♦ 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 two- volume 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 Texts (using the original spelling; but with random And her smiles are a joy so great, that I fear capital letters put into lower case, the old double ‘s’ Lest they shou’d be no more but dissembling. (‘f’) converted to a single ‘s’, and some apostrophes Then prithee Aminta consent and be kind; added, to accord with modern grammar) 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: Tell me why For shame let your lover no longer complain SHEPHERD: Of usage that’s hard above measure, Tell me why, my charming fair, But since I have carry’d such loads of love’s pain, Tell me why you thus deny me. Now let me take toll of the pleasure. Can dispair or these sighs and looks of care Make Corinna ever fly me? Anacreon’s Defeat SHEPHERDESS: This poet sings the Trojan Wars, O Mirtillo, you’re above me; Another of the Theban jarrs, I respect but dare not love ye. In rattling numbers, verse that dares. She who hears, inclines to sin; Whilst I in soft and humble verse, Who parlies half gives up the town, My own captivities rehearse; And ravenous Love soon enters in, I sing my own defeats, which are When once the outwork’s beaten down: Not the events of common war; Then my sighs and tears won’t move ye? Not fleets at sea have vanquish’d me, No, Mirtillo, you’re above me, Nor brigadeers, nor cavalry, I respect but dare not love ye. Nor ranks and files of infantry: SHEPHERD: No, Anacreon still defies Cou’d this lovely, charming maid All you artillery companies; Think Mirtillo wou’d deceive her? Save those encamp’d in killing eyes, Could Corinna be afraid Each dart his mistress shoots, he dyes. She by him shou’d be betrayed? No, too well, too well I love her, When Myra sings Therefore cannot be above her. When Myra sings, we seek th’inchanting sound, O let love with love be paid. And bless the notes, which doe so sweetly wound; My heart, my life, my all I give her, What musick needs must dwell upon that tongue, Let me now, ah, now receive her. Whose speech is tuneful as another song; SHEPHERDESS (& then BOTH): Such harmony, such wit, a face so fair, Oh! How gladly we believe, So many pointed arrows who can bear? When the heart is too willing: The slave that from her wit or beauty flyes, Can that look, that face, deceive? If she but reach him with her voice, he dies. Can he take delight in killing? Ah! I dye if you deceive me! Yet I will, I will believe ye. ‘ Tis Nature’s voice ‘Tis Nature’s voice, thro’ all the moveing wood, Leave these useless arts Of creatures understood; The universal tongue to none Leave, leave these useless arts in loving; Of all her num’rous race unknown, Seeming anger and disdain: From her it learnt the mighty art Trust to Nature, gently, gently moving, To court the ear or strike the heart., Nature never pleads in vain; At once the passions to express and move,; Nothing guides a lover’s passion, We hear and strait we grieve or hate, rejoice or love: Like the fair one’s inclination. In unseen chains it does the fancy bind, At once it charms the sense and captivates the mind. Come, let us leave the town Come, let us leave the town; While bolts and barrs my day controul And in some lonely place, While bolts and barrs my day controul; Where crowds were never known, I keep the freedom of my soul; Resolve to spend our days. And tho’ a dungeon dark and deep, In pleasant shades upon the grass, In anguish shou’d my carcass keep, At night our selves we’ll lay; My mind wou’d be no pris’ner there, Our days in harmless sports shall pass; But rove and wander ev’ry where; Thus time shall slide away. Shou’d mount for blessings from above, For him I serve and her I love, Lost is my quiet With rocks and shores the seas confin’d; Lost is my quiet for ever, lost is life’s happiest part; But who can barr the freeborn mind. Lost all my tender endeavours to touch an insensible heart. But tho’ my despair is past curing, Dulcibella, when e’re I sue for a kiss And much undeserv’d is my fate; Dulcibella, when e’re I sue for a kiss, I’le show by a patient enduring Refusing the bliss, cry’s no, no, no My love is unmov’d as her hate. Leave me, leave me Alexis, Ah! what wou’d you do? There ne’er was so wretched a lover as I When I tell her I’le goe, There ne’er was so wretched a lover as I; Still she cry’s no, no, no Whose hopes are for ever prevented: My Alexis, ah! tell me not so. I’me neither at rest when Aminta looks coy, Tell me fair one, tell me why, Nor when she looks kind am contented: Why so coming, why so shy; Her frowns give a pain I’me unable to bear, Why so kind and why so coy: The thoughts of e’m set me a trembling, 2 Tell me fair one, tell me why, Her eyes charm me, my words move her, You’l neither let me fight nor fly; And I love her, I love her; You’l neither let me live nor dye. In not blessing, most she blesses, ------♦ ------And not possessing, each possesses.

