Organ Recital at St.Lawrence's Church

The reason I was late getting to the rendezvous was that I had actually left St.Lawrence's and was following you into the churchyard when I heard the organist begin a fugue. I'm sure most organists of the time could have played this piece perfectly competently, but what caught my ear was a subtlety in the rubato that suggested this was not just a typically good musician, but someone quite extraordinary. Of course, it would have to be someone extraordinary to be engaged by a Duke. So I popped back inside and settled down to listen (of course!).

Click to listen

Having apparently satisfied himself that his practice for the day was sufficient, the organist collected his books and a few loose sheets, and was leaving the organ loft when I waylaid him. This was one of those "Wow!" moments for me. My first meeting with Georg Frideric Haendel, or as he is known in England, George Frederick Handel.

Mr.Handel is of average height, allowing an inch or so perhaps for his shoes and peruke, clean-shaven and nicely pomaded. The portrait of him which I include below was made later in his life, but now, in his early thirties he is already developing that well-fed corpulence, and moves with an easy, relaxed gait, even climbing down the slightly awkward stairs from the organ loft.

I drop a respectful curtsey; "Have I the pleasure of addressing the noted Mr. Handel, sir?"

"Goot Afternoon, Mattam. I am indeed Mr.Hantel, and might Mr.Hantel haf tse honor of knowink whom duss he attress?"

Introducing myself in persona as the representative of a tailor, I seize the opportunity of asking Mr.Handel about the music he was playing, and hopefully I shall have an opportunity to learn more about his engagement at Cannons.

"Tse piece fitch I belief you ver askink about voss my fugue in G major. I tsink perhaps a leetle more polish, and I shall seek to publish it abroad."

Among other things which we discuss, walking back to Cannons, I learn that Mr.Handel is engaged to provide new music for entertainments hosted by the Duke, and sometimes leads the small band from the harpsichord. His grace, it seems, is not so much a performer himself, as an Apollo of the arts, preferring to use his beneficence to encourage the arts (and Mr.Handel is nothing if not a perfect diplomat in discussing matters relating to his employer).

"Shall I have the pleasure of hearing you play again on Sunday, Mr.Handel?"

"I tsink not Mattam. Unless you fill be joinink his Krace in tse chapel at tse house."

At this I am obliged to seek some explanation for his presence in St.Lawrence's.

"Tse church hass a razzer fine acoustic for tse organ, and recrettably, his Krace's chapel is not yet completet, howeffer, tse verkmen fill make it retty for tse diffine serfice on Suntay."

Finally, before we part company, me to the rendezvous point, and Mr.Handel to return to his chambers within the house, I can't resist asking if Mr.Handel knows of any talented blacksmiths in the village?

"Tsere iss vun fellow, but I fould not fenture to assay his talent as a smit. Tsough I am sure he is as capaple a farrier as any man fitin fife miles. Haff you a horse in neet of shoeink?"

His expression betrays a mixture of curiosity and mild surprise. I think it is time I thanked him for his company and made haste to the rendezvous.

"Mattam, it hass been my pleshur, and a ferry goot afternoon to you also."

References

Have I whetted your appetite to learn more about fugal composition?

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The Music of Cannons

Don't panic! There's no artillery involved. Our destination is Cannons, the stately home of the Earl of Caernarfon and first Duke of Chandos, James Brydges (if we should see the gentleman himself, the correct form of address is your Grace. But don't speak unless you're spoken to).
As is fairly common for the time, the house is open to visitors having business with the household, or members of the peerage, so I think if we present ourselves as representatives of a little-known but promising tailoring business, we should stand a good chance of getting in. These aristocratic types are always keen to have the latest fashions, and it wasn't difficult to obtain a collection of fine fabric swatches and a couple of recent pattern-books as we zoomed through France on the way here. Which reminds me, if we ever have occasion to travel by coach, bring a few cushions. As well-padded as this dress is, previous experience taught me that you can't have enough padding beneath you when you go over the bumps. And unless the weather is warm already, wrap up warmly too. There's no practical way to heat a coach.

