Shakespeare a cappella

Winter 2016

Program Notes

Summer Sonnet Kevin Olson
It was a lover and his lass John Rutter
Shall I compare thee? Robert Applebaum
My love is as a fever Hakan Parkman
Take, o take those lips away Matthew Harris
From Four Shakespeare Songs Jaakko Mäntyjärvi
Lullaby  
Full fathom five  
Double, double  
INTERMISSION
Orpheus, with his lute George MacFarren
It was a lover and his lass Matthew Harris
Spring Robert Applebaum
And Will A' Not Come Again? Matthew Harris
Come away, Death (from Four Shakespeare Songs) Jaakko Mäntyjärvi
Over Hill, Over Dale Ralph Vaughan Williams
Blow, blow, thou winter wind Martha Sullivan
The Cloud Capp'd Towers Ralph Vaughan Williams
encore: Who is Silvia? Matthew Harris

 

 

FROM THE ARTISTIC DIRECTOR

When we go to experience Shakespeare, we trust fundamentally that something will stir in us emotionally. How? Why? In our case, nine singers and two actors walk onto a stage, with voices and hearts and music and words to deliver—that alone does not guarantee art. The material presented must be art, and the execution must transmit what art transmits. What, then, does art do?

In his 1898 treatise What is Art? the Russian novelist and critic Leo Tolstoy described art as follows:

To evoke in oneself a feeling one has once experienced, and having evoked it in oneself, then, by means of movements, lines, colors, sounds, or forms expressed in words, so to transmit that feeling that others may experience the same feeling—this is the activity of art.

The way that Shakespeare does this to us is, as he wrote, “rich and strange.” Shakespeare transmits emotion to us by using language that Americans would never use in daily speech, describing events far removed from our daily experience. And yet we flock to him. We come back over and over, like thirsty elephants to the river, to be nourished and sustained by the working (and re-working) in us of the feelings transmitted—and, yes, it is art.

Chicago a cappella’s first all-Shakespeare program took place in 2003, with composers around the world responding to our “call for scores” by showering us with new music on Shakespeare texts. The project was picked up soon thereafter as a recording by Jim Ginsburg for Cedille Records, our first recording on that superb label. Much of that original material appears on tonight’s concert, with some thoughtful changes coming from a team effort that included Principal Music Director John Trotter and Tom Mula. Tom also masterminded and compiled the delightful script that you will experience as told by Barbara Robertson and Greg Vinkler, our lavishly talented and experienced actors. 

With thanks to our stellar team, and with thanks to you for being here, I wish you a wonderful experience of art and of the emotion that it carries. Enjoy the show.

Warmly,

Jonathan Miller
Founder and Artistic Director

FROM THE MUSIC DIRECTOR

It was partly through Shakespeare that I first began to believe there was such a thing as “human nature”. How else could I explain a complete stranger’s ability to speak so clearly across the centuries, especially about secrets we only half-understand ourselves?

Language itself is something of a miracle, though one we often take for granted. Words develop and take hold because they reflect something of lived experience. This is true on every scale, from individual words to memorable phrases to complete works of literary art. When poets speak of the attributes of poetry, they often use terminology like “meter”, “rhythm”, and even “music”. Likewise, musicians borrow language from literary analysis to discuss compositions, speaking of “phrase”, “subject”, “answer”, and even “argument”.

Many musicians love language, but we choral musicians must also love it “up close.” The practice of lyric diction within an ensemble requires each of us to become deeply interested in and sensitive to the very phonemes that make language up. When combined, these somehow carry the mysterious freight of meaning, both denotation and connotation, to a listener’s ear, and from there may even take root somewhere much deeper.

Many composers are drawn to Shakespeare’s language and strive to set it, often finding the task more difficult than they first supposed! Since the company of appreciative creators stretches not only “across the pond”, but also back through time, a piece by the venerable George McFarren and two by Vaughan Williams add to the rich and varied menu of settings by living composers (many of whom have written these works specifically for Chicago a cappella) which make up the majority of the program. Whether you have come to join us here because you love ensemble singing, or because you love Shakespeare, or both, I trust you will find rich discoveries awaiting you.

