Amleto Libretto

AMLETO

English Translation by Anthony Barrese and Kristen Barrett

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Tragedia lirica in quattro atti

POESIA DI

ARRIGO BOITO

MUSICA DI

FRANCO FACCIO

Lyric tragedy in four acts

POETRY BY

ARRIGO BOITO

MUSIC BY

FRANCO FACCIO

 

PERSONAGGI
Amleto
, Principe di Danimarca
Claudio
, Re di Danimarca
Polonio
, Lord ciamberlano
Orazio
, amico di Amleto
Marcello, uffiziale
Laerte
, figlio di Polonio
Ofelia
, figlia di Polonio
Geltrude
, Regina di Danimarca,
madre di Amleto
Lo Spettro

Un Sacerdote
Un Araldo
Tre cantori
Primo becchino
Secondo becchino

ARTISTI
Primo Tenore
Primo Baritono
Basso Comprimario Basso Secondo Basso
Secondo Basso
Altro Tenore
Primo Soprano
Primo Mezzo-
Soprano
Primo Basso
Secondo Basso
Secondo Tenore
Soprano, Tenore, Basso
Secondo Basso
Corifeo

CHARACTERS
Hamlet
, Prince of Denmark
Claudius
, King of Denmark
Polonius
, Lord chamberlain
Horatio
, Hamlet’s friend
Marcellus
, official
Laertes
, Polonio’s son
Ophelia
, Polonio’s daughter
Gertrude, Queen of Denmark,
Hamlet’s mother
The Ghost

A Priest
A Herald
Three Singers
First gravedigger
Second gravedigger
ARTISTS
First Tenor
First Baritone
Comprimario
Second Bass
Second Bass
Second Tenor
First Soprano
First Mezzo-
Soprano
First Bass
Second Bass
Second Tenor
Soprano, Tenor, Bass
Second Bass
Mute

Cortigiani, Dame, Uffiziali, Soldati, Popolo

La Scena è in Elsinore

Courtiers, Ladies, Officials, Soldiers, People

The scene is set  in Elsinore

ATTO PRIMO

PARTE PRIMA.

FIRST ACT

FIRST PART.

Frailty, thy name is woman!

Frailty, thy name is woman!

Gran Sala reale nel Castello d’Elsinora.

The Great Royal Hall in Elsinor Castle.

Il Re, la Regina, Amleto, Polonio, Laerte, Ofelia, Dame,
   Cortigiani, Ciamberlani, Ufficiali, poscia Marcello e
   Orazio.  Festa d’incoronazione.  Il nuovo Re beve a
   mensa; ad ogni tazza ch’egli vuota scoppiano gli evviva
   per tutta la reggia.

TUTTI   Viva il Re!
RE                         Di giullivi clamori
                   Sorga un tuon per le splendide sale,
                   fra i suoni, le danze, i fulgori,
                   S’alzi un carme che narri di me.
                   Nè si vuoti una tazza regale
                   Se pria l’Orbe il suo plauso non diè!
                Alla vostra salute, o signori!
LAE. e POL.      Viva il Re!
COR. e DAM.                  Viva il Re!
UFF.                                               Viva il Re!
AML.       (Ah si dissolva quest’abbietta forma
                Di duolo e colpe! si dissolva in nulla.
                Deh! se il rejetto suicida non fosse
                Fulminato da Dio!… per me la vita
                È dannazione, e la terra un immondo
                Loto maligno – E qui si danza, e un mese
                Non è compiuto che morì mio padre!…
                Ahi vituperio! e le incestuose membra
                Con impaziente foja abbandonava
                La sposa del magnanimo defunto
                Nell’adre braccia di quel drudo! Orrore!
                Ti frena o lingua, e non tradir lo sdegno
                Che nel profondo cor fatal mi lancia.)
LAE.           Su beviam negli eletti bicchieri,
                     Fra il gioir delle danze cocenti.
I. COR.    Altra danza da prodi guerrieri
                     Danzerem ove il voglia la fè.
UFF.             Ove il fier Fortebraccio s’attenti
                     Di levar la sua spada su te.
RE              Alla vostra salute, o messeri!
LAE., POL.          Viva il Re!
COR.                                  Viva il Re!
UFF.                                                 Viva il re!           (segue
                                                                             una danza)
RE              Caro Amleto, e qual t’ange rancura
                      Che t’arruga la fronte pensosa?
AML.          Nulla, o re, sol contrasta l’oscura
                      Veste e il lutto fra tanto splendor.
REG.           Caro Amleto, men triste e crucciosa
                      Volgi al re la parola del cor.
COR.e      Su, danziam, per le splendide mura
DAME           Tutto esulta di luce e d’amor.
OFE.           Leva, o prence, lo sguardo giocondo.
LAE.              Non t’attristi de’ morti il pensiero.
REG.              Egli è fato comune che al mondo
                      Ciò che ha vita è dannato a perir.
AML.          (amaramente)
                   Ben parlate, signora, davvero.
COR.              Dunque ognuno s’affretti al gioir,
                      Poich’è fato comune che al mondo
                      Ciò che ha vita è dannato a perir.
          (Entra Ofelia e s’avvicina gentilmente ad Amleto.)

