Richard Pennycuick replied:

>>>(BTW: pron. Pur-SELL or PUR-sul?)
>>
>>I've only heard it with the accent on the first syllable.
>
>For years I pronounced it with the last syllable stressed.  Persil is
>a local brand of laundry detergent and it seemed somehow disrespectful,
>albeit tenuously, to equate dirty socks with Come ye sons of art.

Well, Richard needn't worry about such equatings (sic), not when such as
THIS appeared on the Early Music List ca. 1995.  For proper attribution:

edited by
Andrew J Clarke
Minogue School of Musicology
University of Junee (Australia)

[note the old ftyle(style) of Englifhe fcript = Englishe script]

The Judgement of Purvis: a Mafque Not for Dauncyng
by Henry Pursell
as Performed before my Lord Ilfforde by the Chigwelle Confort with Mr Chas.
Minguss on the Bafs Viol, to great Acclayme.  Printed for Messrs Brewer,
Stewer, Gurney, Davis, Whidden and Hawke and to be Welle and Trewly Hadde
of them at St Powles Church-yard.

Cast:
Mrs Emma Purvis, a Vibratoe-feller, of Convent-Garden
Mr Henry Purcell, a Musickologift, of Wapping Great
Mr Henry Pucelle, an Omo Sexual, of Soe-Hoe
Mr Frank Pourcelle, a writer of foap-operies, of Grubbe-St
Signor Enrico Purcello, Grand Duke of Parmigiana, disguifed as a Poore
Chitarrony Player

Scene 1. Convent Garden Market

Mrs Purvis (fings):

All I want is a Lute fomewhere,
Not fome Viol joint in Leicefter-Square:
Five mins. by fedan-chaire,
Ow woud it not bee Summerly?

Lots of Chocolate for mee to Drink,
Lots of Chandos contracts I think,
To keepe mee out of Clinke
Ow woud it not bee Summerly?

Ow soe loverly when the Royalties begin to flowe,
I woud not begrudge One Mo-
tette of Dowland or Byrd or Blowe,

Someone's Bowe refting on my knee,
As legatoe as it can bee,
Who'll fixe up my top C,
Ow would it not be ...

[Enter Mr Henry Purcell in a Furie]

Ceafe, ceafe, ceafe, ye filly warb'ling quires!
Youre endlefs wandring notes
Would ftretche from Drurie Lane to John o' Groats:
Yowre vaguaries of pitch,
Woud lofe the Dunnemowe flitche:
I'll paye more than one groat
To hear yow fing one Note
Like
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
aaa
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
aaa
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah ...

Mrs Purvis:

Sir: your conftant pitch I cannot take:
Pleafe fhutte the Hole in which yow put youre Cake.
[cadence]

[Exit Mr Pursel]

To bee continu'd.

Scene the fecond.  Another parte of Convent-Garden.

[Enter Mrs Emma Purvifse, en defhabille]
Recit.:
Fie, Fie! Another day with no fignificant Other,
Another reftless night with my ferpent-playing mother <:-(
I've towted my vibratoes seventeen longe Yeeres:
But la! another Gentilman appeares ---

[Enter Mr Henry Pucelle, playing upon the cittern]
[fings]

I'm juft an Owld Mufick Quean with an Owld Muficke mind,
Nothing equal-temper'd but the owld difcordant kynde,
I want an Owld-fafhion'd Houfe with a Goofe-fether Bedde
And an Owld Londonderrie Ayre;

I want a Fine gilded Coach, not fome owld jaded Hacke,
Bigge enough to putt a Violone in the Backe,
I want an Owld-fafhion'd Houfe with a Goofe-fether Bedde,
And an Owld Londonderrie Ayre;

I like Jofquin and DuFay,
All the Hittes of Yefterday,
Madrigalls and Browninges and La Voltas,
But the fpectacle I crave at my houfe-partie or Rave
Is a Grandftand Viewe of John Travolta's ...

