10. The Nightingale
The Nightingale: Whose curious Notes are here explain'd,
in a dainty Ditty sweety fain'd.
To a new and much affected Court Tune.
You Gallants that resort
To Hide Parke or Totnam Court,
To recreate,
And to elevate
Your sences when they are out of date.
Come listen to my Song,
Which doth belong
To the Nightingales sweet tongue:
Tis Musicke rare
To heare this little, pretty, dulcid, dainty Philomel
How she makes the Woods for to ring,
Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet,
Jug, jug, jug, jug, sweet, jug, jug, jug, jug,
The Nightingale doth sing.
The Courtiers in their pride,
Walking by the greene Wood side,
They doe much admire,
When they heare the Quire,º
Of little Birds whose notes aspire,
Above all the rest,
They fancie best
The Nightingales sweet breast,
For she doth straine
Her little pretty, dulcid, dainty, pleasant throat,
With musicke fit for a King,
Sweet...
The Citizens would faine
Heare Philomels sweet straine,
But that they feare
When they come there,
The curious constant Note to heare,
And therefore they refuse
And will not use,
The Woods if they can chuse,
But yet sometimes,
This little, pretty, dulcid, dainty dilly,
They delight to heare in the Spring.
Sweet...
The Prentices doe stray,
Upon the first of May,
To meet their Loves
In the gay greene Groves,
Where every one their fancie proves,
And with Loves delight,
From morne till night,
They feed their appetite;
And while they wooe
This little, pretty, dulcid, dainty creature,
Her musicke to them doth bring,
Sweet...
Uit:' English broadside', 17th century (The Roxburghe Ballad Collection I: 296-297) | 10. The Nightingale
The Nightingale: Whose curious Notes are here explain'd,
in a dainty Ditty sweety fain'd.
To a new and much affected Court Tune.
You Gallants that resort
To Hide Parke or Totnam Court,
To recreate,
And to elevate
Your sences when they are out of date.
Come listen to my Song,
Which doth belong
To the Nightingales sweet tongue:
Tis Musicke rare
To heare this little, pretty, dulcid, dainty Philomel
How she makes the Woods for to ring,
Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet,
Jug, jug, jug, jug, sweet, jug, jug, jug, jug,
The Nightingale doth sing.
The Courtiers in their pride,
Walking by the greene Wood side,
They doe much admire,
When they heare the Quire,º
Of little Birds whose notes aspire,
Above all the rest,
They fancie best
The Nightingales sweet breast,
For she doth straine
Her little pretty, dulcid, dainty, pleasant throat,
With musicke fit for a King,
Sweet...
The Citizens would faine
Heare Philomels sweet straine,
But that they feare
When they come there,
The curious constant Note to heare,
And therefore they refuse
And will not use,
The Woods if they can chuse,
But yet sometimes,
This little, pretty, dulcid, dainty dilly,
They delight to heare in the Spring.
Sweet...
The Prentices doe stray,
Upon the first of May,
To meet their Loves
In the gay greene Groves,
Where every one their fancie proves,
And with Loves delight,
From morne till night,
They feed their appetite;
And while they wooe
This little, pretty, dulcid, dainty creature,
Her musicke to them doth bring,
Sweet...
From:' English broadside', 17th century (The Roxburghe Ballad Collection I: 296-297)
Translation: Ruth van Baak Griffioen
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