OFE.        Principe Amleto! Tutto mesto e nero
                Fra gli splendori del regal connubio,
                Rassomigli alla larva del Mistero.

AML.   (cupamente)
                O al fantasma del Dubbio!

OFE.  (sempre ad Amleto)
                                Dubita pur che brillino
                                Degli astri le carole,
                                Dubita pur che il sole
                                Fulga, e che sulla rorida
                                Zolla germogli il fior;
                                Dubita delle lagrime,
                                Dubita del sorriso,
                                E dubita degli angeli
                                Che sono in paradiso,
                                Ma credi nell’amor!

RE           È pertinace invero un tal corruccio,
                Cugino mio; d’un travïato core
                E’ mi discopre le violenti fibre
                Immansuete. Al cielo offendi, o insano,
                Cogli eterni sospir; la rassegnata
                Pazïentar è virtù, smetti il cordoglio.
                Nello immutabil fato ell’è follia
                Coll’umana cervice dar di cozzo.
                Ed or ch’esulta Danimarca intera
                Non venga il duolo a rattristarci: ai morti
                Tributiamo un pensier di ricordanza,
                Pur misto al gaudio di procaci pose
                E di bicchieri spumeggianti; il riso
                Stia del labbro signore, e nel profondo  
                Petto s’accolga la pietà del pianto. –
                Così, messeri; e un pio brindisi or scioglo
                Per darvi il retto esempio.
CORT.                                                     E noi ti udiamo.
RE              Requie ai defunti – e colmisi
                      D’almo liquor la tazza,
                      Oriam per essi – e il calice
                      Sia vittima ed altar.
                   Tal che fra i suoni e i cantici
                      Dell’ora ardente e pazza,
                      Scenda rugiada e balsamo
                      Sui morti il pio libar.
                                Libiam! La lagrima
                                   Sul ciglio spunti.
                                   Oriam! – e tremulo
                                     Vacilli il piè.
                                   Requie ai defunti!
CORT.                        E gloria al re!!
REG.           Requie ai defunti – e intreccinsi
                      Poëtiche carole.
                      Oriam per essi – e un cantico
                      Alziam di voluttà.
                   Lungi dai morti il lugubre
                      Cipresso e le vïole.
                      La danza ai mesti spiriti
                      Più dolce assai sarà.
                                Libiam! la lagrima
                                   Sul ciglio spunti.
                                   Oriam! ed agile
                                   Trasvoli il piè.
                                   Requie ai defunti!
CORT.                        E gloria al re!
AML.          (Dell’ebro la bestemmia
                      Punisci, o Dio possente,
                      Fa che non giunga all’anima
                      Del padre mio dormente.
                      La requie eterna i perfidi
                      Pregan pel genitor,
                   Ma la lor prece è folgore
                      Che ricadrà su lor.)
OFE.           (La pace eterna e il placido
                      Riposo dei beati
                      Invoco io pur sull’anime
                      Dei giusti trapassati.
                      Ma le mie labbra al calice
                      Non posso avvicinar.)
LAE.           Su bevi, Ofelia, e allegrati…            (porgendole
OFE.              Lasciatemi pregar.                           una tazza)
CORT. E DAME      Libiam! la lagrima
                                   Sul ciglio spunti.
                                   Oriam! ed agile
                                   Trasvoli il piè.
RE                               Requie ai defunti!
TUTTI                         E gloria al re!!
        (Entrano Marcello ed Orazio, e s’accostano ad Amleto)
MAR.       (Prence.
ORA.                    Signor.
AML.                             Mio buon Marcello… Orazio…)