I'm just an Owld Fafhion'd Girle, going Puddgie in fpottes,
Deep in correfpondence with reck.mufick.earlie.motss,
I want an Owld-fafhion'd Houfe with a Goofe-fether Bedde,
And an Owld Londonderrie Ayre.

Mrs Purvis: [afide] Lawks! Another cul-de-sagbutte!
[recit.]

Fond fir! In Soe-Hoe there are Boyes a-plentie:
As for mee I finde youre A
Is not the fulle Foure-Twentie --
[cadence]

[Exit Mr Puzzle, flounsing]

To bee continued ...

Scene 3.  An Efprefso Houfe in Tottinghame Court Roade.

[Enter Signor Enrico Purcello bearing a Theorba]

Aha!  Alone at last!  You fee before you but a Poore Wandring Minftrel:
but know ye that I am in verie Trewth the Grand Duke of Parmigianoe
incognito in thefe forrie ragges.  Forfooth, I flee my native land to
efcape an abominable mariage de convenance to Henrietta of Hainault:  aye,
the Central line, though the Line is Immaterial to Coin a Phrafe; fhe is
but a Ruttybaga and an ould whom I wille not wedde.  I seek a pure maid
tho' fhe be of Humble Birth, who will love mee for my owne felf and not for
a Palaife in Parma or free tickets to Glyndebourne.  Hark!  fomeone cometh
...

[Enter Miftrefs Purvis]]

Who will buy my fweete Vibratoes,
Five fhakes for a pennie?

[Sgr Purcello] Aha, fweete maid. I will play thee a ferenata that will
melte youre Harte tho' it be Adamantine. [Sets up mufick-ftand in Turquoife
compleat with EP monogramme]

[Ayre]

A fadde foule fat fighing
To a Chittaronie,
Sing deller, deller, deller:
One Hande in Midde-Aire and the Other bye his Knee:
Sing deller deller deller deller,
Sing deller deller deller deller,
Do Praye thow Des monde. *

Maides ope faft their Windowes
Whene'er that I Pafse,
Sing deller, deller, deller;
One C seaven Chorde would have fhatter'd the Glafse:
Sing deller deller deller deller,
Sing deller deller deller deller,
Do Praye thow Des monde.

Hoote on, thow proud Deller,
Deller, deare, not Diller; **
Hoote on, thow proud Diller
Do pray thow Des monde.

Men fay their Good Wives get
Lewde Thoughtes in their Heads,
Sing deller, deller, deller;
My Twangges doe reminde them
Of the Springes within their Beddes.
Sing deller deller deller deller
Sing deller deller deller deller
Do pray thow Desmond.

[Mrs Purvis] La, sir! Tho' thow art but a poore man, but I fee thow art a
Gentilman by thy bearing and thy merciful Lack of Wobbil.  Art thow a
Mufickologift?

[Sgr. Purcello] Noe.

[Mrs Purvis] Or a Latent Ladie?

[Sgr Purcello] Noe.

[Mrs Purvis] I fee by the EP on your ftand that thow art a fingle Man.

[Sgr Purcello] Noe more, thow comely Wench, for I fhall marrie thee. Come,
let
us putt up the Bannes, and I fhall take thee [reveales himfelf] to my Great
Palace in Italie where thow shalt bee my Dutchess ...

[Mrs Purvis]

[recit]

Fond fir, before my Harte I fhall unlock,
What fhall I do with all my unfold Stock?
Who, in the Land of Harde Cheefe and Tomatoes
Will buy twelve Grofs of fecond-hand Vibratoes?

[Sgr Purcello]

Oh, fend 'em to La Scala or the Devil,
They'll keepe 'em for that d---d Barber of Sevil.
[Cadence]
[Exeunt omnes]

* ' Do pray thow Desmond'.  A notorious crux.  Possibly an allusion to
'Champion' Jacques DuPree, the barrelhouse lutenist, killed in a tavern
brawl ca.  1669.  Desmond:  possibly an ironic reference, i.e.  "Champion
of the World".

** A reference to Phillip Diller of Leytonstone (1661-1695) a celebrated
dandy.

[Bill H.]