—John William Trotter

FROM THE WRITER AND DIRECTOR

Victor Hugo said of Shakespeare, “In Shakespeare the birds sing, the bushes are clothed with green, hearts love, souls suffer, the cloud wanders, it is hot, it is cold, night falls, time passes, forests and multitudes speak, the vast eternal dream hovers over all. Sap and blood, all forms of the multiple reality, actions and ideas, man and humanity, the living and the life, solitudes, cities, religions, diamonds and pearls, dung-hills and charnel houses, the ebb and flow of beings, the steps of comers and goers, all, all are on Shakespeare and in Shakespeare.”  Laurence Olivier called him, “The nearest thing in incarnation to the eye of God.”

Thank you, Chicago a cappella. I feel very lucky to have this opportunity to work with this glorious music, these glorious words, these glorious musicians, and these glorious actors.

- Tom Mula

 

NOTES ON THE MUSIC BY JONATHAN MILLER


Kevin Olson: Summer Sonnet
Kevin Olson is an active pianist, composer, and member of the piano faculty at Utah State University, where he teaches piano literature, pedagogy, and accompanying courses. In addition to his collegiate teaching responsibilities, Kevin directs the Utah State University Youth Conservatory, which provides weekly group and private piano instruction to more than 200 pre-college community students. He composed this lovely bossa nova choral work in response to our 2003 call for new scores on Shakespeare texts.

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
—Sonnet 18

John Rutter: It was a lover and his lass
One of the most oft-performed living choral-music composers, John Rutter knows the choral art inside and out. From 1975 to 1979 he was Director of Music at Clare College, whose choir he directed in a number of broadcasts and recordings. After giving up the Clare post to allow more time for composition, he formed the Cambridge Singers as a professional chamber choir primarily dedicated to recording, and he now divides his time between composition and conducting. In 2002 his setting of Psalm 150, commissioned for the Queen’s Golden Jubilee, was performed at the Service of Thanksgiving in St. Paul’s Cathedral, London.

Penned in 1975, this light, breezy, jazzy song in five voice parts gives the feeling of a summer wedding — after the vows are done and the happy couple skips down the aisle. In fact, Chicago a cappella sang this piece on just such an occasion in 1993, the year in which we were first formed.

It was a lover and his lass,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
That o'er the green corn-field did pass,
In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding;

Sweet lovers love the spring.

Between the acres of the rye,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
These pretty country folks would lie,
In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding;
Sweet lovers love the spring.

This carol they began that hour,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
How that life was but a flower
In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding;
Sweet lovers love the spring.

And, therefore, take the present time
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
For love is crown`d with the prime
In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding;
Sweet lovers love the spring.
As You Like It, Act V, Scene iii

Robert Applebaum: Shall I compare thee?
Bob Applebaum’s wrenchingly sad, yet exquisitely beautiful music reflects the darker side of Sonnet 18. It was composed under tragic circumstances: the composer notes, “Sonnet 18 was written in memory of our daughter Carolyn. She was a drama teacher at Wilmette Junior High when she died suddenly of heart failure. She loved Shakespeare, and the sonnet was read at her funeral service. I decided to set it about a month after that.”
The music is gently tonal, adding skillful flats where most poignantly appropriate, rounding out a song of profound dignity. While many composers boldly breeze through the lines "Nor shall Death brag thou wanderst in his shade," Applebaum instead reflects on loss, reminding us that “And every fair from fair sometime declines.” The score is dedicated to Carolyn: “This gives life to thee.”

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
—Sonnet 18

Håkan Parkman: My love is a fever
His career cut tragically short by an accident, Håkan Parkman (1955–1988) left a few gems for posterity and a great deal of unfulfilled promise. He directed several choirs in his native city of Uppsala, Sweden, along with the town’s theatre orchestra. He taught choral conducting and composed several works for soloist, choir, and instruments together. Among his few published works is the lovely cycle of Three Shakespeare Songs, from which this comes.

Parkman’s Sonnet 147 is dark, brooding, and somber. Its soprano solo line moves in careful steps, up and down the scale, relentlessly charting the course of love’s feverish movement. After moving into a bright major key for lines 9 through 12, Parkman repeats the first eight lines yet again, underscoring the intensity of Shakespeare’s love-fever, only to turn jarringly at the end to the words "hell" and "night."

