“Vous gentilles” from Pergolesi’s La Servante Maitresse by Toussaint Bordet ANNALISA PAPPANO, Pardessus de viole MELISSA HARVEY, Soprano MUSIC PRODUCER Peter Nothnagle DIRECTOR/DP Melissa Godoy LIGHTING GAFFER Mark Stucker MAKEUP Laurie McSwain Robinson CAMERA OPERATOR/JIB Christian Appleby CAMERA OPERATOR Kimisha Renee Davis KEY GRIP Lou Suer SOUND SUPPORT Rolf Wiengard COLORIST Christopher Joecken LOCATION First Unitarian Church of Cincinnati THANK YOU FOR SUPPORT FROM Ohio Arts Council Summerfair Cincinnati Text: You sweet ones Young girls, With old men, who stretch out your nets Who search for handsome or ugly husbands Hear this, hear this, Remember my secrets, You are going to see how I play By turns, with dexterity I threaten, I caress. Sometimes I fight back, But I surrender.

"Piangete, occhi miei lassi" by Sigismondo d'India MELISSA HARVEY, Soprano ANNALISA PAPPANO, Lirone, Artistic Director ELIZABETH MOTTER, Baroque Harp MUSIC PRODUCER Peter Nothnagle DIRECTOR/DP Melissa Godoy LIGHTING GAFFER Mark Stucker MAKEUP Laurie McSwain Robinson CAMERA OPERATOR/JIB Christian Appleby CAMERA OPERATOR Kimisha Renee Davis KEY GRIP Lou Suer SOUND SUPPORT Rolf Wiengard COLORIST Christopher Joecken LOCATION First Unitarian Church of Cincinnati THANK YOU FOR SUPPORT FROM Ohio Arts Council Summerfair Cincinnati Text: Cry, my tired eyes, and move the heart of the one who hardens herself to my pain. And if the water of tears cannot move her somewhat, of my soul, which languishes, eyes spill forth, weep with blood.

From a live concert performance of the Catacoustic Consort, November 2005 Rogero, Matthew Holmes MSS, (c.1588-1597) Annalisa Pappano, Catacoustic director, treble viol Joanna Blendulf, Bas Viol Daniel Carberg, Tenor Mark Cudek, Cittern Ronn McFarlane, Lute Mindy Rosenfeld, Flute David Walker, Bandora Special thanks to Mark Cudek and the Baltimore Consort for the musical arrangement. Text: When as the Duke of Normandy, with glistering spear and shield Had entered into fair England, and foil’d his foes in field On Christmas day in solemn sort then was he crowned here By Albert archbishop of York, with many a noble peer Which being done, he changed quite the customs of this land And punisht such as daily sought his statutes to withstand And many cities he subdued fair London with the rest But Kent did still withstand his force and did his laws detest. To Dover then he took his way, the castle down to fling Which Arviragus builded there the noble British king. Which when the brave archbishop bold of Canterbury knew The abbot of Saint Augustines eke, with all their gallant crew They set themselves in armour bright these mischiefs to prevent With all the yeomen brave and bold that were in fruitful Kent. At Canterbury did they meet upon a certain day With sword and spear, with bill and bow and stopt the conqueror’s way. Let us not live like bond-men poor to Frenchmen in their pride But keep our ancient liberty what chance so e’er betide. And rather die in bloody field in manlike courage prest Than to endure the servile yoke which we so much detest. Thus did the Kentish commons cry unto their leaders still And so marched forth in warlike sort and stand at Swanscomb hill Where in the woods they hid themselves under the shady green Thereby to get them vantage good of all their foes unseen And for the conqueror’s coming there they privily laid wait And thereby suddenly appal’d his lofty high conceit For when they spied his approach in place as they did stand Then marched they to hem him in each one a bough in hand So that unto the conqueror’s sight amazed as he stood They seem’d to be a walking grove or else a moving wood. The shape of men he could not see, the boughs did hide them so And now his heart for fear did quake so see a forest go Before, behind, and on each side, as he did cast his eye He spied those woods with sober pace approach to him full nigh But when the Kentish men had thus enclos’d the conqueror round Most suddenly they drew their swords and threw the boughs to ground Their banners they display’d in sight their trumpets sound a charge Their rattling drums strike up alarms, their troops stretch out at large. The conqueror and all his train were hearat sore aghast And most in peril when they thought all peril had been past. Unto the Kentish men he sent the cause to understand For what intent and for what cause they took this war in hand To whom they made this short reply: for liberty we fight And so enjoy king Edward’s laws the which we hold our right. Then said the dreadful conqueror, you shall have what you will, Your ancient customs and your laws so that you will be still And each thing else that you will crave with reason at my hand So you will but acknowledge me chief king of fair England The Kentish men agreed thereon and laid their arms aside And by this means King Edward’s laws in Kent do still abide And in no place in England else these customs do remain Which they by manly policy did of Duke William gain.

