Come when I call, or tarrie till I come (John Dowland): Difference between revisions

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{{Genre|Secular|Partsongs}}
{{Genre|Secular|Partsongs}}
{{Language|English}}
{{Language|English}}
'''Instruments:''' {{LuteAcc}} (2 lutes), 3 viols (2 tenor, bass)<br>
{{Instruments|Lute}} (2 lutes), 3 viols (2 tenor, bass)<br>
'''Published:''' ''The Third and Last Booke of Songs or Aires'' (1603), no.21
'''Published:''' ''The Third and Last Booke of Songs or Aires'' (1603), no.21



Revision as of 03:37, 25 April 2014

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  • CPDL #17406:  Icon_pdf.gif Icon_snd.gif
Editor: David Fraser (submitted 2008-06-30).   Score information: A4, 3 pages, 107 kB   Copyright: CPDL
Edition notes: AATTB, 3 viols (2T, B), 2 lutes. I have transcribed Dowland's "base lute" exactly as in the original print, tuned a 4th below the "meane" (tenor G) lute, while being unsure whether such tunings still exist. Any advice from lutenists would be helpful and welcome. Viol parts in C clefs can be made available on request.
Editor: Brian Russell (submitted 2008-05-07).   Score information: A4, 3 pages, 25 kB   Copyright: CPDL
Edition notes: Nwc.png
Error.gif Possible error(s) identified. Error summary: Numerous serious errors See the discussion page for full description.

General Information

Title: Come when I call, or tarrie till I come
Composer: John Dowland

Number of voices: 5vv   Voicing: AATTB

Genre: SecularPartsong

Language: English
Instruments: Lute

(2 lutes), 3 viols (2 tenor, bass)

Published: The Third and Last Booke of Songs or Aires (1603), no.21

Description:

External websites:

Original text and translations

English.png English text

Come when I cal, or tarrie til I come,
if you bee deafe I must prove dumb.

Stay a while my heavn’ly joy, I come with wings of love,
when envious eyes time shal remove.

If thy desire ever knew the griefe of delay,
no danger could stand in thy way.

O die not, ad this sorrow to my griefe
that languish here, wanting relief.

What need wee languish? can love quickly flie:
feare ever hurts more than jealousie.

Then securely envie scorning,
let us end with joy our mourning,
jealousie still defie,
and love till we die.