LAE.        (al Re)
                Bello il brindisi affè. – Per le purganti
                Anime tristi avrà valso mill’anni
                Di bëata indulgenza.
POL.                                       Ed all’arsiccio
                Gorgozzule bramoso una felice
                Innaffïata.
AML.       (ad Orazio e Marcell)
                                    È ver; seguîr le nozze
            Ben presto ai funerali – Oh! padre mio!…
            Parmi vederlo.
MAR.                             E dove?…
AML.                                               Coll’ardente
                Pupilla del pensiero.
ORA.                                    O mio buon prence,
                Nella passata notte io sì che ‘l vidi.
AML.       Chi?…
ORA.                  Vostro padre?…
MAR.                                          Il vidi anch’io!!..)
LAE.        (colla tazza alzata)                   Versate.
                      Sovra il desco innebriato
                         Piovan canti, incenso e fiori,
                         Piovan nembi di fulgori,
                         Piovan vergini beltà!
CORO            E la reggia un incantato
                         Paradiso ci parrà!…
ORA.       (Nell’ora dei morti – vegliava Marcello
(a Aml.)  Soligno in vedetta – lunghesso il castello.
MAR.         Vegghiavo in vedetta – quand’ecco ver me
                   S’avanza tremendo – lo spettro del re.
                Tre volte l’immota – pupilla da morto
                   Brillar di corusche – scintille v’ho scorto.
                   Tre volte le cupe – mascelle sbarrò,
                   E presso al mio corpo – tre volte passò.)
POL.        (dal desco)
                                Son discesi in questa reggia
                                   Una turba di giullari.
LAE.(scher-                Con prestigi e giochi rari
zosamente)                  E diaboliche virtù.
AML.       (Nè motto a lui feste?
MAR.                                       Richiesîl tremante,
                   Pur muto ed immobil – mi stette davante.
ORA.          Sol credo una volta – volesse parlar.
MAR.          Ma sparve repente – d’un gallo al cantar.)
OFE.                        Sì davver?… (Dal desco)
LAE.                                        Nullo pareggia
                                   A codesti cerretani.
POL.                           Son di climi assai lontani.
LAE.                           Figli son di Belzebù.
AML.       (E avea la sembianza?…
MAR.                                           Sdegnosa ed altera
ORA.       E ritta sull’elmo – tenea la visiera.)
CORT.                     Su, la danza si scateni
                                   Furibonda ardente e pazza.
UFF.                           Dall’ebbrezza della tazza
                                   All’ebbrezza dell’amor.
ORA.       (ad Amleto)
                (Signor, questa notte – di scolta sarò.
AML.          Ebben questa notte – pur io ci verrò.)
CORT.                     Ve’ l’ansar de’ bianchi seni,
                                   Ve’ degli ochi la baldanza
UFF.                           Danza, danza, danza, danza!
                                   Tutto è riso, luce e amor!
AML.       (Ben io gli parlerò, se pur l’averno
                Tutto s’armasse contro me; sepolto
                Resti in voi l’accaduto. E in questa notte
                Vo’ veder l’ombra di mio padre.)
RE           (gridando dal desco)                       Ai morti
                La requie eterna, e ai vivi la follia!
LAE.        Ben dice il re. Danziamo!
AML.                                             (Io d’un mal gioco
                Sospetto assai)
MAR                                             Che pensi Amleto?
AML.                                                      Andiamo.    (parte
TUTTI       Su la danza si scateni                 con Ora. e Mar.)
                     Furibonda, ardente e pazza,
                     E si getti al suol la tazza,
                     E trasvoli ardente il piè.
CORT.        Ve’ l’ansar de’ bianchi seni,
UFF.              Ve’ degli occhi la baldanza.
TUTTI          Danza, danza, danza, danza!
CORT.           Al re gloria!
TUTTI                             Gloria al re!
                (Il Re abbandona la festa accompagnato della
                Regina e dai ciamberlani. – Grida di evviva).

