A Third collection of new songs, never printed before the words by Mr. D'urfey ; set to music by the best masters in that science, viz. Dr. John Blow, Mr. Henry Purcell, Senior Baptist, Mr. Courtiville, Mr. William Turner, Mr. Thomas Farmer, Mr. John Lenton, Mr. Samuel Ackeroyd ; with thorow-basses for the theorbo, and bass-viol. 1685 Approx. 23 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 16 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2004-03 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A37024 Wing D2788 ESTC R171874 11780597 ocm 11780597 49033

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 Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A37024) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 49033) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 490:20) A Third collection of new songs, never printed before the words by Mr. D'urfey ; set to music by the best masters in that science, viz. Dr. John Blow, Mr. Henry Purcell, Senior Baptist, Mr. Courtiville, Mr. William Turner, Mr. Thomas Farmer, Mr. John Lenton, Mr. Samuel Ackeroyd ; with thorow-basses for the theorbo, and bass-viol. D'Urfey, Thomas, 1653-1723. 1 score ([2], 28 p.) Printed by J.P. for Joseph Hindmarsh ..., London : 1685. Twelve songs, by Ackroyde, Blow, Courteville, Draghi, Farmer, Lenton, Purcell, Turner, and anonymous. Reproduction of original in Huntington Library.

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 eng Songs, English -- England -- 17th century. Songs with continuo. 2003-08 Assigned for keying and markup 2003-09 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2003-12 Sampled and proofread 2003-12 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2004-02 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion

A THIRD COLLECTION OF NEW SONGS, Never Printed before.

The WORDS by Mr. D'URFEY.

Set to MUSIC by the best Masters in that Science, VIZ.

Dr. Iohn Blow. Mr. Henry Purcell. Senior Baptist. Mr. Courtiville. Mr. William Turner. Mr. Thomas Farmer. Mr. Iohn Lenton. Mr. Samuel Akeroyd.

WITH THOROW-BASSES for the Theorbo, and Bass-Viol.

Royall Oake printer's or publisher's device

LONDON, Printed by I. P. for JOSEPH HINDMARSH, at the Golden-Ball over against the Royal-Exchange in Cornhill, 1685.
The STORM: Set to Music by Mr. Henry Purcell.

〈♫〉 BLow, blow Boreas, blow, and let thy sur╌ly Winds make the Billows foam and roar; thou can'st no Terror breed in valiant Minds, but spight of thee we'l live, but spight of thee we'l live and find a Shoar. Then cheer my Hearts, and be not aw'd, but keep the Gun-Room cleer; tho' Hell's broke loose, and the De╌vils roar abroad, whilst we have Sea-room here: 〈♫〉 Boys, never fear, never, never fear. Hey! how she tosses up! how far the mounting Top-mast touch'd a Star; the Meteors blaz'd, as thro' the Clouds we came, and Sa╌la╌man╌der-like, we live in Flame; but now, now we sink, now, now we go down to the deepest Shades below. Alas! a╌las! where are we now! who, who can tell! sure 'tis the low╌est Room of Hell, or where the Sea-Gods 〈♫〉 dwell: With them we'l live, with them we'l live and raign, with them we'l lau╌gh, and sing, and drink amain, with them we'l lau╌gh, and sing, and drink a╌main, but see we mount, see, see we rise a╌gain.

CHORUS.

〈♫〉 THo' fla╌shes of Lightning, and Tem╌pests of Rain, do THo' fla╌shes of Lightning, and Tem╌pests of Rain, do 〈♫〉 fierce╌ly con╌tend which shall conquer the Main; tho' the Captain does fierce╌ly con╌tend which shall conquer the Main; tho' the Captain does swear, in╌stead of a Pray'r, and the Sea is all Fire by the Damons o'th' swear, in╌stead of a Pray'r, and the Sea is all Fire by the Damons o'th' Air; we'l drink and de╌fie, we'l drink and de╌fie the mad Spi╌rits that Air; we'l drink and de╌fie, we'l drink and de╌fie the mad 〈♫〉 fly from the Deep to the Sky, that fly, fli╌e, from the Deep to the Spi╌rits that fly from the Deep to the Sky, that fly from the Deep to the Sky, and sing whilst loud Thunder, and sing whilst loud Thunder does▪ Sky, and sing whilst loud Thun╌der, loud Thunder does bellow; for Fate will still have a kind Fate for the Brave, and ne're make his bellow; for Fate will still have a kind Fate for the Brave, and ne're make his 〈♫〉 Grave of a Salt-water Wave, to drown, to drown, no, never to drown a good Fellow; no, Grave of a Salt-water Wave, to drown, to drown, no, never to drown a good Fellow; no, never, no, never to drown a good Fellow; no, ne╌ver, ne╌ver to drown, no, ne╌ver, ne╌ver to drown a good Fellow; no, never, no, ne╌ver to drown, no, never, no, ne╌ver to drown a good Fellow; no, never, no, never to drown a good Fellow▪ ne╌ver, ne╌ver to drown a good Fellow; no, ne╌ver, ne╌ver to drown a good Fellow