While we're waiting for his grace's chamberlain, there's so much to take in. This whole place is money personified! I think the painting is Hercules in the palace of Omphale, and the sheer scale of it makes it so much more impressive. Literally Herculean! (The other thing, if you're going to have any dealings with aristocrats; it helps to have to have a bit of background in the classics).
Well, some things we can do, but some things will forever be beyond our control, and it seems that his grace is otherwise occupied today. How do you feel about sauntering down to St.Lawrence's church? The Duke had the church extensively rebuilt a few years ago, and by all accounts it is as sumptuous as the house.
When we arrive at St.Lawrence's, the exterior of the church has been remodelled in the neo-classical style, while the interior is the most astonishing display of opulence, everywhere is marble, gold, and rich dark wood. And the organist is practising a hymn tune:

References

I am indebted to the following sites. I hope you will take a moment to visit them:
A Church Near You
The Web Gallery of Art

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The Italian Job

Don't tell me I look like a tramp, I already know. In fact, I worked quite hard to achieve this look.
One of the problems of trying to get to know someone famous is that, often, simply because they are famous, they don't have huge amounts of time to get to know everybody else. So it's often much simpler to be a nobody, and get to know somebody who knows somebody, and just once in a great while, you can get close.
Which is why I am dressed in this second-best last year outfit, and peddling a selection of glass beads. (The beads, by the way, were laughably inexpensive, although if I were really who I appear to be, they would have cost me a year's worth of careful savings, and they're so beautiful it's a great temptation to take a few back with me).

Now, let me introduce you to Proserpina Belmonte. Don't be fooled by the hare lip or that mole beside her nose. She may be a tad on the homely side, but she can play! Before you got here she was sitting outside the palazzo (yes, well they're all palazzo's along here) playing a piece for mandolin. I thought it sounded familiar, so I strolled over to see if I could interest her in some parmesan cheese. (I bought it from a trader who was coming down from the Vicenza area before heading south to Ferrara).
Well, after expressing my appreciation of her beautiful playing we got to talking, and I asked her what the song was that she played. It turns out that it was the andante from a concerto for two mandolins, by Padre Vivaldi who runs the girls choir at the Ospedale della Piétà*!
Proserpina (she goes by 'Pina) told me she was a beneficiary of the Ospedale, and a student under Padre Vivaldi until she was eighteen, at which point she was more than ready to take on the world. (And all the while she was telling me this, she was talking, like a typical Italian, with her hands). I had to ask what she meant by that last statement, since I had always had a mental image of Vivaldi as the gentle, creative, kindly priest who churned out music as fast as the musicians could play it (some wit once quipped that Vivaldi didn't write five hundred concerti, he wrote one concerto, five hundred times!).
Perhaps unfortunately for Vivaldi's reputation, by the late twentieth century, it was a fair assumption that anyone who had ridden in an elevator had been subjected to a rather mechanical reproduction of one of his best-known suites, the Quatre Stagione (Four Seasons).
Pina laughed scornfully at my rosy description! It turns out, (at least according to her) that he was the foulest, most irritable, sweaty, smelly creature ever to walk God's blessed Earth. He frequently suffered from shortness of breath (asthma?), and when he did, his temper which was short at the best of times, just evaporated completely. She recounted one occasion when his scathing comments reduced one of the girls in the choir to a sobbing wreck, quite unable to continue the rehearsal, and indeed, it was only a matter of a few weeks before she left the Ospedale, indentured to a modestly wealthy merchant family. She also told me how the young ladies nicknamed their slavedriver Il Prete Rosso (the Red Priest), not so much for his hair, but his tendency to turn puce when enraged.
She doesn't mind telling me a little about her experiences in the Ospedale either. She has no memory of her parents, and the sisters of the Ospedale would only ever tell her that she was "a child of God". She never went hungry, or without clothing or shelter at night, but sometimes she wondered what her parents had been like. After leaving the Ospedale, she worked for a couple of years for a bookseller, and it was during that period that she met her husband, Guido. When he first came to the bookseller he was looking for a pattern book that he could use as a guide for decorative carvings for his building work. His clothing was covered in stone dust, and his hair was slicked down from rinsing himself off before leaving work.

Click on the gramophone to listen to the music below.

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Stand and Deliver!