The King, the Queen, Hamlet, Polonius, Laertes, Ophelia,          Ladies, Courtesans, Chamberlans, Officials, then
Marcellus
and Horatio.  Coronation festival.  The new king
drinks at the table; cheers explode through the whole
kingdom every time he empties a glass.

ALL   Long live the King!
KING                                 May a thunder of merry noise
                Rise through the magnificent halls,
                And among the sounds, the dances, and the lights,
                May a poem telling of me rise up.
                Nor may one empty a royal cup
                Before the Earth gives its approval!
          To your health, o sirs!
LAE. and POL.   Long live the King!
COR. and LADIES                 Long live the King!
OFF.                                                     Long live the King!
HAM.      (May this vile form of sadness and
                Guilt dissolve! May it dissolve into nothing.
                Ah! Would that the outcast suicide were not
                Struck down by God!… Life is damnation
                For me, and the earth an unclean malignant
                Lotus – And here they dance, and not even a
                Month has gone by since my father died!…
                Ah insult! And the wife of this departed,
                Magnanimous man abandoned her incestuous
                Limbs to the ardent arms of that lover with
                Impatient lust! Oh horror! Hold your tongue, and
                Do not betray the scorn that throws itself
                Into my profound and fatal heart.)
LAE.        Come let’s drink from the select glasses,
                   Among the rejoicing of the scorching dances.
COUR.        We will dance another dance of brave warriors
                   Wherever fate dictates it.
OFF.           Wherever the proud Fortunbras dare
                   to raise his sword above you.
KING       To your health, oh sirs!
LAE., POL.    Long live the King!
COUR                      Long live the King!
OFF.                               Long live the king!           (a dance
                                                                               follows)
KING       Dear Hamlet, what rancor torments you
                   What wrinkles your thoughtful brow?
HAM.      Nothing, o king, only the contrast of gloomy
                   Clothes and mourning among so much splendor.
QU.          Dear Hamlet, offer a less sad and scornful word      
                   From your heart to the King.
COUR.        Come let’s dance, among the splendid walls
LAD.          Everything exults with light and love.
LAE..       O Prince, raise a happy glance.
                 Do not sadden yourself with thoughts of the dead.
QU.             It is a common fact that in this world that which
                   Has life is damned to perish.
HAM.      (bitterly)
                Well spoken, madam, in truth.
COUR.        Therefore let everyone hasten to rejoice,
                   Since it is a common fact that in this world that
                   Which has life is damned to perish.
        (Ophelia enters and gently approaches Hamlet.)

