IV. A ROBYN JOLLY ROBYN.

In his "Twelfth Night," Shakspeare introduces the Clown singing part of the two first stanzas of the following song; which has been recovered from an ancient manuscript of Dr. Harrington's at Bath, preserved among the many literary treasures transmitted to the ingenious and worthy possessor by a long line of most respectable ancestors. Of these only a small part hath been printed in the "Nuge Antiquæ," 3 vols. 12mo; a work which the public impatiently wishes to see continued.

The song is thus given by Shakspeare, act iv. sc. 2. (Malone's edit. iv. 93.)

CLOWN. Hey Robin, jolly Robin, [singing.]

Tell me how thy lady does.

MALVOLIO. Fool.

CLOWN. My lady is unkind, perdy.

MALVOLIO. Fool.

CLOWN. Alas, why is she so?

MALVOLIO. Fool, I say.

CLOWN. She loves another.-Who calls, ha?

Dr. Farmer has conjectured that the song should begin thus:

Hey, jolly Robin, tell to me

How does thy lady do?
My lady is unkind perdy-
Alas, why is she so?

But this ingenious emendation is now superseded by the proper readings of the old song itself, which is here printed from what appears the most ancient of Dr. Harrington's poetical manuscripts, and which has, therefore, been marked No. I. (scil. p. 68.) That volume seems to have been written in the reign of King Henry VIII. and, as it contains many of the poems of Sir Thomas Wyat, hath had almost all the contents attributed to him, by marginal directions written with an old but later hand, and not always rightly, as, I think, might be made appear by other good authorities. Among the rest, this song is there attributed to Sir Thomas Wyat, also; but the discerning reader will probably judge it to belong to a more obsolete writer.

In the old manuscript, to the third and fifth stanzas is prefixed this title, "Responce," and to the fourth and sixth, “Le Plaintif;" but in the last instance so evidently wrong, that it was thought better to omit these titles, and to mark the changes of the Dialogue by inverted commas. In other respects the manuscript is strictly followed, except where noted in the margin. Yet the first stanza appears to be defective, and it should seem that a line is wanting, unless the four first words were lengthened in the tune.

A ROBYN,

Jolly Robyn,

Tell me how thy lemau doeth,

And thou shalt * knowe of myn.

*"Shall." MS.

"My lady is unkynde perde."

Alack! why is she so?

"She loveth an other better than me; "And yet she will say no."

I fynde no such doublenes:

I fynde women true.

My lady loveth me dowtles,

And will change for no newe.

"Thou art happy while that doeth last; "But I say, as I fynde,

"That women's love is but a blast, "And torneth with the wynde."

Suche folkes can take no harme by love,
That can abide their torn.

"But I alas can no way prove
"In love but lake and morn."

But if thou wilt avoyde thy harme
Lerne this lessen of me,

At others fieres thy selfe to warme,
And let them warme with the.

V. A SONG TO THE LUTE IN MUSICKE.

This sonnet (which is ascribed to Richard Edwards*, in the "Paradise of Daintie Devises," fo. 31, b.) is by Shakspeare made the subject of some pleasant ridicule in his "Romeo and Juliet," act iv. sc. 5, where he introduces Peter putting this question to the musicians.

....

PETER. why silver sound? why "Musicke with her silver sound?" what say you, Simon Catling?

1. Mus. Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound. PET. Pretty! what say you, Hugh Rebecke?

2. Mus. I say, silver sound, because musicians sound for silver.

PET. Pretty too! what say you, James Sound-post?

3. Mus. Faith, I know not what to say.

PET....I will say it for you: It is "Musicke with her silver sound, "because musicians have no gold for sounding. *

Edit. 1793, vol. xiv. p. 529.

This ridicule is not so much levelled at the song itself (which for the time it was written is not inelegant) as at those forced and unnatural explanations often given by us painful editors and expositors of ancient authors.

* Concerning him see Wood's Athen. Oxon. and Tanner's Biblioth. also Sir John Hawkins's Hist. of Music, &c.

This copy is printed from an old quarto manuscript in the Cotton Library (Vesp. A. 25), intitled, "Divers things of Hen. viij's time:" with some corrections from The Paradise of Dainty Devises, 1596.

WHERE gripinge grefes the hart would wounde,
And dolefulle dumps the mynde oppresse,
There musicke with her silver sound

With spede is wont to send redresse:
Of trobled mynds, in every sore,
Swete musicke hathe a salve in store.

In joye yt maks our mirthe abounde,
In woe yt cheres our hevy sprites;
Be-strawghted heads relyef hath founde,
By musickes pleasaunt swete delightes:
Our senses all, what shall I say more?
Are subjecte unto musicks lore.

The Gods by musicke have theire prayse;
The lyfe, the soul therein doth joye:
For, as the Romayne poet sayes,

In seas, whom pyrats would destroy,
A dolphin saved from death most sharpe
Arion playing on his harpe.

O heavenly gyft, that rules the mynd,

Even as the sterne dothe rule the shippe!

O musicke, whom the Gods assinde

To comforte manne, whom cares would nippe! Since thow both man and beste doest move, What beste ys he, wyll the disprove?