The history of Serenades is as ancient as that of Songs. In the middle of the 15th century, Sebastian Brant, a lawyer, wrote in Dutch his 'Stultifera Navis,' or 'Ship of Fools,' a severe satire on things in general, and popular amusements in particular. The book was afterwards translated into Latin, and thence into English. Here are some of the verses that treat of Serenades in the year 1450.

Another verse explains that not only the foolish young men of low birth were given to this practice, but also—

Brant had no great opinion of the music provided either. He describes their singing before their lady's window—

Finally—a Parthian shot—

Thus, one hundred years before Shakespeare was born, Serenades of voices and instruments were common, and in general practice by all classes of young men, and not only laymen, but also yonge fooles of the spiritualtie.

The instruments mentioned are such as were still in use in Shakespeare's time—viz., harp, lute, 'foolish' pipe, bagpipe, and 'foolish' flute, besides the several varieties of song, which evidently included both solo and part singing—'feigned' ballads for a single voice [ballads, that is, in the more refined 'keys' of 'Musica Ficta'], and 'Countering,' which implies that two voices at least took part.

The following passage is an example of this nocturnal serenading by a company of gentlemen.

Two Gent. III, ii, 83.

Proteus advises Thurio to get a 'consort' (probably of viols) to play a 'dump' under Silvia's window. He goes to arrange for some of his friends to attend for this purpose. The serenade takes place in the next Act, where, in the 2nd scene, line 17, it is called 'evening music,' but does not include the 'dump,' for Thurio has 'a sonnet that will serve the turn,' so they sing 'Who is Silvia.'

Here is the passage, which is full of quibbles on musical terms.

Two Gent. IV, ii, 16.

The next passage is of a serenade in the early morning. Cloten arranges for the musicians (who seem in this case to be professional players) to give two pieces, one instrumental, followed by a song.

Cymbeline II, iii, 11. Cloten serenades Imogen.

In l. 14, 'fingering' and 'tongue' correspond to 'playing' and 'singing.' The first is to be a 'Fancy' for viols, 'a very excellent good-conceited thing'; the second is the 'wonderful sweet air,' Hark! hark! the lark.

'Good-conceited' means having many 'conceits.' These 'fancies' were always contrapuntal, and the various artificial contrivances, answering of points, imitations, and what not, are referred to under this title. The mention of 'horse-hairs and calves'-guts' makes it clear that the instruments in this 'morning music' were Viols.

Another 'evening music' is provided by Pericles, Prince of Tyre.

Pericles II, v, 24. Pericles, a musician [his education had been 'in arts and arms,' see II, iii, 82].

The next quotation is also of 'morning music,' but with a different object—not a lady, but a soldier, and of a somewhat rough and ready kind, to judge by the Clown's critical remarks.

The passage seems to indicate the use of Bagpipes; for 'they speak in the nose' (see Merchant IV, i, 48), and are called wind-instruments, and are mentioned under the name 'pipes' in the last two lines. Moreover, there is the remark of the Clown, represented here by stars, which is terribly appropriate to that instrument.

Othello III, i. Cassio brings musicians to salute Othello.

Pandarus appears to be a capital musician. In the following we find him questioning a musical servant of Priam's palace about some instrumental music which is going on within, 'at the request of Paris.' The servant amuses himself by giving 'cross' answers to Pandarus' crooked questions, and in the process gets out two or three musical jokes—e.g., 'partly know,' 'music in parts,' 'wholly, sir.' Further on, Paris also plays on the term 'broken' music.

Troilus and Cressida III, i, 19.

The custom of having instrumental music in taverns has already been referred to in the Introduction, near the end, where we learn that the charge for playing before the guests was twenty shillings for two hours in Shakespeare's time; also that a man could hardly go into a public house of entertainment without being followed by two or three itinerant musicians, who would either sing or play for his pleasure, while he was at dinner. Accordingly, we find Sir John Falstaff enjoying such a performance at the Boar's Head, Eastcheap.

H. 4. B. II, iv, 10.

The term 'Sneak's noise' is most interesting. 'Noise' means a company of musicians, and Mr Sneak was the gentleman who gave his name to the particular band of instrumentalists who favoured the Boar's Head.