OPH.       Prince Hamlet! All saddened and black
                Among the splendors of the royal marriage,
                You resemble the ghost of Mystery.

HAM.      (sullenly)
                Or the phantom of Doubt!

OPH.       (always to Hamlet)
                                Doubt that the songs
                                Of the stars sparkle,
                                Doubt  that the sun
                                Shines, and that a flower
                                Sprouts on the dewy turf;
                                Doubt tears,
                                Doubt smiles,
                                And doubt the angels
                                That are in paradise,
                                But believe in love!

KING      Such indignation is pertinacious in truth,
                My cousin; It reveals to me the violent
                Untamed fibers of a lost heart.
                Oh madman, you offend heaven
                With your eternal sighs; Resigned
                Patience is a virtue, stop this sorrow.
                It is folly for the human will to be in
                Opposition to unchangeable destiny.
                And now that all of Denmark exults
                May sorrow not come to sadden us: Let us
                Pay tribute to the dead with a thought of
                Remembrance, yet mixed with the joy of
                Provocative poses and bubbling glasses;
                May laughter be on your lips my lord, and
                May you welcome the pity of tears in the depths
                of your bosom. – And thus my lords, to give you
                A proper example I’ll unleash a pious Brindisi.
COURT.                                  And we will listen to you.
KING.         Rest to the deceased – and let your
                      Cups be filled with spirited liquor
                      Let us pray for them – and may the
                      Chalice be sacrifice and altar.
                   Such that the pious libation drops
                      Dew and balm on the dead
                      Among sounds and songs
                      Of the ardent and mad hour,
                                Let us drink! May a tear
                                   Sprout on your eye.
                                   Let us pray! – and let
                                    Your feet tremulously sway
                                    Rest to the deceased!
COURT.                      And glory to the king!!
QUEEN.     Rest to the deceased – and may
                      Poetic carols be woven.
                      Let us pray for them – and let us raise a
                      Canticle of pleasure.
                   Distance from the dead the lugubrious
                      Cypresses and violets.
                      A dance will be much sweeter
                      To the saddened spirits.
                                   Let us drink! May a tear
                                      Sprout on your eye.
                                      Let us pray! And may your
                                      Feet tread with agility.
                                      Rest to the deceased
COURT.                        And glory to the king!
HAM.         (O powerful God, punish the
                      Blasphemy of this drunkard,
                      Let it not reach the soul
                      Of my sleeping father.                              
                      The treacherous pray the
                      Eternal peace for him,
                   But their prayer is a thunderbolt
                      That will fall back on them.)
OFE.           (I too invoke eternal peace
                      And the placid repose of the
                      Blessed for the souls of the
                      Fair deceased.
                      But my lips cannot
                      Approach the chalice.)
LAE.           Come drink, Ophelia, and be merry…   (offering
OPH.             Let me pray.                                     her a cup)
COURT. and LAD.  Let us drink! May a tear
                                   Sprout on your eye.
                                    Let us pray! And may your
                                   Feet tread with agility.
KING                          Rest to the deceased!
ALL                            And glory to the king!
       (Marcellus and Horatio enter and approach Hamlet)
MAR.       (Prince.
HOR.                   My lord.
HAM.                              My good Marcellus… Horatio…)
LAE.        (to the King)
                In faith the brindisi is beautiful – It will have
                Earned the sad, purgative souls one thousand
                Years of blessed indulgence.
POL.                                        And a happy
                Watering for a yearning,
                Parched throat.
HAM.      (to Horatio and Marcellus)
                                   It is true; the wedding ceremonies
                Quickly followed the funeral – Oh! My father!…
                I seem to see him.
MAR.                                 Where?…
HAM.                                              With the burning
                Pupil of my thoughts.
HOR.                                       O my good prince,
                I too saw him last night.
HAM.      Who?…
HOR.                  Your father?…
MAR.                                       I too saw him!!…)
LAE.        (with a raised cup)                             Pour.
                   May songs, incense and flowers
                      Rain down upon this inebriated table,
                      Let clouds of lightening shower down
                      Let virgin beauties rain down!
CHORUS     And the kingdom will seem an
                      Enchanted paradise to us!…
HOR.       (In the hour of the dead – Marcellus was keeping
(to HA.)   Watch all alone – along the fortress.
MAR.            I was keeping watch – when the terrible ghost
                     Of the king advanced towards me.
                Three times – the unmoving pupil of the dead man
                     I noticed it shimmering – with glowing sparks.
                     Three times the dark – jaws blocked my way
                     And he passed near my body – three times.)
POL.        (from the table)     
                                A throng of jesters
                                   Has descended on this kingdom.
LAE. (jok-                  With prestige and rare games
ingly)                          And diabolical virtue.
HAM.      (You didn’t speak a word to him?
MAR.                                               Trembling I asked him
                   Yet silent and immobile he remained.
HOR.          I believe he only wanted to speak one time.
MAR.          He disappeared quickly at the cock’s crowing.)
OPH.              Yes really?…. (From the table)
LAE.                                        There’s no comparison
                           With these charlatans.
POL.                   They are from far away climates.
LAE.                   They are sons of Beelzebub.
HAM.      (And he had the features?…
MAR.                                               Disdainful and proud
HOR.       And he kept his visor straight on his helmet.)
COURT.                  Come, let the dance break out
                                   Furious passionate and mad.
OFF.                           From the intoxication of the glass
                                   To the intoxication of love.
HOR.       (to Hamlet)
                (My lord, this night – I will keep watch.
HAM.      Well then this night – I will also come.)
COURT.        See the heaving of white bosoms,
                         See the eyes’ boldness
OFF.                 Dance, dance, dance, dance!
                         Everything is laughing, light and love!
HAM.      (Good, I will speak to him, should all of
                Hell arm itself against me;  May this event
                Remained buried in you. And in this night
                I will see the shadow of my father.)
KING      (yelling from the table)                   To the dead
                Eternal rest, and to the living madness!
LAE.        Well said King. Let us dance!
HAM.                                                 (I very much
                Suspect foul play)
MAR                                 What do you think Hamlet?
HAM.                                      Let’s go           (he leaves with
ALL         Come, let the dance break out         Hor. and Mar.)
                   Furious passionate and mad.
                   Let your glass be thrown to the ground,
                   And let your feet fly ardently.
COURT.  See the heaving of white bosoms,
OFF.           See the eyes’ boldness.
ALL            Dance, dance, dance, dance!
COURT.     Glory to the king!
ALL                                        Glory to the king!
                (The king abandons the festivities accompanied by
                the queen and by chamberlains. – Shouts of evviva).