The WINCHESTER CHRISTENING, the Sequel of the Winchester Wedding: A new Song, set to the Tune of a pretty Country Dance, called, The Hemp-dresser.

〈♫〉 THe Sun had loos'd his weary Team, and turn'd his Steeds a grazing; ten Fathoms deep in Neptune's Stream, his The╌tis was embracing: The Stars tripp'd in╌to the Fir╌ma╌ment, like Milkmaids on a May-day; or Coun╌try Las╌ses a Mumming sent, or School-boys on a Play-day.

II. Apace came on the gray-ey'd Morn', The Herds in the Fields were lowing; And 'mongst the Poultry in the Barn, The Ploughman's Clock fate crewing: When Roger dreaming of golden Joys, Was wak'd by a bawling Rout Sir; For Cisly told him, he needs must rise, His Iuggy was crying out Sir. III. Not half so quickly the Cups go round, At the toping a good Ale Firkin; As Roger Hosen and Shoon had found, And button'd his Leather Jerkin: Gray Mare was saddl'd with wondrous speed, With Pillion on Buttock right Sir, And thus he to an old Midwife rid, To bring the poor Kid to light Sir. IV. Up, up, dear Mother, then Roger cries, The Fruit of my Labour's new come; In Iuggy's Belly it sprawling lies, And cannot get out 'till you come. I'le help it, cries the old Hag, ne're doubt, Thy Iug shall be well again Boy; I'le get the Urchin as safely out, As ever it did get in Boy. V. The Mare now Bustles with all her feet, No whipping or Spurs were wanting; At last into the good House they get, And Mew soon cry'd the Bantling: A female Chit so small was born, They put it into a Flagon; And must be christen'd that very Morn', For fear it should dye a Pagan. VI. Now Roger struts about the Hall, As great as the Prince of Condy; The Midwife cries, her Parts are small, But they will grow larger one day: What tho' her Thighs and Legs lye close, And little as any Spider; They will, when up to her Teens she grows, By grace of the Lord lye wider. VII. And now the merry Spic'd-bowls went round, The Gossips were void of shame too; In butter'd Ale the Priest half drown'd, Demands the Infant's Name too, Some call'd it Phill, some Florida, But Kate was allow'd the best hint; For she would have it Cunicula, 'Cause there was a pretty Jest in't. VIII. Thus Cuny of Winchester was known, And famous in Kent and Dover; And highly rated in London Town, And courted the Kingdom over: The Charms of Cuny by Sea and Land, Subdues each human Creature; And will our stubborn Hearts command, Whilst there is a Man, or Nature.
BARTHOLOMEW-FAIR, a Catch; set to Music by Dr. John Blow. 〈♫〉 HEre is the ra╌ri╌ty of the whole Fair, 〈♫〉 Pimper-le-pimp, and the wise dancing Mare; 〈♫〉 here's va╌liant St. George and the Dra╌gon, a Farce, 〈♫〉 a Girl of Fifteen with strange Moles on her A——. 〈♫〉 Here is Vi╌en╌na be╌sieg'd a rare thing, 〈♫〉 and here's Pun╌chi╌nel╌lo shown thrice to the King: 〈♫〉 Then see the Masks to the Cloi╌ster re╌pair, 〈♫〉 but there will be no Raffling, a pox take the May'r.
The SHUTTLECOCK; a new Song, set to a pretty Scotch Tune by Mr. Courtiville.

〈♫〉 HAve you seen Bat╌tle╌dore play, where the Shuttlecock fly's to and fro one? Or, have you no╌ted an A╌pe╌ril-day, now rai╌ning, now shining, now warming, now storming? Ah! just, just such as these is a Woman. Love and true Me╌rit do seldom pre╌vail, for always we hold a wet Eel by the Tail, their Tongues ne're are i╌dle, the 〈♫〉 Humour's a Rid╌dle they prick with their Needle, and o╌gle and wheedle; and if they have Charms, 'tis rare╌ly that Beau╌ty is true t'ye, for few or none you are sure are your own, but in your Arms.