I accept a certain amount of risk as an occupational hazard of travelling in time, so I suppose I have to accept the consequences when I find myself in the middle of a hazardous situation, although to be honest, it doesn't happen very often. One of the easiest ways I've found to infiltrate myself into a time and place is to join a travelling party early in the day as they prepare to set out. Of course, that also means I am accepting the same risk as my fellow-travellers, of being intercepted and robbed on the road, and in May of 1721 my complacency about the potential risk was confronted with the reality in the middle of Epping Forest, miles from the nearest village. It took me a few minutes to realize what was happening when we were ordered to disembark from the coach in which we were travelling. A number of possible causes for our unscheduled halt ran through my mind:

• One of the horses had been lamed? (during the ride one of my companions told me how a couple of years ago, the Essex Gang, led by Mr.Turpin, sowed the road with caltrops, laming the horses of an express team in a most cruel manner).
  
• A wheel had come off the coach? (unlikely, the coach would probably have tipped)
• A fallen tree blocking the road?

When I saw the masked horseman pointing a flintlock pistol I got the shock of my adventurous life. One of the most notorious highwaymen of the period is "Dick" Turpin, originally an Essex lad, who served his apprenticeship as a butcher and has become notorious for his daring and violent robberies. He has already outlived the Essex Gang with whom he allied for a while; apparently his cavalier disregard for hazard was more than they felt their lives justified. But it seems my concerns were not altogether justified; our interrogator's manners were very much those of a gentleman, assisting myself and an older lady in dismounting from the coach (not the easiest maneuver in a hoopskirt), and while he would not spare any coin or jewelry, at least he apologized to us for inconveniencing us so rudely.
X:1
T:Air XX, March in Rinaldo with Drums and Trumpets % title
T:Adapted by John Gay for The Beggar's Opera
C: % composer
O:http://www.gutenberg.org/files/25063/25063-h/music/air_XX.pdf % origin.
M:C % meter
L:1/8 % length of shortest note
Q: % tempo
K:Bb % key
V:1 % voice 1
z2 z2 DE | F4 F4 | F6 Bc | dcde d2 d2 |
w:Let us take the Road. Hark! I hear the Sound of Coach-es!
d4 f4 | dcde d2 d2 | d4 f3 e | e2 cd edcB |
w:The Hou-r of At-tack ap-proach-es, To your Arms, bra-ve Boy-s an-d
c6 || AB | c4 c4 | !trill! c6 f2 | FGAB c2 d2 |
w:load. See the Ball I hold! Let the Chy-mists toil like Ass-
e4 f3 e | d2 cd edcB | c2 F2 f3 e | dcBc !trill! c3 B |
w:es, Our Fire their Fi-re sur--pas--ses And turns all our Lead__ to_
B6 |]
w:Gold.
Our assailant did, however, unhitch one of the team of horses, which he took with him. While the animal might not be broken to saddle, and difficult to ride, it still represents a considerable loss to the coaching company. The shortfall in the team means that any further progress will be painfully slow, and some of us will have to continue on foot, alongside the coach. And I will probably have to explain to my director the loss of a couple of items of antique jewelry, which cannot be replaced. The music, which I thought would be appropriate to this little adventure, is from the Beggar's Opera by John Gay, produced by John Rich, which as one wag put it,

made Gay rich, and Rich gay

After I got back here a little research suggested that the most likely identity for our assailant would be "Captain" King, so called because of his delightfully gallant manners! To convert the code above to sheet music, or listen to the tunes, copy the code for a single song, then paste it here and [submit].

Black Coffee

The Playhouse A Satyr,

by Robert Gould,

1685

The Middle Galle'ry first demands our View; The filth of Jakes, and stench of ev'ry Stew! Here reeking Punks like Ev'ning Insects swarm; The Polecat's Perfume much the Happier Charm...

Discreet in this, their Faces not to shew; The Mask the best Complexion of the two. Their Noses falling and their Eyes sunk in, A wrinkl'd Forehead and a Parchment Skin...

Choak't with the stench of Brimstone, 'twill be fit To Visit next the Boxes and the Pit, And for the Muse a Nobler Scene prepare, And let Her breathe awhile in Milder Air.

But such a sudden Glare invades her Eyes, So vast a Crowd of diffe'rent Vanities, She knows where not to fix her Rancour first; So very Wicked all, that all are worst!...

