The theater of music, or, A choice collection of the newest and best songs sung at the court and public theaters the words composed by the most ingenious wits of the age, and set to music by the greatest masters in that science : with a theorbo-bass to each song for the theorbo or bass-viol : also symphonies and retornels in 3 parts to several of them for the violins and flutes.

About this Item

Title
The theater of music, or, A choice collection of the newest and best songs sung at the court and public theaters the words composed by the most ingenious wits of the age, and set to music by the greatest masters in that science : with a theorbo-bass to each song for the theorbo or bass-viol : also symphonies and retornels in 3 parts to several of them for the violins and flutes.
Publication
London :: Printed by J. Playford for Henry Playford and R.C. ...,
1685-1687.
Rights/Permissions

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Subject terms
Songs, English -- England.
Songs with continuo.
Link to this Item
http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A54969.0001.001
Cite this Item
"The theater of music, or, A choice collection of the newest and best songs sung at the court and public theaters the words composed by the most ingenious wits of the age, and set to music by the greatest masters in that science : with a theorbo-bass to each song for the theorbo or bass-viol : also symphonies and retornels in 3 parts to several of them for the violins and flutes." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A54969.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 15, 2024.

Pages

Page 22

〈♫〉〈♫〉 TOO high, oh Cu—pid! cries the Swain, you've forc'd my mounting Fire, to reach that Sphear I hope in vain, towards which it does aspire: In Har—mo—ny, since ev'—ry one o'th' Gods delight does take, oh why, oh why should Love a—lone such dis—pro- portion make! Oh why, oh why should Love a—lone such dis—pro—por—tion make. Where e're the beauteous Nymph does come, my Feet all joy—ful still; as constant as her Shadow roam, against her Master's will: My Eyes from ga—zing ne're refrain, up—on the charming

Page 23

Fair; Cha-me-lion-like, they feed my Pain with no-thing else but Air; Cha-me-lion-like, they feed my Pain with nothing else but Air.

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