               

PARTE SECONDA.

SECOND PART.

O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible!

O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible!

(Una piattaforma. È oscura notte; nel lontano il Castello d’Elisinora).

Amleto, Orazio, Marcello, avvolti in lunghi mantelli
s’avanzano lentamente, poscia lo Spettro.

(A platform. It is darkest night; in the distance is the Castel of Elsinore)..

Hamlet, Horatio, Marcellus, wrapped in long cloaks
Slowly advance, later the Ghost.

AML.       Soffia la brezza acuta.
ORA.                                       Il freddo punge.
AML.       Quante ore son?
MAR.                               Cred’io che poco manchi
                A mezzanotte
ORA.                          È già scoccata.
MAR.                                                   Allora
                Non posi mente. – Il tempo s’avvicina 
                Che suol lo spettro errar fra questi spaldi.
       (s’odono musiche dal Castello, i tre rimangono muti
                per qualche istante.  Apparisce lo spettro)
MAR.       Ecco egli vien…
AML.                                Gran Dio… misericordia!…
                Vegliate su di me, santi del cielo!!
                E te, spettro vagante, angelo o furia,
                Spirto di pace o di martiri, invoco!
                Sotto care sembianze a me ne vieni,
                Te nomo padre, a me rispondi, e il velo
                Di mia mente dirada. A me rispondi!
                E qual misterio la tua salma avviva,
                Che dall’avello ne risorgi, e getti
                Il lenzuol della morte, e vagolando
                Cadavere vivente e d’armi cinto
                Vieni nell’alta notte a spaventare
                Col morto aspetto i vivi? A me rispondi! –
                (lo Spettro accenna col braccio ad Orazio e Marcello)
ORA.       Ei d’andar ne fa cenno.  Al solo Amleto
                Parlar vorrà.
AML.                         V’allontanate.
MAR.                                             O prence,
                Nè temi?…
AML.                       Io nulla; ite, ven prego.
MAR.      (a Orazio)                                    (Orazio,
                Poco discosti gli starem; col morto
                Mal fora abbandonarlo. Andiam qui presso.)
                                            (s’internano verso la piattaforma)
                                                                        (lungo silenzio)
SPE.            Tu dêi saper ch’io son l’anima lesa
                      Del morto padre tuo, su cui lo sdegno
                      Dell’Eterna Giustizia incombe e pesa.
                   Me stesso fei per mio fallire indegno
                      Ed or le colpe nella vita lieta
                      Purgo col foco del dolente regno.
                   Oh! se non fosse il ciel che lo mi vieta
                      Io ti direi del mio patir, che ghiaccio
                      Per lo terror ti si faria la creta.
                   Pur alte cose udir t’è forza; impaccio
                      Non ti sia lo spavento. O figlio! o figlio!!
                      Vendetta io vo’ del maledetto braccio
                   Che mi diè morte…
AML.       (con impeto immenso) Orror! Deh narra, e quale…
                      Qual fu colui?… ch’io lo conosca, e ratto
                      Come un desio d’amor voli e l’uccida!!!
                                     (s’odono ancora le musiche di danza)
SPE.         Or se la tua parola è in cuor nudriva,
                   Ascolta o figlio: in Danimarca suona
                   D’un serpe reo che mi furò la vita,
                E ognun di ciò come del ver ragiona,
                   Ma il ver tu sappi; il serpe che m’ha spento
                   O porta in capo la regal corona.
AML.       Ahi! veggente cor mio!!
SPE.                                             Ma intorno io sento
                   Come un olir di soffio mattutino;
                   Breve adunque sarò. – Era il momento
                Dopo il meriggio, e sceso nel giardino
                   Dormia sonno di pace, allor che il tristo
                   Fratello mio s’appiatta a me vicino.
                E con orrenda man, goccia, non visto,
                   Nel mio orecchio un venen sì rio che d’angue
                   Soperchia ogni puntura, e d’improvvisto
                Congela il cor nell’attoscato sangue.
                   E tal morimmi d’atra scabbia impura
                   Lasciando maculato il corpo esangue.
                L’anima poi dei vizi la lordura
                   Lava soffrendo, e nella cupa notte
                   Così vestita errando si rancura.
                Orribil cosa! e tu se pur corrotte
                   Non hai le fonti d’ogni senso umano
                   Faimi vendetta! – Or riedo alle mie grotte:
                Fra l’ignei guai, poichè là nel lontano
                   Scerno del ciel la nube piccioletta
                   Biancheggiar di splendore antelucano,
                E languidir la stanca luccioletta.
                   Io m’accommando, ti sorregga Iddio.
                   Ricorditi di me, della vendetta.
                Già più non dico, è giunta l’ora; addio.     (si spro-
AML.          Angioli e Santi! inferno e ciel! reggete      fonda)
                   Queste mie membra e questa mente, e il core
                   Non divenga pusillo. Ah! mio buon padre,
                   Vendicato sarai, lo giuro.        (entrano affannosi
ORA.                                         Amleto…   Orazio e Marc.)
MAR.          Signor?
ORA.                      (Lo guardi Iddio!)
AML.                                               Miei cari, un lieve
                Favor non mi negate; il gran prodigio
                   Che in questa notte apparve alcun nol sappia.
ORA.          Nulla direm.
AML.                            Giurate.
ORA.                                        Sulla fede.
MARC.   Sulla fede giuriamo.
ORA.                                    E sulla spada.          (sguainano
SPETTRO  (di sotterra)                                          le spade)
                    Giurate!…
AML.                          Sì, scenda su te la requie,
                   Spirto affannato.
SPET.                                  Per la fe’ giurate!
                              AML., ORA. e MAR.
                   Giurammo, sì.                   (incrociando le spade)
SPET.                              Giurate!
AML.                                           O miei compagni,
                   Preghiam per lui.
AML., ORA. e MAR. (inginocchiandosi)
                                                De profundis clamavi….

