that of these most men, almost all men are capable, that are not altogether unmusical; neither can he that is most spiteful say, but they are very delightful, aye, and someway gainful too (yet more painful to me, I am sure, than gainful); but tho' there be but little to be gotten by them, yet pity were it such mirth should be forgotten of us; and therefore, to make an end, I say no more, but

. . Si quid novisti dulcius istis,

Candidus imperti; si non, his utere mecum;

either commend me or come mend me, and so I end me, as resolute as thou art dissolute."

Oliphant's comments on the above are:

"From the foregoing preface it is, I think, quite clear that Deuteromelia is a second publication by the editor of Pammelia. The terms K. H. mirth and Freemen's songs have given rise to considerable discussion. It is supposed that the former stands for King Henry's mirth; that is, songs or catches of a merry nature, which were favourites with that jovial prince. I think it likely to be so, but am not aware of anything either for or against the matter, except conjecture.

"How the meaning of Freemen's songs could ever appear doubtful, I know not, nor can I imagine how Warren could be guilty of such a stupid mistake as to suppose that Freeman was the name of a composer; for in his collection is inserted Of all the birds that I ever see, (which is one of the three part Freemen's songs in Deuteromelia), with the name prefixed of Nicholas Freeman, 1667! nearly sixty years after the original publication. Ritson has some absurd notion of Freemen being a mistake for Three-men, because Shakspeare speaks of Three-men-song men, that is, men who could sing songs of three parts: but if he ever saw the book of which I am now writing, he must there have found also Freemen's songs to

four voices, which sets that matter at rest. Drayton, in his • Legend of Thomas Cromwell, Earl of Essex,' puts the following verses in that nobleman's mouth:

"Of Freemen's Catches to the Pope I sing,

Which wan much license to my countrymen;
Thither the which I was the first to bring,
That were unknown in Italy till then.'

"He went to Italy in the year 1510."

Nevertheless, the weight of evidence seems to be in favour of the derivation from "Three men," and the overwhelming majority of catches and "Freemen's Songs" are in three parts, as we shall see in the succeeding chapter.

CHAPTER X.

Bacchanalian Music, continued - A Scottish Melody Used by Shakespeare Table-music in Elizabethan Days - Refrains of Catches and Ballads Hunt's-ups Serenades Morning Songs.

We have already seen that the chief bacchanalian music of Shakespeare is to be found in "Twelfth Night," while the leading tavern-scenes are to be discovered in the two parts of "King Henry IV." Nevertheless, to our collection of musical vagabonds must be added a rascal of much deeper dye, a man who seems a living proof that the music-maker, as well as the music-hater, "is fit for treason, stratagem, and spoils," Iago. The scene ("Othello," Act ii. Sc. 3) where the crafty Iago, by simulated good-fellowship, leads Cassio to his intoxication and ruin

Cassio. 'Fore Heaven, an excellent song.

[Wine brought in.

Iago. I learned it in England, where (indeed) they are most potent in potting; your Dane, your German, and your swag-bellied Hollander, Drink, ho! Drink, ho! — are nothing to your

English.

Cassio. Is your Englishman so expert in his drinking? Iago. Why, he drinks you, with facility, your Dane dead drunk.

Iago. O sweet England!

'King Stephen was a worthy peer,

His breeches cost him but a crown;
He held them sixpence all too dear,
With that he call'd the tailor-lown

He was a wight of high renown,

And thou art but of low degree:

'Tis pride that pulls the country down,

Then take thine auld cloak about thee.'

Some wine, ho!

Cassio. Why, this is a more exquisite song than the other. Iago. Will you hear it again?

Cassio. No; for I hold him to be unworthy of his place, that does those things."

Of the first song the original music is not traceable,' but the second snatch of rollicking music can be traced home; it was sung to an old Scottish melody. 'A somewhat similar catch, however, by Doctor Byrd, is given in the collection called "Pammelia " (1609), running:

"Come drink to me,

And I to thee,

And then shall we

Full well agree.

"I've loved the jolly tankard

Full seven winters and more;

I loved it so long,

That I went upon the score.

We give the melody both with its original and its Shakespearian words.

In the preceding chapter we have seen the music of the tavern called a (6 noise," and the name was by no means misapplied, for much of this minstrelsy was of the loudest description. Not only was this the case, but table-music (i. e. music played during meals) in general was liked in proportion to its loudness by many of the less cultivated patrons, even those of high rank. Writing of Queen Elizabeth's table-music, an authority says:

I

"Elizabeth used to be regaled during dinner with twelve trumpets and two kettle-drums; which, together with fifes, cornets, and side-drums, made the hall ring for half an hour together."

It may be incidentally mentioned that the word "table-music" was also used in another sense in the seventeenth century. Two, three, four, or more singers would often sit at a table, instead of standing, while executing their music; such compositions as were printed with the intention of being thus sung

"Who loveth not the tankard,

He is no honest man;
And he is no right soldier,
That loveth not the can.

"Tap the cannikin, trole the cannikin,
Toss the cannikin, turn the cannikin.

Hold now, good son, and fill us a fresh can,

That we may quaff it round from man to man.”

'P. Hentzner's "Itinerarium,” p. 53.