Robert Tailour: By Babel Streams From Sacred Hymns: Consisting of Fifti Select Psalms of DAVID, and Others, Paraphrastically Turned into English Verse, Edition by Annalisa Pappano From a February 2011 live concert by the Catacoustic Consort at St. Thomas Church, Terrace Park, Ohio Annalisa Pappano director, lyra viol Youngmi Aria Kim, soprano Julie Jeffrey, Micah Fusselmann, James Lambert - viola da gamba By Babel streams, exil'd from contri dear, As doun we sate, a sad dismaied crue; Ah Sions wrongs to pensive mynds appear; Sion's whom now our eys no more should vieu. Wee wept: and trees that saw our tears abound, Hang'd up those harps which wont our ioys resound.

1. John Dowland's Lachrimae dramatic reading From a live concert of the Catacoustic Consort, Annalisa Pappano, Artistic Director The entire musical performance of John Dowland's Lachrimae is online, interspersed with dramatic readings by Jeremy Dubin from Cincinnati Shakespeare Company (17 tracks) Credit to Trish Thomas Henley for the text Text: Lachrimæ Antiquae (Old Tears) Book III Elegy III: She’s Faithless Ovid (1 century BCE)   Gods exist, go on, believe it – she broke the promise she made and is still as lovely as she was before! The long hair she had when she wasn’t a liar, is just as long after she’s offended the gods. Her radiance was whiteness tinged with a rosy blush before – the blush shines on amongst the snow. Her feet were slender – her feet are delicately formed. She was tall and graceful – tall and graceful she remains. Bright-eyes she had – they are radiant as stars, with which she so often deceived me with her lies. No doubt the eternal gods allow girls to swear falsely too, and beauty has divinity. I remember she swore by her eyes the other day, and by mine: look, it is mine that felt the pain! Tell me, gods, if she cheated you with impunity why did I deserve punishment instead? But didn’t innocent virgin Andromeda die by your order, for her mother’s crime of boastful beauty? Not enough for you, that I find you worthless witnesses, but she laughs at me, and you, playful gods, unpunished? By my punishment do I redeem her lying: shall I be victim, deceived by the deceiver? Either a god’s a thing of no account, an idle fear, stirring the crowd through their foolish credulity: or if there’s a true god, he loves tender girls, and allows them all excessive liberties. For us Mars straps on his deadly sword: for us the hand of Pallas lifts the unfailing spear. For us the pliant bow of Apollo’s bent: for us Jove’s lofty right hand holds the fire. The gods, offended, are scared to offend these beauties and, besides, they fear those who don’t fear them. And who should bother to burn incense on their altars? We men it’s true need to show more spirit! Jupiter blasts his own groves and hills with fire, and neglects to hurl his bolts at perjured girls. So many deserved it – but poor Semele was burned! Her punishment was of her own making: but if she’d withdrawn from her lover’s coming, no father would have played mother to Bacchus. Why complain and abuse all of heaven? The gods too have eyes: the gods have hearts! If I were a god, I’d let girls with lying lips deceive my divinity without punishment: I’d swear, myself, the girls were swearing truly and I’d not be a god who spoke sourly. Still, girl, you should use their gift in moderation – or at least spare these eyes of mine!

Cara mia cetra by Sigismondo d'India (c.1582-1629) Live concert performance of Catacoustic Consort from 2012 at St. Thomas Episcopal Church, Terrace Park, Ohio Annalisa Pappano director, lirone Sherezade Panthaki, soprano Michael Leopold, theorbo Chiara Granata, baroque harp Cara Mia Cetra: My dear lyre, let us go and rejoin her Who is my sole desire and your sole theme, That there, from your strings, from my heart May escape your notes, and my torments, Since merciful harmony May perhaps restore peace to my soul.