come near?
She is not subject to Love’s bow;
Her eye commands, her heart saith no,
No, no and only no,
One “no” another still doth follow.
How might I that fair wonder know,
That mocks desire with endless “no”?
See the moon?
That ever in one change doth grow,
Yet still the same, and she is so;
So, so and only so,
From heav’n her virtues she doth borrow.
To her then yield thy shafts and bow,
That can command affections so: Love is free;
So are her thoughts that vanquish thee.
There is no queen of love but she,
She, she and only she,
She only queen of love and beauty.
(music & lyrics John Dowland, pub. 1603;
written for Queen Elizabeth I)
performed by Alane Marco (Soprano I), Erika Lloyd (Soprano II), Matt Leisy (Tenor), Garald Farnham (Baritone)
There Is a Ladye
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There is a Ladye sweet and kind,
Was never face so pleased my mind,
I did but see her passing by
And yet I love her till I die.
Her gesture, motion and her smiles,
Her wit, her voice my heart beguiles,
Beguiles my heart I know not why,
And yet I love her till I die.
Her free behavior, winning looks,
Will make a Lawyer burn his books,
I touched her not, alas not I,
And yet I love her till I die.
Had I her fast betwixt mine arms,
Judge you that think such sports were harms,
Wert any harm? No, no, fie, fie,
For I will love her till I die.
Cupid is winged and doth range
Her country, so my love doth change,
But change she earth or change she sky,
Yet will I love her till I die.
(music Thomas Ford, pub. 1607)
performed by Garald Farnham (Baritone & Lute)
It Was a Lover and His Lass
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It was a lover and his lass (with a hey, with a ho, and a hey nonny, nonny-no)
That o’er the green corn fields did pass
In springtime, the only pretty ring time,
When birds do sing (hey ding a ding a ding),
Sweet lovers love the spring.
Therefore take the present time (with a hey, with a ho, and a hey nonny, nonny-no)
For love is crowned with the prime.
In springtime, the only pretty ring time,
When birds do sing (hey ding a ding a ding),
Sweet lovers love the spring.
(music Thomas Morley, pub. 1600; lyrics attrib.
Wm Shakespeare, used in “As You Like It”)
performed by Erika Lloyd (Soprano) & Matt Leisy (Tenor) with Garald Farnham (Lute)
Barb’ry Ellen
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In Scarlet Town where I was born,
There was a fair maid dwelling,
Made every youth cry, “Well-a-day!”
Her name was Barb’ry Ellen.
‘Twas in the merry month of May,
When the green buds they were swelling,
Sweet William on his deathbed lay,
For the love of Barb’ry Ellen.
He sent his servant to the town,
To the place where she was dwelling,
“My master bids you come to him,
If your name be Barb’ry Ellen.”
Then slowly, slowly got she up,
And slowly went she nigh him.
And as she drew the curtain back,
“Young man, I think you’re dying.”
“Oh yes, I’m sick, I’m very sick,
And I never will be better,
Until I have the love of one,
The love of Barb’ry Ellen.”
“Oh ken ye not in yonders town,
In the place where you were dwellin’,
You gave a health to the ladies all,
But you slighted Barb’ry Ellen.”
“Oh yes, I ken, I ken it well,
In the place where I was dwellin’,
I gave a health to the ladies all,
But my love to Barb’ry Ellen.”
Then lightly tripped she down the stair;
He trembled like an aspen.
“Tis vain, ‘tis vain, my dear young man,
To hone for Barb’ry Ellen.”
He turned his pale face to the wall,
For death was in him dwellin’.
“Goodbye, kind friends and kinfolk all,
Be kind to Barb’ry Ellen.”
As she did pass the wooded fields,
She heard his death bell knellin’,
And ev’ry stroke, it spoke her name,
“Hard-hearted Barb’ry Ellen.”
Her eyes looked east, her eyes looked west,
She saw his pale corpse coming,
“Oh bearers, bearers, put him down,
That I may look upon him.”
The more she looked, the more she grieved,
Until she burst out crying,
“Oh bearers, bearers, take him off,
For I am now a-dying.”
“Oh mother dear, go make my bed,
Go make it soft and narrow;
Sweet William died for me today.
I will die for him tomorrow.”
“Oh father dear, go dig my grave,
Go dig it deep and narrow;
Sweet William died for love of me,
And I will die for sorrow.”
They buried her in the old church yard,
Sweet William’s grave was nigh her,
And from his heart grew a red, red rose,
And from her heart a briar.
They grew themselves to the old church wall,
‘Twill they couldn’t grow no higher;
They grew ‘twill they tied a true lover’s knot,
The red rose round the briar.