Such Giddy Insects here for ever come, And very little Dare, but much Presume: Perpetually the Ladies Ears they Ply, And whisper Slander at the Standers by:

Then laugh aloud; which now is grown a part Of Play-house Breeding, and of Courtly Art. The true Sign of Your Modish Beau Garson Is Chatt'ring like a Ladies lewd Baboon,

Shewing their Teeth to charm some pretty creature; For Grinning, amoung Fops, is held a Feature...
All People now, the Place is grown so ill, Before they see a Play shou'd make their Will:

For with much more Security , a Man Might take a three Years Voyage to Japan.

Having walked north from Westminster Abbey we probably have an hour or two before Drury Lane theatre begins the evening performance, and since we're in the vicinity of several coffee houses it seems a good place to stop, wet our whistles and ask about what's playing.

Inside the atmosphere of mouth-watering coffee scent is underlaid by the whiff of smoke from clay pipes. The variety of coffees and chocolate on offer is bewildering, with so many spices and roasts to choose from I think we would be justified in spending a few minutes considering before we choose.

I'm glad you insisted on Will's Coffee House (can't miss it, look for the sign of the Rose), rather than the Turk's Head which I thought looked like a good bet. I've heard several people discussing recent plays since we settled at this table. The impression I get is that most of the plays aren't staged for very long; a week or two at most and the audiences are ready for something new.

The small huddle of gentlemen engaged in conversation a few tables over has been dwindling since we came in, and now the last two have left and I recognize the face of Mr.Dryden. I think we should invite him to join us at our table.

"Have I the honour of addressing Mr. Dryden?"

"You have, sir. Though few enough would count it an honour these days."

"Then might I invite you to share our table for a few minutes, and we shall count it both an honour and a pleasure, sir."

What I am hoping is that we might be able to find out if any of Dryden's plays are currently on the stage, but it seems that since he lost his position as Poet Laureate seven years ago, even his plays have lost their lustre with the public. I can quite understand his slightly melancholy mood.

However, as he tells us, he is free now to work on something that has interested him since his collegiate days; a translation of the works of Publius Virgilius Maro. Once he starts explaining the fascination of the classical poet's works, his face lights up with a new enthusiasm.

Returning eventually to the question of the London stage, I ask whether he knows what is playing at present, that might be worth the cost of admission.

It seems that the only play he feels would be worth our time, and that more for the theatrical music than the play itself, is a revival of Abdelazer, or The Moor's Revenge by the late Aphra Behn, as a series of benefit performances for the widow of Michael Mohun. Although she was widowed more than a decade ago, she has always been supportive of the acting community, and being unable to work because of increasingly painful arthritis, reluctantly sought their help.

While we are talking, we are joined once more by the familiar figure of Mr.Pepys. As soon as introductions have been made (I am flattered that Samuel Pepys remembers us by the sound of our voices, from our previous encounter in the Lloyds Coffee House), Mr.Pepys cautions us against the Orange Girls.

These traders visit the playhouses to sell fruit at extortionate prices, and Pepys himself tells us how:

The orange-woman did come in the pit and challenge me for twelve oranges, which she delivered by my order at a late play, at night, to give to some ladies in a box, which was wholly untrue, but yet she swore it to be true. But, however, I did deny it, and did not pay her; but , for quiet, did buy 4s.¹ worth of oranges of her, at 6d. a-piece.'

Dryden summarises the play for us as follows: it was published in 1657 and tells the story of a vengeful wicked Moor, whose kingdom has been vanquished by Spain, who tires of his affair with the lascivious Queen of Spain and plots with her to murder the King, thinking to murder her afterwards, and reign with his innocent young wife. However, the Queen in her turn kills his wife, and plots to take her son’s throne. It is full of action with armies engaged on stage, people in disguise escaping from imprisonment and torture and a final act in which the wicked are punished and the good prince wins the throne.²

If Mr.Dryden felt that the music for the play was better than the play itself, I can hardly disagree with him. From the play, here is Mr. Henry Purcell's Rondeau.