HAM.      The sharp breeze blows.
HOR.                                         The cold stings.
HAM.      What time is it?
MAR.                              I believe that it is a little
                Before midnight.
HOR.                              It has already struck
MAR.                                                            Then do not let
                Your mind rest. – The time is nearing when
                Only the ghost wanders among these terraces.
                (music is heard from the Castle, the three remain
                mute for a few moments. The ghost appears)
MAR.       There he comes…
HAM.                                  Good God!… mercy!
                Watch over me, saints in heaven!!
                And you, wandering ghost, angel or demon,
                Spirit of peace or suffering, I invoke!
                You come to me under beloved appearances,
                I call you father, answer me, and lift
                The veil from my mind. Answer me!
                And what mystery can your remains animate,
                That from the tomb you rise, and throw off
                Your death sheet, living cadaver, and wandering
                Uncertain and encircled in armor you come in
                High night to frighten the living with the  
                Appearance of a dead man. Answer me! –
                (The Ghost points out Horatio and Marcellus with his arm)
HOR.       He gives us the signal to leave. He only wishes to
                Speak with Hamlet.
HAM.                                     Go away.
MAR.                                                   O prince,
                You don’t fear him?…
HAM.                      I fear nothing, go, I beg you.
MAR.      (to Horatio)                                        (Horatio,
                We will stay close to him; it would be bad to
                Leave him with the dead man. Let us go nearby.)
                                   (They withdraw towards the platform)
                                                                         (long silence)
GH.             You must know that I am the injured soul
                      Of your dead father, upon which the scorn
                      Of Eternal Justice hangs over and weighs.
                   I myself did this by my shameful failures
                      And now the guilt of my happy life
                      I purge with the fire of a sorrowful kingdom.
                   Oh! Would that heaven had not forbidden me
                      I would tell you of my suffering, which would
                      Freeze you from terror, and turn you into clay.
                   Yet noble things force you to listen; may fear
                      Not be an obstacle. O son! O son!!
                      I want vengeance from the damned arm
                   That gave me death…
HAM.      (with immense force) Horror! Tell me, and who…
                      Who was it?… Let me know him, and quickly
                       Like love’s desire let me fly to kill him!!!
                                    (music from the dance is heard again)
GH.             Now if your word of honor is felt in your heart,    
                      Listen my son: in Denmark they say that an
                      Evil serpent took my life,
                   And everyone reasons that this is the truth,
                      But know the truth; the serpent that killed me
                      Now wears on his head the royal crown.
HAM.         Ahi! My prophetic heart!!
GH.                                                    But around me I smell
                      The morning breeze like a perfume;
                      Therefore I will be brief. – It was the moment
                   After midday, and having descended into the     
                      Garden, I slept in peace, when my wicked
                      Brother hid himself near me. And with
                   A terrible unseen hand, dripped into my
                      Ear a poison so evil that it overpowered
                      Every snake bite, and suddenly
                   My heart froze with poisoned blood.
                      And thus I died of black impure desiccation
                      Leaving my immaculate body bloodless.
                   Then my soul purifies the filth of my vice
                      through suffering, and in the dark night
                      Dressed thus grieves wandering about.
                   Horrible thing! And you, if the sources of all
                      Your human feelings are not yet corrupted,
                      Avenge me! – Now I return to my cave:
                   Among fervid woes, since there in the
                      Distance I see a tiny cloud from heaven
                      Whiten with pre-dawn splendor,
                   And the tired little glow-worm languishes.
                      I implore you, may God support, you.
                      Remember me, remember vengeance.
                   I will say no more, the time has come; adieu.     (he
HAM.          Angels and Saints! Heaven and Hell!           vanishes)
                    Sustain my limbs and mind, and may my
                    Heart not become cowardly. Ah! My good
                    Father, you will be avenged, I swear it.       (Hor and
HOR.                       Hamlet…                Marc. enter breathlessly)
MAR.             My lord?
HOR.                               (May God watch over him!)
HAM.                                                     My friends, do not
            Deny me a small favor; may no one know of the
                   Great wonder that appeared this night.
HOR.          We won’t say anything.
HAM.                                         Swear.
HOR.                                                   On my faith.
MARC.   Let us swear on our faith.
HOR.                                     And on our swords                (they
GH. (from underground)                           unsheathe their swords)
              Swear!…
HAM.                  Yes, may rest descend upon you,
                   Perturbed spirit.
GH.                                   Swear by your faith!
                           HAM., HOR., and MAR.
                   We have sworn, yes.                    (they cross their swords)
GH.                                    Swear!
HAM.                                            O my companions,
                   Pray for him.
HAM., HOR., and MAR. (kneeling)
                                                      De profundis clamavi….

Cala la tela.

FINE DELL’ATTO PRIMO.

The curtain falls.

END OF THE FIRST ACT.

ATTO SECONDO

PARTE PRIMA.

SECOND ACT

FIRST PART.

To be, or not to be!

To be, or not to be!

Una Sala nel Castello.

Il Re, la Regina, Polonio, poscia Amleto.

A Hall in the Castle.

The King, the Queen, Polonius, then Hamlet.

