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Music & lyrics by John Dowland, vocals & arrangement by Farya Faraji, starring my man Christophe Chapleau. This is another song by renowned 16th century English composer John Dowland, a composer who excelled in the polyphonic forms of Western European music popularised in his day and age. The arrangement consists of violas, a flute and a lute, playing the entire polyphonic arrangement below the vocals, who support the main monophonic vocal line. You will find other versions of this song employing the full polyphony with the vocals, but the practice of using the polyphonic parts as instrumental supports for the main melody was still common historically, and this arrangement will provide an alternative insight into the many ways this song would have been performed in its day and age. I didn’t have time to learn this era’s pronunciation so I chose to go with the conventional pronunciation used by English singers of the Early Music repertoire—a sort of heightened version of Received Pronunciation, with more exaggerated vowel qualities, like more rounded vowel sounds, and R’s sometimes pronounced as alveolar taps or trills; a similar pronunciation is used in English opera also. Lyrics: White as lilies was her face When she smilèd she beguilèd Quitting faith with foul disgrace Virtue, service thus neglected Heart with sorrow hath infected When I swore my heart my own She disdainèd, I complainèd; Yet she left me overthrown Careless of my bitter grieving Ruthless bent to no relieving Vows and oaths and faith assured Constant ever, changing never Yet she could not bе procured To believе my pains exceeding From her scant neglect proceeding Oh that Love should have the art By surmises, and disguises To destroy a faithful heart Or that wanton-looking women Should reward their friends as foemen All in vain is Ladies’ love Quickly choosèd, shortly loosèd For their pride is to remove Out alas their looks first won us And their pride hath straight undone us To thyself the sweetest fair Thou hath wounded, and confounded Changeless faith with soul despair And my service hath envied And my succours hath denied By thine error thou hast lost Hart unfainèd, truth unstainèd And the swain that lovèd most More assured in love than many More despised in love than any For my heart, though set at naught Since you will it, spoil and kill it! I will never change my thought But grieve that beauty e'er was born Thus to answer love with scorn