X:4 % number T:Rondeau % title C:Henry Purcell % composer O:Music for Abdelazer or The Moor's Revenge (Dolce Edition) % origin. M:3/4 % meter L:1/8 % length of shortest note Q: % tempo P:ABACA %%staves Sop | {Hr1 Hr2 Hl} V:Sop name="Soprano" sname="S." clef=treble V:Hr1 name="Harpsichord" sname="Hp." clef=treble V:Hr2 clef=treble V:Hl clef=bass K:F % key P:A %1===============================2====================3================4================= [V:Sop]|: D2 F2 A2 | de/f/ g/f/e/d/ ^c2 | ad/f/ a/f/d b2 | gc/e/ g/e/c a2 | [V:Hr1]|: [FDA,]2 [FDA,]2 [EA,]2 | F G/A/ B2 [AE^C]2 | A2 d2 d/B/G | [cGC]4 c/A/F | [V:Hr2]|: Z | D2 DG z2 | D4 z2 | Z | [V:Hl] |: d2 d2 c2 | B2 G2 A2 | f4 g2 | e4 f2 | % %5=====================6=================7=======================8========================== [V:Sop] fB/d/ f/d/B g2 | eA/^c/ e/c/A f2 | e/f/e/d/ ^cf e/f/e/d/ | Ad ^c/d/e/c/ !fine! d2 :| [V:Hr1] [BFD]4 B/G/E | [AEA,]4 A/F/D | [BD]2 [AE^C]2 [GD]2 | GF E2 [FDA,]2 :| [V:Hr2] Z | Z | Z | ^CD A,2 z2 :| [V:Hl] d4 e2 | ^c4 d2 | G2 A2 B2 | A4 d2 :| % P:B %9========================10=====================11=====================12===================== [V:Sop] F2 A2 c2 | fg/a/ b/a/g/f/ ef/g/ | ab/a/ ga/g/ fF/G/ | ab/a/ ga/g/ Ff/e/ | [V:Hr1] [CA,]2 [FC]2 [GC]2 | AB/c/ [dBF]2 [cGE]2 | [cAF]2 [cGC]2 A=B | [cE]2 [GE]2 [cFC]2 | [V:Hr2] Z | F2 z2 z2 | z2 z2 F2 | Z | [V:Hl] f4 e2 | d2 B2 c2 | c2 B2 A2 | c2 B2 A2 | % %13=========================14====================15====================16============================ [V:Sop] de/d/ cd/c/ Bg/f/ | ef/e/ de/d/ Ca/g/ | fg/f/ ef/e/ dg | cf e/f/g/e/ f2 || [V:Hr1] [BFD]2 [cFC]2 [BGD]2 | [GEC]2 [GD]2 [AEC]2 | [AFD]2 [AE]2 AB/A/ | [GE][AF] [GEC]2 [AFC]2 || [V:Hr2] Z | Z | z2 z2 FD | Z || [V:Hl] B2 A2 G2 | c2 B2 A2 | d2 c2 B2 | c4 F2 || % P:C %17===============================18============================19============================= [V:Sop] !trill! c>d c/d/e f/e/d/c/ | !trill! =B>c B/c/d e/d/c/B/ | !trill! c>d c/d/e f/e/d/c/ | [V:Hr1] [AEC]4 [cE]2 | [=BE]4 [BE]2 | [AEC]4 [AFD]2 | [V:Hr2] Z | Z | Z | [V:Hl] a2 A2 a2 | ^f2 e2 g2 | a2 A2 d2 | % %20======================21============================22===========================23============================= [V:Sop] !trill! c3 =B A2 | !trill! e>f e/f/g a/g/f/e/ | !trill! f>g f/g/a b/a/g/f/ | !trill! e>f e/f/g a/g/f/e/ | [V:Hr1] A2 ^G2 [AEC]2 | ^c>d c/d/e f/e/d/c/ | d>e d/e/f g/f/e/d/ | ^c>d c/d/e f/e/d/c/ | [V:Hr2] [E=B,]4 z2 | [AE]4 A2 | A4 B2 | A4 A2 | [V:Hl] e4 A2 | a2 ^c'2 a2 | d'2 d2 g2 | a2 A2 d2 | % %24=========================================== [V:Sop][L:1/32] f6g2 !trill! g6fg !D.C.! a8 || [V:Hr1] [dAF]2 [dGD]2 [^cAE]2 || [V:Hr2] Z || [V:Hl] dc B2 A2 || To convert the code above to sheet music, or listen to the tunes, copy the code for a single song, then paste it here and [submit]. If you know the music of Benjamin Britten, you might also recognize this as the theme for his "Young Person's Guide to the Orchestra".