(Appalachian variation of trad. ballad “Barbara Allen,” as collected by John Jacob Niles)
performed by Garald Farnham (Baritone & Lute) & Alane Marco (Mezzo Soprano)
Heigh Ho! For a Husband
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There was a maid the other day,
Sighed sore, “God wot!”
“I say all wives might have their way,
Young maidens they might not.
Full eighteen years have pass’d, my friend,
Since I, poor soul, was born,
And if I chance to die a maid,
Apollo is forsworn.”
Heigh-ho! For a husband,
Still this was her song:
“I will have a husband, be he old or young!”
An ancient suitor to her came;
His beard was almost grey.
Tho’ he was old and she was young,
She would no longer stay.
But to her mother went this maid,
And told her by and by,
“Oh, I a husband needs must have,
Oh mother, hear my cry!”
Heigh-ho! For a husband,
Still this was her song:
“I will have a husband, be he old or young!”
“A wedded life, ah! well-a-day. It is a hapless lot!
Young maids may merry, be they gay,
Young wives, alas, may not!
A twelve-month is too long to bear
This sorry yoke, my friend.
Since wives they may not have their will,
‘Tis best to die a maid!”
Heigh-ho! With a husband, What a life lead I,
Out upon a husband, such a husband. Fie, fie, fie, oh fie!
(Music anon ca. 1600, pub. John Gamble; lyrics found in the play “Wit & Mirth,”
refered to in Shakespeare’s “Much Ado About Nothing”)
performed by Erika Lloyd (Soprano Solo) with Alane Marco (Soprano II), Matt Leisy (Tenor), Garald Farnham (Baritone & Lute)
Have You Seen But a White Lily Grow?
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Have you seen but a white lily grow
Before rude hands had touched it;
Have you marked but the fall of the snow
Before the earth hath smutch’d it?
Have you felt the wool of beaver
Or swan’s down ever?
Or have smelt of the bud of the briar
Or the nard in the fire?
Or have tasted the bag of the bee?
O so white, o so soft,
O so sweet, so sweet is she.
Do but look on her eyes, they do light
All that Love’s world compriseth!
Do but look on her hair, it is bright
As Love’s star when it riseth!
Do but mark, her forehead’s smoother
Than words that soothe her
And from her arched brows
Such a grace sheds itself thro’ the face,
As alone there triumphs to the life
All the gain, all the good
Of the elements’ strife.
(music attrib. Robert Johnson; lyrics for
v.1 & v.2 anonymous, v. 3 by Ben Jonson)
performed by Matt Leisy (Tenor) with Garald Farnham (Lute)
Rest, Sweet Nymphs
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Rest, sweet Nymphs, let golden sleep
Charm your star brighter eyes
Whiles my lute the watch doth keep
With pleasing sympathies.
Lulla lullaby, Lulla lullaby,
Sleep sweetly, sleep sweetly,
Let nothing affright ye,
In calm contentments lie.
Dream fair virgins of delight,
And blest Elizian groves;
Whiles the wand’ring shades of night
Resemble your true loves:
Lulla lullaby, Lulla lullaby,
Your Kisses, your blisses,
Send them by your wishes,
Although they be not nigh.
Thus, dear damsels, I do give
Good night and so am gone.
With your hearts’ desires long live
Still joy, and never moan.
Lulla lullaby, Lulla lullaby,
Hath pleas’d you and eas’d you,
And sweet slumber seiz’d you,
And now to bed I hie.
(music Francis Pilkington, pub. 1605)
performed by Erika Lloyd (Soprano) with Garald Farnham (Lute)
Bugle Britches
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Oh, she took him by the bridle rein,
And she led him to the stable.
“Here’s fodder and hay for your horse, young man, And me to bed if you’re able.”
She took him by the lily-white hand,
She led him to the table.
“Here’s drink and meat for us to eat,
And me to bed if you’re able.”
She’s up the stairs, her skirts a-flounce,
To make the soldier’s bed.
“Come up, come up, my bonny boy,
I ween you have been fed.”
She’s pulled off her lily-white gown,
She laid it on a table.
“Come bed me quick, my bonny boy,
I’m sure that you are able.”
Oh it’s meat and drink for bonny boys
And then to bed with lasses,
It’s oats and hay and fodder, too, For horses and for asses.
They had not been a-bed a-long,
It was not hours three,
When he did hear the bugle A-blasting merrily.
“Don’t leave, don’t leave, my bonny boy,
The task is not half done.
A soldier ne’er should sheathe his sword
Until the battle’s won.”
“I’ll have to sheathe my dagger,
My codpiece is withdrawn.
I’ll don my bugle britches, I hear the merry horn.”
“Oh when shall we e’er meet again,
And when shall we be wed?
For surely I am all but ruined, And truly would be dead.”
“When mussel shells turn silver bells,
Then we will up and marry.
But now I’m bound to London town,
Nor can I ever tarry.”