LOVE UNBLINDED; a new Song, set to Music by Mr. William Turner.

〈♫〉 MY Life and my Death were once in your pow'r, I languish'd each mo╌ment, and dy'd ev'╌ry hour; but now your ill u╌sage has o╌pen'd my Eyes, I can free my poor Heart, and give o╌thers Advice: By Dis╌sem╌bling and Lies the Cocquet may be won, but he that loves faith╌ful╌ly, will be undone.

II. Time was, false Aurelia, I thought you as bright As Angels adorn'd in the Glories of Light; But your Pride and Ingratitude now, I thank Fate, Have taught my dull Sence to distinguish the Cheat: And now I can see in your Face no such Prize, No Charms in your Person, no Darts in your Eyes. III. Fain, fain for your sake my Amours I would end, And the rest of my days give my Books, and my Friend; But another kind Fair calls me fool, to destroy, For the sake of one Jilt, my whole Life's greatest Joy: For tho' Friends, Wine, and Books, make Life's Diadem shine, Love, Love is the Jewel that makes it so fine.
The STORM; set to Music by Mr. Henry Purcell.

〈♫〉 FArewel ye Rocks, ye Seas, and Sands, green Neptune I de╌spise; I'le ra╌ther court the plea╌sant Strands, than all his wa╌try Joys: In╌con╌stant Bliss our Fate be╌guiles, the Sea like Love we 〈♫〉 find; where Calms are like fair Cynthia's Smiles, and frowns like gusts of Wind. Hear the noise of the Tar╌paw╌lin Boys; Port, port, Port, port, port, hear the noise of the port, Luff bawl aft the Sheet is the Ma╌ri╌ner's Wit: A Tarpawlin Boys: A plague of their plague of their ig╌no╌rant Prattle, and send me to Land, and send me to ig╌no╌rant, ig╌no╌rant Prattle; and send me to Land, where 〈♫〉 Land, where I may com╌mand a pret╌ty kind Wench, a I may com╌mand a pret╌ty kind Wench, a pret╌ty kind pret╌ty kind Wench, and a Bot╌tle. pret╌ty kind Wench, and a Bot╌tle.

II. With all God's Miracles at Land, Let me acquainted be; Let Fools that more would understand, Go find them out at Sea. His mighty Works I'le praise on Shore, And there his Blessings reap; But from this moment seek no more His Wonders in the Deep.

Chor. Port, port, &c.

III. The Merchant, when his Sails are furl'd, Glides o're the foamy Main; And ploughs with ease the watry World, So great a Charm is Gain: When Avarice has any Bounds, If his contented were; I'd wage a hundred thousand Pounds, He never would come there.

Chor. Port, port, &c.

The PERFECTION; a new Song to the Dutchess: Set to Music by Dr. John Blow.

〈♫〉 WE all to conqu'ring Beauty bow, its plea╌sing Pow'r ad╌mire; but I ne're knew a Face 'till now, that like yours could inspire. Now I may say, I met with one a╌ma╌zes all Mankind; and 〈♫〉 like Men ga╌zing on the Sun, with too much Light am blind.

II. Soft as the tender moving Sighs, When longing Lovers meet; Like the divining Prophets wise, And like blown Roses sweet: Modest, yet gay; reserv'd, yet free; Each happy Night a Bride; A Mein like awful Majesty, And yet no spark of Pride. III. The Patriarch, to gain a Wife, Chast, beautiful, and young, Serv'd fourteen Years a painful Life, And never thought 'em long. Ah! were you to reward such Cares, And Life so long could stay; Not fourteen, but four hundred Years, Would seem but as one Day.
A new SONG; set to Music by Mr. Thomas Farmer.

〈♫〉 WHy! why! oh ye Pow'rs that rule the Sky! must the Love╌sick Damon dye? When the Nymph is at ease, he admires; she that cau╌ses my groaning, and kills with frowning, for Love her hard Heart could ne╌ver in╌spire: Ah! leave me to pain, still since 'tis in vain, still to per╌swade, or change the fair cru╌el Maid.

II. Down, down, By a Brook I'le lay me down, Where the Stream does sadly run, Whose Waves my Tears shall still encrease; Oh ye merciless Powers! That talk of showers Of Joys in Heaven poor Mortals possess! Ah! if you would have me Ever believe Joys after Death, Give me her to strengthen my Faith.
The DISTRUST; a new Song set to Music by Mr. John Lenton.

