|
1. |
|
|
|
|
2. |
|
|
|
|
What greater griefe then no reliefe in deepest woe,
Death is no friend that will not end such harts sorrow,
Helpe I do crie, no helpe is nie, but winde and aire,
which to and fro do tosse and blow all to dispaire,
Sith then dispaire I must, yet may not die,
no man unhapier lives on earth then I.
Tis I that feele the scornefull heele of dismall hate,
My gaine is lost, my losse cleere cost repentance late,
So I must mone bemonde of none, O bitter gal!
Death be my friend with speed to end and quiet all.
But if thou linger in dispaire to leave mee,
He kill dispaire with hope, and so deceive thee.
|
|
3. |
|
|
|
|
4. |
|
|
|
|
Fain would I change that note
To wich fond love hath charmd me,
Long, long to sing by roate,
Fancying that that harmde me
Yet when this thought doth come
Love is the perfect summe
of all delight
I have no other choice
either for pen or voyce,
to sing or write:
O Love they wrong thee much,
That say thy sweete is bitter.
When thy ripe fruit is such,
As nothing can be sweeter,
Faire house of joy and blisse,
Where truest pleasure is,
I doe adore thee:
I know thee what thou art,
I serve thee with my hart,
and fall before thee.
|
|
5. |
|
|
|
|
6. |
|
|
|
|
7. |
|
|
|
|
8. |
|
|
|
|
9. |
|
|
|
|
10. |
|
|
|
|
11. |
|
|
|
|
Tobacco, Tobacco
sing sweetly for Tobacco,
Tobacco is like love, O love it
for you see I wil prove it.
Love maketh leane the fatte mens tumor,
so doth Tobacco,
Love still dries uppe the wanton humor,
so doth Tobacco,
Love makes men sayle from shore to shore,
so doth Tobacco
Tis fond love often makes men poor
so doth Tobacco
Love makes men scorne al Coward feares,
so doth Tobacco
Love often sets men by the eares
so doth Tobacco.
Tobaccoe, Tobaccoe
Sing sweetely for Tobaccoe,
Tobaccoe is like Love, O love it,
For you see I have prowde it.
|
|
12. |
|
|
|
|
13. |
|
|
|
|
14. |
|
|
|
|
I sing the praise of honor’d wars,
the glory of wel gotten skars,
The bravery of glittring shields,
of lusty harts & famous fields:
For that is Musicke worth the eare of Jove,
a sight for kings, & still the Soldiers love:
Look, for me thinks I see
the grace of chivalry,
The colours are displaid,
the captaines bright araid:
See now the battels rang’d
bullets now thick are chang’d:
Harke, harke, shootes and wounds abound,
the drums allarum sound:
The Captaines crye za za za, za
the Trumpets sound tar ra ra ra ra ra:
O this is musicke worth the eare of Jove,
a sight for Kinges, and stil the Soldiers love.
|
|
15. |
|
|
|
|
16. |
|
|
|
|
17. |
|
|
|
|
18. |
|
|
|
|
19. |
|
|
|
|
Cease leaden slumber dreaming,
my Genius presents the cause of sweet musickes meaning,
Now which breedes my soules content,
and bids my Muse awake,
to heare sweete musickes note,
that cherefully, glads me so cherefully.
Me thought as I lay sleeping,
dreames did enchaunt me with the prayse of musicke and her worth
and her eternisht fame,
But now I finde indeed
my leaden windowes open,
that cherefully, comforts full cherefully.
Night, gloomy vaile to the morn
dreames affright, no more where sweet musicke is now still appearing,
leave passions to perplexe,
For now my soule delights in musicks harmony,
whose heavenly noyse,
glads soules with tongue and voice,
for now my soule delights, in heavenly noise
of musickes sweetest joyes.
|
|
20. |
|
|
|
|
21. |
|
|
|
|
22. |
|
|
|
No-nonsense music and songs from everyone's favourite 17th-century Scots mercenary and his two books:
The First Part of Ayres: Captain Humes Musicall Humors (1605)
and Captain Humes Poeticall Musicke (1607)
featuring tenor Thomas Walker as the Captain himself, and a host of instruments including viols, nyckelharpa, orpharions, lyra d'amore, renaissance flutes, cittern, theorbo, and virginals.