My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
Th’ uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve
Desire is death, which physic did except.
Past cure I am, now reason is past care,
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;
My thoughts and my discourse as madmen’s are,
At random from the truth vainly expressed:
For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.
—Sonnet 147

Matthew Harris: Take, O Take those lips away
New York-based composer Matthew Harris, a musicologist by training, is best known for his five volumes of Shakespeare Songs for mixed chorus, in which this lovely song appears. Harris chose to set "Take, O Take Those Lips Away" with "the fast, driving fury of a lover scorned" instead of the more typical slow lament. The boy who sings to Mariana to start Act IV of Measure for Measure does not seem particularly distressed; nevertheless, the musical result here is a well-balanced song of heartache. (In some modern productions, Mariana sings the words herself, expressing her own misery.)

Take, oh take those lips away,
That so sweetly were forsworn,
And those eyes: the breake of day,
Lights that do mislead the Morn;
But my kisses bring again, bring again,
Seals of love, but sealed in vain, sealed in vain.
—Measure for Measure, Act IV, Scene I

Jaakko Mäntyjärvi: Four Shakespeare Songs
Lullaby
Full fathom five
Double, double, toil and trouble

Finnish composer Jaakko Mäntyjärvi (b. 1963) is one of the leading writers of choral music of his generation. He calls himself an "eclectic traditionalist," a label that certainly fits this cycle. He is harmonically adventurous but within a tonal language that choral singers can readily grasp. Mäntyjärvi works as a translator between Finnish and English, and his command of English is astounding.
Four Shakespeare Songs (1984) was dedicated to the Savolaisen Osakunnan Laulajat student choir. The composer was studying English at a university when he composed the cycle, which he describes as "varied and demanding." The level of nuance and emotional expression in these pieces is remarkable.

Lullaby” is almost excruciatingly tender. Its open fifths and rocking meter quickly set a calm tone, but the gently falling, chromatic melody in the middle hints at sinister things to come.

FIRST FAIRY
(sings)
You spotted snakes with double tongue,
Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen.
Newts and blindworms, do no wrong.
Come not near our fairy queen.
FAIRIES
(sings)
Philomel, with melody
Sing in our sweet lullaby.
Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby.
Never harm
Nor spell nor charm
Come our lovely lady nigh.
So good night, with lullaby.
FIRST FAIRY
(sings)
Weaving spiders, come not here.
Hence, you long-legged spinners, hence!
Beetles black, approach not near.
Worm nor snail, do no offense.
FAIRIES
(sings)
Philomel, with melody
Sing in our sweet lullaby.
Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby.
Never harm
Nor spell nor charm
Come our lovely lady nigh.
So good night, with lullaby.  (TITANIA sleeps.)
A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act II, Scene ii

The slow, atmospheric "Full fathom five" sets a song from The Tempest; this is the song that the shipwrecked Prospero asks the "airy spirit," Ariel, to sing. Prospero wants Ariel’s song to lure Ferdinand, son of Alonso, Duke of Naples, to the place where Prospero is waiting. Ferdinand believes his father has drowned, a fear that Ariel’s song vividly illustrates. Musical devices such as augmented triads lend a creepy, otherworldly flavor to the text, strengthening the word images of Alonso’s body being turned into treasures of coral and pearls.

Full fathom five thy father lies,
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:
Ding-dong.
Hark! now I hear them, – ding-dong bell.
The Tempest, Act I, Scene ii

Few choral pieces anywhere can match the ferocious enthusiasm of Mäntyjärvi’s “Double, double, toil and trouble” The famous text from Macbeth meets music of like intensity. Indeed, the tempo is marked Allegro non troppo ma feroce (“fast, not too much, but fierce”). The song is cast in a relentlessly shifting and irregular meter, in which the witches’ manic brewing takes gleeful, macabre flight. Most often, Mäntyjärvi gives the narrative voices of all three witches to the entire chorus, magnifying the witches’ warped excitement.

First Witch
Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd.
Second Witch
Thrice and once the hedge-pig whined.
Third Witch
Harpier cries 'Tis time, 'tis time.
First Witch
Round about the cauldron go;
In the poison'd entrails throw.
Toad, that under cold stone
Days and nights has thirty-one
Swelter'd venom sleeping got,
Boil thou first i' the charmed pot.
ALL
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.
Second Witch
Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the cauldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt and toe of frog,
Wool of bat and tongue of dog,
Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting,
Lizard's leg and owlet's wing,
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
ALL
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
Third Witch
Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,
Witches' mummy, maw and gulf
Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark,
Root of hemlock digg'd i' the dark,
Liver of blaspheming Jew,
Gall of goat, and slips of yew
Silver'd in the moon's eclipse,
Nose of Turk and Tartar's lips,
Finger of birth-strangled babe
Ditch-deliver'd by a drab,
Make the gruel thick and slab:
Add thereto a tiger's chaudron,
For the ingredients of our cauldron.
ALL
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
Second Witch
By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes.
Open, locks,
Whoever knocks!
—Macbeth, Act IV, Scene i