Notes

1. English currency before decimalisation:

Pounds	Shillings	Pence
£	s.	d.

2. I would like to acknowledge Dawn Lewcock's article for a summary of the plot.

The Queen is dead. Long Live the King.

"'at's Queen Mary. She choked on a plum."
"she did not. You bin listenin' to Possle again encha? 'E don't know nuffin' so 'e makes it up."
My two young advisers are a couple of Thames mudlarks, urchins who, in the absence of better employment, contribute to their families welfare by searching the mud of the riverbank at low tide for dropped valuables and the occasional coin. Although they're equally likely to be found knocking hats off unwary heads with a well-aimed stone. And only the sharpest wits are ever likely to see exactly where the missile originated.
"'ere 'e is nah. Wotcha Possle!"
"Permit me to introduce myself sirs. I have the honour to be your humble servant, Oliver Postlethwaite, apothecary surgeon".
Possle is a rather tatty-looking character with stockings that don't quite match and a pervasive odour of stale urine.
"If I may be so bold sir, your complexion suggests that you suffer from a weakness of the stones, for which I can offer a very efficacious remedy."
He may be half-wasted, but Possle's diagnosis is worryingly accurate, at least to the point of identifying that I have a very feminine appearance.
We are here on the edges of a crowd that is still assembling outside Westminster Abbey to pay our final respects to the late Queen Mary(or just take advantage of an excuse to close the shop for an hour or two). As the funeral procession approaches, the drumbeat changes while remaining consistent.
Tan tan tan ta-ta tan
Tan ta-ta tan tan tan
Ta-ta tan tan ta-ta tan
Tan tan ta-ta tan tan
Until inside the abbey, a final TAN-TAN! marks the halt. I can't see anybody signalling from here at the back of the crowd, but it seems somebody has performed a very deft sleight-of-hand, because, precisely as the catafalque entered the abbey, the organ began a sombre tune in perfect time to the drumbeat.
Among the other vendors working the crowd is a ballad-seller with something very unusual, and very interesting to me: a copy of Purcell's Ode on the Birthday of Queen Mary composed only eight months earlier for the celebrations.

