to the all too willing, yet seemingly recalcitrant, Julia. Lucetta lets the note drop, and picks it up in a manner to attract Julia's attention. "Julia. What is't you took up so gingerly? Lucetta. Nothing. Julia. Why didst thou stoop, then? Lucetta. To take a paper up, that I let fall. Julia. And is that paper nothing? Lucetta. Nothing concerning me. Julia. Then let it lie for those that it concerns. Unless it have a false interpreter. Julia. Some love of yours hath writ to you in rhyme. Give me a note: your ladyship can set. Julia. As little by such toys as may be possible: Best sing it to the tune of Light o' love.' Lucetta. It is too heavy for so light a tune. Julia. Heavy? belike, it hath some burden then. Lucetta. Ay; and melodious were it, would you sing it. Julia. And why not you? Lucetta. I cannot reach so high. Julia. Let's see your song. How now, minion? Lucetta. Keep tune there still, so you will sing it out; And yet, methinks, I do not like this tune. Julia. You do not? Lucetta. No, madam, it is too sharp. Julia. You, minion, are too saucy. And mar the concord with too harsh a descant: Julia. The mean is drown'd with your unruly bass. Julia. This babble shall not henceforth trouble me. Here is a coil with protestation! Go, get you gone: and let the papers lie: You would be fingering them, to anger me. [Tears the letter.] Lucetta. She makes it strange; but she would be best pleased To be so anger'd with another letter. [Exit." This scene could easily give rise to an entire chapter of musical comment and elucidation. "Give me a note: your ladyship can set," proves Julia especially musical. To "set" a tune meant to give its first note to the singers, without aid of tuning-fork (which implement was only invented in 1711, by John Shore, an Englishman) or instrument. Many are the rules given regarding "setting" in the old instruction books; we quote from Playford's "Introduction to the Skill of Musick." "Observe, that in the Tuning your Voice you strive to have it clear. Also in the expressing your Voice, or Tuning of Notes, let the Sound come clear from your Throat, and not through your Teeth, by sucking in your Breath, for that is a great obstruction to the clear utterance of the Voice. 66 Lastly, observe, that in Tuning your first note of your Plain Song, you equal it so to the pitch of your Voice, that when you come to your highest Note, you may reach it without squeaking, and your lowest Note without grumbling." In the Puritan churches "setting a tune" was a task of considerable importance and difficulty, since An instruments were seldom tolerated, least of all the organ, which smacked of the Church of Rome. instance may be cited from Puritan days in America, regarding "setting;' we quote from the diary of Samuel Sewall, of Boston, the date being December 28, 1705: "SIXTH DAY, Dec. 28th. "Mr. Pemberton prays excellently, and Mr. Willard preaches from Ps. 66, 20, very excellently. Spake to me to set the Tune. I intended Windsor, and fell into High Dutch,' and then, essaying to set another Tune, went into a key much too high. So I prayed Mr. White to set it; which he did well, Lichf. tune. The Lord humble me and instruct me that I should be occasion of any interruption in the worship of God." The above citation may readily show the difficulties of "setting" if one was not possessed of the rare faculty of absolute pitch. The next line requiring attention is "Best sing it to the tune of Light o' Love."" This tune seems to have been a favourite with Shakespeare, for he alludes to it again in a prominent manner in "Much Ado About Nothing," in 'The editor of the "Diary" falls into a quaint error in adding to the above: "From the context we infer that to fall into High Dutch' was to sing at too low a pitch." As a matter of fact, “High Dutch" was the Puritan name for "Canterbury," and the worthy judge had actually gone into the wrong tune; "Windsor" was the intended melody, and "Litchfield" the tune eventually set by "Mr. White." Act iii. Sc. 4 (see chapter on dances), and in both cases he alludes to the lightness of the tune. Nor was our poet the only one who recognised the dainty character of the melody, for in Fletcher's "Two Noble Kinsmen," the jailer's daughter speaks of a horse with the simile: "He gallops to the tune of Light o' Love.'" Yet the melody itself is not rapid. Fortunately, it exists in its original state, and we reproduce it for the benefit of the reader who desires to note the fitness of Shakespeare's mention of it. SHAKESPEARE IN MUSIC. I ΙΟΙ In both allusions Shakespeare speaks of a "burden" in the context. The burden was a recurring phrase or figure which came in after each line or each couplet, sometimes at the end of each stanza. Nothing is more marked in connection with the old English music than the constant use of the burden, and it was an exception which Shakespeare noted, that "Light o' Love" went without a burden. Some of the refrains or burdens go back to a very remote antiquity. We have already seen that "Hey Troly, loly," an old Scottish ejaculation of sadness, gradually metamorphosed itself into "Tol de Rol" and "Fol de Rol," as used in bacchanalian music. Oldest of all the burdens was the phrase, "Derry, Derry down," or, "Hey Derry down." Etymologists have traced this phrase back to Norman England, to the Danish days, and even to the Saxon epoch, only to have it elude them at last. It is considered probable that the words are of Druidic origin. Often the burden consisted simply of a repetition of the syllables "Fa la la" at the end of each line or verse; in this case the song was called a "Fa-la." Morley and Hilton, both prominent in Shakespeare's time, wrote many beautiful "Fa-las." We present a facsimile of one of Morley's arranged as a duet by We shall find more about the "burden" in connection with the bacchanalian music of "Twelfth Night," and the songs of Ophelia in "Hamlet." |