(trad. ballad “Trooper & Maid,” Appalachian variation as collected by John Jacob Niles)
performed by Matt Leisy & Garald Farnham (Lute) and Erika Lloyd & Alane Marco
This song was considered too risque for the “gentle sex” and for many years was sung only in the company of men.
Come Again
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Come again, sweet love doth now invite
Thy graces that refrain To do me due delight,
To see, to hear, to touch, to kiss, to die
With thee again in sweetest sympathy.
All the day, the sun that lends me shine
By frowns doth cause me pine
And feeds me with delay;
Her smiles, my springs that makes my joy to grow,
Her frowns, the winter of my woe.
All the night my sleeps are full of dreams,
My eyes are full of streams,
My heart takes no delight
To see the fruits and joys that some do find
And mark the storms are me assign’d.
Gentle Love, draw forth thy wounding dart,
Thou canst not pierce her heart;
For I, that to approve
By sighs and tears more hot than are my shafts,
Did tempt, while she for triumph laughs.
(music & lyrics John Dowland, pub. 1597)
performed by Erika Lloyd (Sop I & Solo), Alane Marco (Sop II), Matt Leisy (Tenor & Solo), Garald Farnham (Baritone & Lute)
Humour Say, What Mak’st Thou Here? – a Dialogue
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“Humour, say, what mak’st thou here,
In the presence of a queen?”
“Princes hold conceit most dear,
All conceit in humour seen.”
“Thou art a heavy leaden mood.”
“Humour is invention’s food.”
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?”
“I am now inclined to mirth,
Humour I as well as thou.”
“Why, then, ‘tis I am drowned in woe?”
“No, no, wit is cherish’d so.”
But never humour yet was true,
But that which only pleaseth you.
“Mirth, then, is drown’d in Sorrow’s brim,
O, in sorrow all things sleep.”
“No, no, fool, the lightest things swim.
Heavy things sink to the deep.”
“In her presence, all things smile,”
“Humour frolic then awhile.”
But never humour yet was true,
But that which only pleaseth you.
(music & lyrics John Dowland, pub. 1600;
written for Queen Elizabeth I)
dialogue performed by Alane Marco (Sop I) and Garald Farnham (Baritone & Lute), Chorus with Erika Lloyd (Sop II), Matt Leisy (Tenor)
Toss the Pot
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We take no thought, we have no care
For still we spend, and never spare,
Till of all money our purse is bare,
We ever toss the pot.
Toss the pot, toss the pot, Let us be merry
And drink till our cheeks be as red as a cherry.
We drink, carouse with heart most free,
A hearty draught I drink to thee;
Then fill the pot again to me,
And ever toss the pot.
Toss the pot, toss the pot, Let us be merry
And drink till our cheeks be as red as a cherry.
And when our money is all spent,
Then sell our goods, and spend our rent,
Or drink it up with one consent,
And ever toss the pot.
Toss the pot, toss the pot, Let us be merry
And drink till our cheeks be as red as a cherry.
Let us conclude as we began,
And toss the pot from man to man,
And drink as much now as we can,
And ever toss the pot.
Toss the pot, toss the pot, Let us be merry
And drink till our cheeks be as red as a cherry.
(attrib. Thomas Ravenscroft, pub. 1614)
performed by Garald Farnham (Baritone & Lute), Erika Lloyd (Soprano I), Alane Marco (Soprano II), Matt Leisy (Tenor)
Recorded live at Eastern Carolina University School of Music
Remaining lyrics on this page are to songs in the full length concert version of “Love! Lust! Longing…. Loss” that are not included on the CD.
So Quick, So Hot, So Mad
So quick, so hot, so mad is thy fond suit,
So rude, so tedious grown in urging me,
That fain I would with loss make thy tongue mute,
And yield some little grace to quiet thee.
An hour with thee I care not to converse:
For I would not be counted too perverse.†
But roofs too hot would prove for all men fire,
And hills too high for my unused pace;
The grove is charg’d with thorns & the bold briar;
Grey snakes the meadows shroud in every place:
A yellow frog, alas, will fright me so
As I should start and tremble as I go.
Since then I can on earth no fit room find,
In heav’n I am resolv’d with you to meet;
Till then, for Hope’s sweet sake,
rest your tired mind
And not so much as see me in the street.
A heavenly meeting one day we shall have,
But never, as you dream, in bed, or grave.
(music & lyrics Thomas Campion, pub. 1618;
† “For I would not be counted too ‘averse to love.’”)
If She Forsake Me
If she forsake me, I must die; Shall I tell her so?
Alas, then straight will she reply, “No, no, no, no.”
If I disclose my desperate state,
She will but make sport thereat
And more unrelenting grow.
What heart can long such pains abide?
Fie upon this love!
I would adventure far and wide If it would remove,
But love will still my steps pursue.