See where she sits The Epicure See where she sits, and in what comely wise, Underneath this myrtle shade, Drops tears more fair than others’ eyes. On flow’ry beds supinely laid; Ah! charming maid, let not ill fortune see With od’rous oyls my head o’erflowing, Th’attire thy sorrow wears, And around it roses growing: Nor know the beauty of thy tears, What shou’d I do but drink away For she’ll still come to dress herself in thee. The heat and troubles of the day? As stars reflect on waters, so I spy In this more than kingly state, In ev’ry drop (methinks) her eye; Love himself shall on me wait; The baby which lives there and always plays Fill to me, Love, nay fill it up, In that illustrious sphere, And mingled, cast into the cup Like a narcissus does appear, Wit and mirth, and noble fires, Whilst in his flood the lovely boy did gaze. Vig’rous health, and gay desires. Ne’er yet did I behold so glorious weather, The wheel of life no less will stay, As this sunshine and rain together; In a smooth than rugged way; Pray heav’n her forehead, that pure hill of snow, Since it equally doth flee, (For some such fountain we must find, Let the motion pleasant be. To waters of so fair a kind) Why do we precious ointments show’r? Melt not, to feed that beauteous stream below. Nobler wines why do we pour? Ah! mighty Love, that it were inward heat Beauteous flow’rs why do we spread, Which made this precious limbeck sweat! Upon the monuments of the dead? But what, alas, ah, what does it avail Nothing they but dust can show, That she weeps tears so wond’rous cold, Or bones that hasten to be so. As scarce the ass’s hoof can hold, Crown me with roses whilst I live, So cold that I admire they fall not hail. Now your wine and ointments give: After death I nothing crave, When lovely Phillis thou art kind Let me alive my pleasure have; When lovely Phillis thou art kind, All, all are stoicks in the grave. Nought but raptures fill my mind; ‘Tis then I think thee so divine, Hark, my Doridcar! T’excell the mighty pow’r of wine: HE: Hark, my Doridcar! Hark, we’re called below; But when thou insult’st, and laughs at my pain, BOTH: Let us go to relieve the care I wash thee away with sparkling champaign; Of longing lovers in despair; So bravely contemn both the boy and his mother, Let us go, let us go, let us go: And drive out one god by the pow’r of another. Merry, merry, merry, we sayle from the East; When pity in thy looks I see, Half tippl’d at the rainbow feast; I frailly quit my friends for thee; In the bright moonshine whilst the winds whistle loud; Perswasive love so charms me then, Tivy, tivy, tivy, we mount and we fly, My freedom I’de not wish again. All racking along in a dawny white cloud, But when thou art cruel, and heeds not my care, And lest our leap from the sky shou’d prove too farr, Streight with a bumper I banish despair; We’ll slide on the back of a new falling starr, So bravely contemn both the boy and his mother, And drop from above, in a gelly of love. And drive out one god by the pow’r of another. HE: But now the sun’s down, and the element’s red, The spirits of fire against us make head; Julia, your unjust disdain They muster like gants in the air: Julia, your unjust disdain Alas, I must leave thee my fair, Moves me to complain; And to my light horsemen repair. You that vow’d to be so true, SHE: Oh stay! Alas, is false and marri’d too; HE: Alas, I must leave thee, Cou’d I drive those thoughts away, SHE: Oh stay! stay, oh stay; HE: Alas, I must leave thee my fair. That rack me ev’ry day, SHE: For you need not to fear ‘em tonight; By your unjust inconstancy; The wind wind is for us and blows full in their sight, Oh! how happy shou’d I be. And o’re the wide ocean we fight; Like leaves in the autumn our foes will fall down, I spy Celia, Celia eyes me And hiss in the water and drown. I spy Celia, Celia eyes me, HE: but their men lye securely intrench’d in a cloud, I approach her, but she fly’s me; And a trumpeter, hornet to battle sounds loud; I persue, more coy I find her; No mortals that spye how we tilt in the sky, I seem colder, then she’s kinder: With wonder will gaze and fear such Her eyes charm me, my words move her, Events as will ne’re come to pass, And I love her, I love her; Stay you to perform what the man wou’d have done. In not blessing, most she blesses, SHE: Then call me agen when the battle is won. And not possessing, each possesses: BOTH: So ready and quick is a spirit of air, Now she blushes, I grow bolder, To pity the lover and succour the fair; She wou’d leave me, but I hold her; That silent and swift the little soft god, She grows angry, I appease her, Is here with a wish and is gone with a nod. 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; Henry Purcell, c.1659-1695 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.

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 When Teucer from his father fled next Baroque Voices concert, featuring music from the very When Teucer from his father fled, early 17th Century, the likes of which influenced Purcell and And from the shore of Salamine; many of his contemporaries a few decades later: 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; Prima le parole, poi la musica… 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: th Let us drink and drown our cares away. To commemorate the 440 anniversary of Monteverdi’s birth, Baroque Voices (dir. Pepe Becker) with Robin Ward (triple harp) ------♦ ------present: “Quarto Libro dei Madrigali”, 4th Book of We fincerely hope you injoyed thif concert, which has Madrigals for 5 voices unaccompanied (1603), and been recorded for fuch occasions as may arise in the other duets and trios with continuo, future when certain audience members and followers of by Claudio Monteverdi (1567-1643) fine musick may wifh to purchafe a copy thereof. 8pm, Sat 7th July 2007, Sacred Heart Cathedral, We also have available for sale tonight some Compact Hill St, Wellington Difks, including our Atoll duet recording entitled “Rustic Admission: $25, $15. Revelry”( releas’d in 2006), which is compris’d of Bach’s Bookings: tel:9736607, www.baroquevoices.co.nz “Peasant Cantata”; and feveral wonderful duets expounding upon the topics of love and wine, the musick ------♦ ------compos’d by the ineffable Mr Henry Purcell.

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