〈♫〉 NO, sil╌ly Clo╌ris! tell me no such Stories, true gen'rous Love can ne╌ver un╌do ye; when I de╌sert ye, let af╌fe╌cted Vir╌tue charm ev'╌ry Fop that now does pur╌sue ye: 〈♫〉 Search all hu╌man Nature, try ev'╌ry Creature, stu╌dy all Complexions, ev'╌ry Face and Feature; and when e're I dye, you'l too late de╌scry none e╌ver yet did love so well as I.

II. Curse on Ambition, What a bless'd condition Lovers were in not aw'd by that Daemon; Then cruel Cloris! Careless of Vain-Glories, Would reap more Bliss than Pride e're could dream on: We should have no dying, No Self-denying, Sighings or Repulses, When the Soul is flying; But truly wise, Dirt she would despise, And own her Love the Crown of all her Joys.
The PASSION; set to Music by Mr. Samuel Akeroyd.

〈♫〉 BY all the Pow'rs! I love you so, nothing's so dear to me below; and when I would your Scorn forsake, some An╌gel turns, and brings me back: Al-tho' my Heart's not fool'd with ease, yet you may break it when you please; 'tis no╌ble, and does ra╌ther dare to dye, than languish and de╌spair.

II. Ah! tell me not that Men deceive, But if you'd be believ'd, believe: My Heart, like Tapers, shut in Urns, Whilst Love gives Matter ever burns: Since kindness has resistless Charms, And Beauty, wanting Youth, decays; Make hast, and fly into my Arms, And crown my bless'd remaining Days.
A Dialogue betwixt ALEXIS and SYLVIA: Set to Music by Mr. Henry Purcell. Alexis.

〈♫〉 SIT down my dear Sylvia, and then tell me, tell me true, when we the fierce pleasure of Pas╌sion first knew; what Senses were charm'd, and what Raptures did dwell with╌in thy fond Heart, my dear 〈♫〉 Nymph! prethee tell! That when thy Delights in their ful╌ness are known, I may have the joy to re╌late all my own,

 Sylvia.

Oh fye, my A╌lex╌is! how dare you pro╌pose to me sil╌ly Girl, things im╌mo╌dest as those! Nice Can╌dor and Mo╌de╌sty glow in my Breast, whose Ver╌tue can ut╌ter no Words so un╌shaft; but if your im╌pa╌tience ad╌mits no de╌lay, de╌scribe 〈♫〉 your own Raptures, and teach me the way.

Alexis.

〈♫〉 A Pain mix'd with Pleasure my Sen╌ses first found, when crowds of Delight strait my Heart did surround; a Joy so trans╌por╌ting, I sigh'd when 'twas done, and fain would re╌new, but a╌las! all was gone: Coy Na╌ture was trea╌che╌rous, when first she meant a Treasure so pre╌cious so soon should be spent; coy 〈♫〉 Na╌ture was trea╌che╌rous, when first she meant a Trea╌sure so pre╌cious so soon should be spent.

 Sylvia.

〈♫〉 This free kind Con╌fes╌sion does so much pre╌vail, that I in your Bo╌som would blush out my Tale; but Dea╌rest, you know 'tis too much to de╌clare the Ioys that our Souls, when u╌ni╌ted, do share. Let this then suf╌fice, if the Plea╌sure could last, a Saint would leave 〈♫〉 Heav'n, a Saint would leave Heav'n still so to be blest, still so, so, so to be blest.

CHORUS.

〈♫〉 LET this then suffice, if the Pleasure could last, a Saint would leave Heav'n, a LET this then suffice, if the Pleasure could last, a Saint would leave Saint would leave Heav'n still so to be blest, still so, so, so to be blest. Heav'n, a Saint would leave Heav'n still so to be blest, still so, so to be blest.

On AUGUSTUS and SOPHRONIA; set to Music by Senior Baptist.

〈♫〉 AV╌gu╌stus crown'd with Ma╌je╌sty, his weigh╌ty Cares re╌mo╌ving, be╌held his World, but nought could spy, worth Roy╌al Thought, but Lo╌ving: A Sy╌nod of the Gods ap╌pear, and vote their Sa╌cred Sence; that none but the di╌vi╌nest Fair, should bless the greatest Prince.

II. Sophronia their Command obeys, Sophronia their chief Blessing; With Dove-like Innocence, her Face Was sweet beyond expressing: A Time commanding Beauty must, While the World lasts, be fine; And when the World is shook to dust, The Sun will cease to shine. FINIS.