These four gripping Baroque cantatas depict the anguish, fury and suicide of Lucrezia after her rape by Sextus Tarquinius (son of the king). Her preference for death over dishonour was cited by Livy as the catalyst for Rome’s transition from a despotic monarchy to a republic (Lucrezia’s husband Collatinus served as one of its first pair of consuls). Jérôme Correas employs different exceptional singers for each cantata. There is also well-planned contrast in the use of resources: most cantatas require nothing more than continuo accompaniment, whereas violins, viola and double bass are added to the mix in a melancholy sinfonia from Pasquini’s oratorio Il martirio dei Santi Vito, Modesto e Crescenzia (1687) and Marcello’s Concerto a cinque in F minor, Op 1 No 7 (Venice, 1708).

Montéclair’s Morte de Lucretia (published 1728) is allocated to Sandrine Piau. The vivid cantata begins with a scurrying presto for a pair of violins before they are interrupted by Lucrezia’s outraged complaint at her stolen honour. Piau is at her piercingly emotive best in Montéclair’s inventively fluid recitatives. The character’s oscillation between determination and sorrow (‘Coraggio, miei Spirti’) and the slow moment of her death (‘Assistetemi, oh Dei!’) constitute a masterclass in balancing dramatic power and musical finesse.

Alessandro Scarlatti presumably composed Lasciato havea l’adultero superbo (1688) in Rome to oblige its poet Cardinal Benedetto Pamphili, whose text was set to music again a few decades later by the Venetian dilettante Benedetto Marcello. Scarlatti’s through-composed cantata eschews da capo forms and requires a vocal range of almost two octaves; agitated extremities of furious rapidity, resolve and pathos are realised boldly by soprano Amel Brahim-Djelloul, supported every step of the way by the various colours achieved by the continuo trio of theorbo, cello and keyboard (Correas switching between harpsichord and organ). The final moment, as Lucrezia embraces death and falls to the ground, is an entirely unaccompanied and whispered ‘Addio’. Marcello’s setting of Pamphili’s poem makes quick-moving fiendish demands – wide leaps and sudden switches of tempo and affect. Lucile Richardot’s flexibility of dynamism and immersion in the character’s predicament, vulnerability and courage are enthralling.

Handel’s early Italian-period O Numi eterni (aka La Lucrezia) is performed spiritedly by Karine Deshayes. When an outburst gives way to melancholic lyricism (the line ‘alla salma infedel porga la pena’), Correas adds violins to the remainder of the cantata despite Handel never putting them there; those who hanker after Raymond Leppard’s orchestral ‘realisation’ for Janet Baker in the 1960s might approve of the method more than I do. Aparté neglects to include English translations of the sung texts and there are factual errors in the booklet notes. Otherwise, this inquisitive survey is fascinating and rewarding in equal measure.