Milton uses the word, in this sense, in the poem 'At a Solemn Music,' where the 'saintly shout' of the seraphic choir, with 'loud uplifted angel-trumpets,' 'immortal harps of golden wires,' and the singing of psalms and hymns, are collectively called 'that melodious noise.' Also in his Hymn on the Nativity, verse ix., he has 'stringÈd noise'—i.e., band of stringed instruments. The Prayer-book Version (Great Bible) of the Psalms, which was made in 1540, has the word in Ps. lxxxi. 1, 'Make a cheerful noise unto the God of Jacob,' and this in the next verses is said to consist of various musical instruments—e.g., the tabret, harp, lute, and trumpet. Also in the Authorised Version of 1611, Ps. xxxiii. 3, 'play skilfully with a loud noise,' which was the instrumental accompaniment to a 'new song.' The same word is used in several other places, with the meaning of 'music'—e.g., Pss. lxvi. 1; xcv. 1, 2; xcviii. 4, 6; c. 1; where 'to make a joyful noise' is represented in the original by the same verb, except in one of the two cases in Ps. xcviii. 4.

The word was still in use in 1680, when Dr Plot was present at the annual Bull-running held by the Minstrels of Tutbury, one of the features of which festivity was a banquet, with 'a Noise of musicians playing to them.'

The reputed cure of the Tarantula's bite by music has already been mentioned. The next three examples are of somewhat similar cases.

In the first, Henry IV. in sickness asks for music; the second is an account of Cerimon's attempt to rouse the half-drowned Thaisa with at least partial assistance from music; while the third represents Prospero using a solemn air to remove the magic spell which he had cast on Alonso and his other enemies.

H. 4. B. IV, iv, 133. K. Hen. on his sick-bed.

Pericles III, ii, 87. Cerimon's house at Ephesus. Thaisa, cast up by the sea, is brought to life by his directions.

Tempest V, i, 51. Prospero employs music to disenchant Alonso, Antonio, etc.

Next we have two examples of 'Music at Home.' In the case of the Duke in Twelfth Night, it is 'concerted' music, and the players seem to be performing such a quaint old piece as 'The Lord of Salisbury his Pavin,' by Gibbons, in Parthenia, the last 'strain' of which has just such a 'dying fall' as is mentioned in line 4. [See the remarks on the passage from Lucrece in Section I. on the technical meaning of 'strain.']

Twelfth Night I, i.

Brutus' musical establishment is on a smaller scale than the Duke's. He keeps a 'good boy,' who can sing to his own accompaniment on the lute, and is such a willing servant as to perform when almost overcome by sleep.

Julius CÆsar IV, iii, 256. Brutus and his servant Lucius.

In Henry VIII. III, i is a case of the same kind.

[Song. 'Orpheus.']

The next passage brings us to another class of music—viz., dirges, funeral songs, or 'good-nights.' [See H. 4. B. III, ii, 322]. In Cymbeline IV, ii, 184, Cadwal (Arviragus) sounds an 'ingenious instrument' to signify Imogen's death. Polydore (Guiderius) says they had not used it since their mother died. The song, or more properly, duet, which they sing directly after, in memory of Imogen, may be taken in this connection. Unfortunately there seems to be no musical setting of 'Fear no more the heat o' the sun' any older than 1740.

In the following quotation 'dirges' are mentioned by name.

Rom. IV, iv, 21.

In close connection with these funeral songs is the passage in Hen. VIII. IV, ii, 77, where Queen Katherine, sick, requests her gentleman-usher to get the musicians to play a favourite piece of this class—

It would be of great interest if it were possible to identify Queen Katherine's 'Knell.'

There is an old song, given in Chappell's Popular Music, 'O Death, rock me to sleep,' which might be the very one, for both music and words are singularly appropriate. The Refrain is as follows:—

The song is most plaintive, and has a very striking feature in the shape of a real independent accompaniment, which keeps up a continual figure of three descending notes, like the bells of a village church. Hawkins gives the poem, with certain variations, and two extra verses at the beginning, the first commencing—

and he says the verses are thought to have been written by Anne Boleyn. Hawkins also gives music (in four parts) to the first two verses, by Robt. Johnson, a contemporary of Shakespeare's. The music of the song in Chappell is much older than that; indeed, it is very possibly of Hen. VIII.'s time.