I N T E R M I S S I O N

George MacFarren: Orpheus, with his lute
In his introduction to the volume English Romantic Partsongs, noted British conductor Paul Hillier notes that George MacFarren was one of the leading musical figures in mid-19th-century English life, writing and producing comic operas, symphonies, and chamber music. MacFarren wrote a number of Shakespeare settings, which feature, in Hillier’s words, “an adventuresome sense of texture and a spirited, fresh response to words.”

Orpheus with his lute made trees,
And the mountain tops that freeze,
Bow themselves when he did sing:
To his music plants and flowers
Ever sprung; as sun and showers
There had made a lasting spring.
Every thing that heard him play,
Even the billows of the sea,
Hung their heads, and then lay by.
In sweet music is such art,
Killing care and grief of heart
Fall asleep, or hearing, die.
Henry VIII, Act III, Scene i

Matthew Harris:  It was a lover and his lass
Every time that Chicago a cappella has performed this piece, audiences comment on its utter charm and appeal. It works well as a processional, too. Matthew Harris has a gem of a song on his hands here; one can easily visualize the couple walking in the springtime.

It was a lover and his lass,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
That o'er the green corn-field did pass,
In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding;

Sweet lovers love the spring.

Between the acres of the rye,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
These pretty country folks would lie,
In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding;
Sweet lovers love the spring.

This carol they began that hour,
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
How that life was but a flower
In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding;
Sweet lovers love the spring.

And, therefore, take the present time
With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
For love is crown`d with the prime
In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding;
Sweet lovers love the spring.

As You Like It, Act V, Scene iii

Robert Applebaum: Spring

Spring is the season of new love, but, as might have been said in the Bard’s time, we must needs be careful for what we ask! This song evokes the cuckoo bird, long a symbol of cuckoldry. The word “cuckold” refers to a man whose wife has, one might say, stepped out on him, because of the cuckoo’s penchant for laying eggs in another bird’s nest.

At the very end of Love’s Labour’s Lost, the final entertainment of the play contrasts the songs of the cuckoo and the owl.  The playful call of the cuckoo (set here in the women’s voices) warns the jealous husband that cuckoldry is near: “O word of fear / Unpleasing to a married ear.”  Armado refers to the cuckoo’s song as “the songs of Apollo,” and the play ends there.

I.
When daisies pied and violets blue
And lady-smocks all silver-white
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue
Do paint the meadows with delight,
The cuckoo then on every tree
Mocks married men, for thus sings he,
Cuckoo;
Cuckoo, cuckoo: O, word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear!

II.
When shepherds pipe on oaten straws,
And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks,
When turtles tread, and rooks and daws,
And maidens bleach their summer smocks,
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Mocks married men, for thus sings he:
Cuckoo;
Cuckoo, cuckoo: O, word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear!
Love’s Labour’s Lost

Matthew Harris: And Will A’ Not Come Again?
“And Will A’Not Come Again?” is Ophelia’s haunting lament for the death of her father.  She directs her final outburst at Laertes, a wail fueled by her outrage at her father’s lack of a proper burial.  In his setting, Harris makes skillful use of chained suspensions, a classic 16th-century device also championed by Monteverdi. Harris also gently alternates between major and minor versions of the same chord at the very end, for the words “God ha’ mercy on his soul”—a subtle nod to Ophelia’s overwrought state.

OPHELIA
And will a’ not come again?
And will a’ not come again?
No, no, he is dead:
Go to thy death-bed:
He never will come again.
His beard was as white as snow,
All flaxen was his poll:
He is gone, he is gone,
And we cast away moan:
God ‘a’ mercy on his soul.
Hamlet, Act IV, Scene v

Jaakko Mäntyjärvi: Come away, Death (From Four Shakespeare Songs)
In Twelfth Night, Feste the clown (or fool) is asked by the duke Orsino for a song. Feste provides the following lyric. The sense of unrequited love given by Shakespeare’s fool is strong, made stronger still in Jaakko Mäntyjärvi’s heartfelt musical setting. There is a sense of deep loneliness in both lyric and music, such that the thought “Lay me, O, where / Sad true lover never find my grave” seems to hang in air at a lonely point in time, where no lover ever comes to seek out the one who has died for love.

