Pergolesi’s two frothy intermezzi originated as light relief between the acts of opere serie (18th-century Neapolitan audiences demanded, and got, their money’s worth), then developed a life of their own. Written for inclusion in the heroic Il prigionier superbo, La serva padrona later became the prime exemplar of the new Italian comic style in the celebrated – and much-satirised – Parisian Querrelle des Bouffons. While La serva still has a toehold in the repertoire, the once popular Livietta e Tracollo rarely gets an outing. Another commedia dell’arte-derived two-hander, it centres on the ploys of the wily peasant girl Livietta to outwit the thieving, good-for-nothing Tracollo. The balance of power shifts amid multiple disguises, and they finally agree to marry. Don’t question the maths – this is operatic comedy at its silliest.

While its humour is cruder, the musical invention of Livietta is essentially in the same vein as that of its more famous companion: catchy short-breathed melodies, syllabic patter-songs and thin, two-part string textures, with violas doubling the bass. Although these are works that ideally need to be seen as well as heard, both are modestly entertaining, especially in performances as lively and polished as we have here.

Animated by the thrumming and twanging of archlute, theorbo and Baroque guitar, plus a mandolino for added Neapolitan colour, the one-to-a-part Boston band play with terrific gusto. All the singers have fine, youthful-sounding voices and enter gleefully into the spirit of their roles. As the upwardly mobile maid Serpina (the servant-as-mistress of the title), Amanda Forsythe combines lyric sweetness with comic panache. Her taunting ‘Stizzoso, mio stizzoso’ immediately announces that this is not a woman to be messed with. Forsythe’s witty command of timing and inflection is shared by Christian Immler’s spluttering, exasperated Uberto. Both are vivid with their words, as are Carlotta Colombo and Jesse Blumberg (his baritone infused with a dash of basso brawn) in the slapstick of Livietta.

Complementing the intermezzi we have two Pergolesi overtures (including that for Il prigionier superbo), and a jolly ‘laughing’ trio by Pergolesi’s older Neapolitan contemporary Leonardo Leo. A 1990s recording from Sigiswald Kuijken (Accent, 11/97) fits both Pergolesi intermezzi on to a single disc. The playing and singing are spirited enough but hardly a match for this new Boston recording in demotic exuberance and sheer colour.