X:3 T:Strike the viol % title C:Henry Purcell % composer O:William F. Long transcription % origin. N:http://www.drdrbill.com/music.html M:3/4 % meter L:1/8 % length of shortest note Q:60 % tempo %%staves Ct { ( Hr1 Hr2 ) ( Hl ) } V:Ct name="Countertenor" sname="Ct" % voice 1 V:Hr1 name="Harpsichord" sname="Hp" clef=treble V:Hr2 clef=treble V:Hl clef=bass K:C % key %1======================2============================3==================4============================= [V:Ct] Z | Z |: e>d c2 dB | c2 A2 z2 | w:Strike__ the_ vi-ol, [V:Hr1] [ECA,]4 [EDB,]2 | [ECA,]2 z [FCA,] [EB,^G,]2 |: [ECA,]4 [EDB,]2 | [ECA,]2 z [FCA,] [EB,^G,]2 | [V:Hl] A3 a ^ge | a2 z d eE |: A2 z a ^ge | a2 z d eE | % %5======================6============================7==================8============================ [V:Ct] e>d c2 dB | c2 A2 z2 | c2 z2 B/c/d | B2 z2 cG | w:strike__ the_ vi-ol, touch, touch,__ touch, touch_ [V:Hr1] [ECA,]4 [EDB,]2 | [ECA,]2 z [FCA,] [EB,^G,]2 | [ECA,]4 [FB,A,]2 |[FB,G,]2 z [DB,G,] [ECG,]2 | [V:Hl] A3 a ^ge | a2 z d eE | A3 a fd | g2 z g ec | % %9===============================10==================11================12============================ [V:Ct][L:1/16] ABc2 BA3G3 ^F |[L:1/8] E4 z2 | A^GAc B2 | c4 z2 | w:touch,__ touch__ the Lute; wake___ the Harp, [V:Hr1] [FCA,]2 z [FCA,] [DB,G,]2 | [ECG,]4 [EB,^G,]2 | [ECA,]4 [EDB,]2 | [ECA,]2 z [FCA,] [EB,^G]2 | [V:Hl] f2 z d gG | c2 z d eE | A2 z a ^ge | a2 z d eE | % %13====================14==========================15========================16============ [V:Ct] A^GAc B2 | c4 z2 | cBce d2 | e4 dc | w:wake___ the Harp; wake___ the Harp, in- [V:Hr1] [ECA,]4 [EDB,]2 | [ECA,]2 z [FCA,] [EB,^G]2 | [ECA,]2 z [ECG,] [DG,]2 | [ECG,]6 | [V:Hl] A2 z a ^ge | a2 z d eE | A2 z c BG | c2 z d ec | % %17=======================18========================19========================20================== [V:Ct][L:1/16] B3cABcdc3 B |[L:1/8] c4 z2 | cBcd e2 | e4 dc | w:spire______ the Flute; wake___ the Harp, in- [V:Hr1] [FB,A,]4 [FB,G,]2 | [ECG,]3 [FCA,] [DB,G,]2 | [ECG,]2 z [ECG,] [DG,]2 | [ECG,]4 [GCG,]2 | [V:Hl] f3 d gG | c3 d GG, | C2 z c BG | c3 d ec | % %21========================22==================23========================24============================= [V:Ct][L:1/16] B2c2Bcd2c3 B |[L:1/8] c4 z2 :| c4 z2 |: z2 G2 G2 | w:spire_____ the flute; flute; Sing, your [V:Hr1] [FB,A,]4 [FB,G,]2 | [ECG,]4 [EC^G,]2 :| [ECG,]2 z [FCA,] [DBG]2 |: [ECG,]2 z [FCA,] [DB,G,]2 | [V:Hl] f3 D gG | c2 z d cB :| c2 z F GG, |: c2 z F GG, | % %25============================26==========================27===============28=========================== [V:Ct] G4 G2 | ABAB c2 | B4 z2 | z2 d2 d2 | w:Pa-tro-ne----ss's praise, Sing your [V:Hr1] [ECG,]2 z [ECG,] [DG,]2 | [ECG,]2 z [ECA,] [^FCA,]2 | [GDB,]4 [ADC]2 | [GDB,]2 z [GEC] [^FDA,]2 | [V:Hl] C2 z c BG | c2 z A dD | G2 z g ^fd | g2 z c dD | % %29===================30==========================31================32===============33================== [V:Ct] d3e d2 | dedf e2 | f4 d2 | z2 B2 e2 | z2 A2 cB | w:Pa--tro-ness's____ praise, Sing, sing, sing, sing in_ [V:Hr1] [GDB,]4 [ADC]2 | [GDB,]2 z [FDA,] [E^CA,]2 | [FDA,]4 [ADA,]2 | [GDB,]4 [GEC]2 | [FCA,]4 [FDG,]2 | [V:Hl] G2 z g ^fd | g2 z d aA | d2 z e fd | g2 z g ec | f2 z f dB | % %34=======================35=========================36================37======================= [V:Ct] ^GE/^F/GFGF/E/ | AA/B/cBc/B/A | dB/c/dcd/c/B | cc/d/ede/d/c | w:cheer---------- [V:Hr1] [EB,^G,]4 [^GEB,]2 | [AEA,]2 z [^GEB,] [AEC]2 | [GDB,]4 [GFB,]2 | [GEC]2 z [GFD] [EC]2 | [V:Hr2] Z36 | z4 GA | [V:Hl] e2 z B eB | c2 z e ae | f2 z d gd | e2 z d cA | % %38=============39==========================40==========================41==== [V:Ct] fedc B A | AB A/B/c BA |[1 A4 z2 :|[2 A6 |] w:----full and har--mo---nious_ lays. [V:Hr1] [^GFB,]6 | [AEC]2 z [FCA,] [EB,^G,]2 |[1 [ECA,]2 z [ECG,] [DG,] :|[2 [ECA,]6 |] [V:Hl] e2 z B cA | e2 z d eE |[1 A2 z c BG :|[2 A6 |] To convert the code above to sheet music, or listen to the tunes, copy the code for a single song, then paste it here and [submit]. To listen to the Funeral March for Queen Mary II, click the gramophone.

I don't know about you, but after the funeral, I feel like something a bit more cheerful. What say we totter along to Drury Lane and see if Mr.Dryden has something new to entertain us?