FESTE
(sings)
Come away, come away, death,
And in sad cypress let me be laid;
Fly away, fly away, breath;
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
O prepare it;
My part of death no one so true
Did share it.
Not a flower, not a flower sweet,
On my black coffin let there be strewn:
Not a friend, not a friend greet
My poor corpse where my bones shall be thrown:
A thousand thousand sighs to save,
Lay me, O, where
Sad true lover never find my grave,
To weep there.
Twelfth Night, Act II, Scene iv

Ralph Vaughan Williams: Over Hill, Over Dale (From Three Shakespeare Songs)
Composer and conductor David Conte has written thoughtfully about this cycle and has provided this background information: Vaughan Williams wrote his Shakespeare cycle in 1951 at the request of choral conductor Armstrong Gibbs, who had requested an a cappella choral composition to be used as a “test piece” for the June festival of the Federation of Music Festivals. “Over Hill, Over Dale” is the simplest of the three movements, setting a passage from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The lyric, uttered by one of Queen Titania’s fairies (Titania herself being the fairy queen, wife of Oberon), evokes the spirit world. The soprano line represents the fairy’s narrative voice at the opening, supported by the lower parts. The ending has parallels with the ending of the composer’s Magnificat.

A wood near Athens. A Fairy speaks.
FAIRY
Over hill, over dale,
Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Over park, over pale,
Thorough flood, thorough fire,
I do wander every where,
Swifter than the moon’s sphere;
And I serve the fairy queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green:
The cowslips tall her pensioners be;
In their gold coats spots you see;
Those be rubies, fairy favours,
In those freckles live their savours:
I must go seek some dew-drops here
And hang a pearl in every cowslip’s ear.
Farewell, thou lob of spirits: I’ll be gone;
Our queen and all her elves come here anon.
A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act II, Scene i

 

 

Martha Sullivan: Blow, blow, thou winter wind
Martha Sullivan is a New York-based soprano and composer of choral and vocal music, whose prizes include winning the Dale Warland Singers’ commission competition.  She is flexible and comfortable as a performer, with musical styles ranging from medieval to contemporary.

This music is angular and a bit jarring, actually quite effective at expressing the lyric. The text comes from As You Like It. The composer writes: “The singer in the play is Amiens, one of the courtiers of the exiled Duke Senior. He is called upon to sing over the dinner that the Duke shares with the likewise exiled Orlando when they first meet in the forest of Arden. It may be read as a commentary on Orlando’s and the Duke’s similar situations (both have been exiled to the forest by their ambitious and jealous brothers), or perhaps it is a bit of catharsis. Either way, I take the line ‘This life is most jolly’ as irony.” 

Sullivan’s setting incorporates a wide combination of musical styles and influences, from the Italian 14th century to Jethro Tull. An exotic, medieval flavor creeps in at a few phrase endings. The refrain is a driving, Celtic-sounding chorus; here the composer asks the singers to make the accents round and hearty, “like the swing of a pendulum (or a beer stein).”

Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so unkind 
As man's ingratitude; 
Thy tooth is not so keen
Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude. 
Heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then, heigh-ho! the holly! 
This life is most jolly.

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, 
Thou dost not bite so nigh 
As benefits forgot: 
Though thou the waters warp, 
Thy sting is not so sharp
As friend remember'd not. 
Heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then, heigh-ho! the holly! 
This life is most jolly.
As You Like It, Act II, Scene vii

Ralph Vaughan Williams: The Cloud Capp’d Towers
Meaty and profound, this is one of the true masterpieces in the body of choral works on Shakespeare texts. The choice of text is unusual: in these verses from The Tempest, Prospero refers not only to the fleeting nature of human life but also to “the great globe itself,” which many scholars feel is a reference to the Globe Theatre in London, where so many of Shakespeare’s plays were presented. The most familiar line to modern ears is surely the last one: “We are such stuff as dreams are made of; / And our little life is rounded with a sleep.” The music is slow, marked Lento; still, the tonal center shifts continually, with half-step motion in most voice parts creating the chord changes in a manner evocative of Debussy. Even the final “sleep” has just a little motion inside of it.

The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Ye all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
The Tempest, Act IV, Scene i