I cannot his ways eschew,
Thus still helpless hopes I prove.
I do my love in lines commend, But alas in vain;
The costly gifts that I do send, She returns again.
Thus still is my despair procured
And her malice more assured;
Then come, Death, and end my pain.
(music Philip Rosseter, pub. 1601)
If My Complaints
If my complaints could passions move,
Or make Love see wherein I suffer wrong;
My passions were enough to prove,
That my despairs had govern’d me too long.
O Love, I live and die in thee,
Thy grief in my deep sighs still speaks;
Thy wounds do freshly bleed in me,
My heart for thy unkindness breaks.
Yet thou dost hope when I despair
And while I hope, thou mak’st me hope in vain.
Thou say’st thou canst my harms repair,
Yet for redress, thou let’st me still complain.
Can Love be rich, and yet I want?
Is Love my judge, and yet I am condemn’d?
Thou plenty hast, yet me dost scant;
Thou made a God, and yet thy power contemn’d.
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 here despair, which truly saith:
I was more true to Love than Love to me.
(music & lyrics John Dowland, pub. 1597)
When To Her Lute Corrina Sings
When to her lute Corrina sings,
Her voice revives the leaden strings,
And doth in highest notes appear
As any challeng’d echo clear.
But when she doth of mourning speak,
E’en with her sighs,
Her sighs the strings do break.
And as her lute doth live or die;
Led by her passion, so must I.
For when of pleasure she doth sing,
My thoughts enjoy a sudden spring.
But if she doth of sorrow speak,
E’en from my heart,
My heart the strings do break.
(music & lyrics Thomas Campion, pub. 1601)
Come Live With Me and Be My Love
Come live with me, and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That hills and valleys, dale and field,
And all the craggy mountains yield.
There will we sit upon the rocks
And see the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
There will I make thee beds of roses
And twine a thousand fragrant posies;
A cap of flowers and a kirtle
Embroider’d all with leaves of myrtle.
A gown made of the finest wool,
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold.
A belt of straw and ivy buds
With coral clasps and amber studs;
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me and be my love.
The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning;
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my love.
(music William Corkine; pub. 1612;
lyrics Christopher Marlowe ca. 1595,
written to Sir Walter Raleigh;
portions used by Shakespeare in “Merry Wives”)
About Our Music [Notes from the "Love! Lust! Longing... Loss" program book]
Today, the music world labels the songs we perform “Early Music,” but for people living during the reign of Elizabeth I in England, this was “pop” music. These songs were sung in private homes, banquet halls, theatres, pubs and on street corners. If a composer were lucky enough, he might receive a position at court where his songs would be performed for the Queen.
People often ask us if we sing madrigals. We don’t – we sing lute songs. What’s the difference? Lute songs were published with a melody line and notated lute accompaniment, some with four-part vocal arrangements. In a lute song, the melody line is always the most important. The madrigal, by comparison, is always written for multiple voice parts and is always sung a cappella (without instrumental accompaniment). The vocal parts are fully polyphonic – a madrigal cannot be sung as a solo. With few exceptions, the English composers of the time specialized in one form or the other.
Our repertoire also includes popular ballads of the era. These songs were not published in printed books, but have only been discovered in handwritten manuscript form, sometimes with a lute part notated. It is impossible to know for sure who originated the popular ballads of the day, since they were passed orally from musician to musician. A minstrel in 1600 would copy any new song he heard into his “fake book.” He might add his own bass line or harmony, or write a new lyric to put his own stamp on it. This led to a great number of regional variations, such as the Appalachian versions you’ll hear today, brought by English and Scottish immigrants to the New World.
Theatre songs, i.e. songs written for theatrical productions, are also only found in handwritten manuscripts. Robert Johnson, who composed for Shakespeare’s company, probably collaborated with Shakespeare on some and adapted existing songs for others. (His songs were later appropriated for use by other playwrights.) Most true “theatre songs” are different from the other forms in that they are more like monologues – no verses, no repeated choruses. They serve the same dramatic purpose as recitatives and arias in opera.
The late Robert Spencer, a 20th century lute song scholar, rescued many English lute songs from oblivion. He believed strongly that to the Renaissance mind, the poetry was most important, the music second, and the singer last. We believe in performing this music with an emphasis on the stories and characters contained in the lyrics, as Renaissance-era minstrels and buskers would have done to attract and keep their audiences. Thus, we may take occasional liberties with “historic performance practice” in order to make clear the meaning of the lyrics.
If listeners in 1600 liked a performance, they would respond with the word “Huzzah!” If they didn’t like it, they’d shout “Fie!” We encourage you to express yourself in this manner, and to laugh out loud when you find something funny. Of course, we’ll accept plain old applause as well!
—Garald Farnham, Artistic Director