POL.       Egli ha mania di gironzar soventi
                Lungh’ore in questa sala.
RE                                                Or ben, qual prova
                Ne date voi che fia suggel del vero?
POL.       Quand’ei qui giunga, a lui verrà mia figlia,
                Ed appiattati dietro a quell’arazzo
                Avvertirem le lor parole. Il giuro;
                Amleto è pazzo per amor d’Ofelia.
                Io non vi mento, o re, mi condannate
                Se falso è il mio parlar.
REG.                                        Ecco ei s’appressa
                Pensoso in aria di dolor.
POL.                                            Partiamo,
                Sir.           (partono cautamente.  S’avanza Amleto
                                    assorto in profondissima meditazione)
AML.          Essere o non essere! codesta
                La testi ell’è – Morir? – Dormire – e poi?…
                Finir le angoscie di quest’egra e lercia
                Di carne eredità con un letargo!…
                Morir? – dormire – e poi?… Dormir – sognare!!!
                Qui si dismaga l’intelletto; e quali
                Sogni fuggiti dalla grama vita
                Verranno a popolar quella ferale
                Eternità di sonno?… E qui s’impiglia
                L’umana mente! e n’esce il dubbio; e n’esce
                Il lungo pazientar de sventurati.
                Ah se bastasse il rapido
                Baglior d’uno stiletto
                A ottenebrarci anima
                In fondo al cataletto,
                Chi mai vorria l’ingiurie
                Dell’oppressor soffrire,
                I disinganni e l’ire,
                E le tradite fè?
                Ma dalla tomba s’alzano
                Fantasmi di terrore
                Ma il mondo ner che riedere
                Mai non lasciò viatore
                Ci lega alle miserie
                Di questa età mortale
                Pria che gettarci al male
                Che noto ancor non è.
                                     (entra Ofelia
                          con un cofanetto fra mani)
                Chi vien? la giovinetta Ofelia.
OFE.                                                   Prence.
AML.       (fingendo la demenza)
                   Odi o gentil – quando la sera
                      Stende la bruna – ala pel ciel,
                      Quand’ergi a Dio – la tua preghiera
                      Prostrata a piè – del santo ostel,
                   Prega pei mesti – cui passion fiera
                      Fè morto il cuore – morta la fè;
                   Del santo ostel – prostrata al piè,
                                                                    Prega per me.
OFE.           Signor, da gran tempo – tenevo nel cor
                      Di rendervi questa – memoria d’amor,
                      È d’oro e d’argento – è degna d’un re,
                      Ma pur pe’ miei sguardi – l’incanto perdè!
AML.                                                           Prega per me.
OFE.           Prendetela o prence.
AML.                                                  Che mormori mai,
                      Vezzosa fanciulla – dai fulgidi rai?
OFE.              Se morto v’è il cuore – se morta la fè,
                      Per me questo pegno – l’incanto perdè.
AML.                                                           Prega per me.
                      Ma pur s’egli è vero, – che un giorno t’amai,
                      Vezzosa fanciulla – dai fulgidi rai,
                      Vo’ darti un consiglio – ascoltalo o bella;
                      Recidi del capo – le morbide anella;
                                                                 Fatti monachella.
OFE.           Lo salva, o Signore – pietoso possente,
                      Disperdi le nubi – dell’egra sua mente,
                      Ascolta d’un’alma – la pura favella,
                      Ascolta la prece – di mesta donzella.
AML.                                                          Fatti monachella.
                      Ma pur s’hai nel core – di farti uno sposo,
                      In dote vo’ darti – tal motto cruccioso;
                      Sii pura, sii casta – mia povera bella,
                      Ma l’empia calunnia – diratti rubella.
.                                                                 Fatti monachella.
                Sì fatti monachella. – E se marito
                Pigliar t’è forza, allor ti sposa a un pazzo;
                Di ciò t’assenno, perchè i saggi han mente
                Da discerner quai mostri usin le spose
                Far de’ lor sposi – ti fa monachella.
                Ed or ten va, ten va; non più parola
                Su ciò che il senno mi turbava. Il giuro,
                Connubi più non si faran; coloro
                Che ammogliati son già viver potranno,
                Viver potranno tutti fuor d’un solo…
OFE.           Lo salva, o Signore – pietoso, possente,
                      Disperdi le nubi – dell’egra sua mente.
AML.             Vo’ darti un consiglio – mia povera bella,
                      Recidi del capo – le morbide anella.
                      Fatti monachella – fatti monachella.
                                 (Ofelia s’allontana pensierosa e dolente)
POL.        (rientrando)
                Prence, v’annuncio de’ cantor l’arrivo.
AML.       Oibò!
POL.              Da senno a noi verran fra breve.
AML.             A caval d’un asinello
                                Galoppava un menestrello.
POL.           Ponete orecchio al mio parlar.
AML.                                                       Vecchiardo,
                   Un gran tesor possidi.
POL.                                          E quale o prence?
AML.      Una figliola – fresca e gentil
                                Come viola – di primo april.
POL.        Vi parlai dei cantor.
AML.                                    Sta ben, gli accogli
                Cortesemente, e di’ lor ch’io comando
                Per questa sera una grande tragedia,
                Per esempio: l’orribile assassinio
                Di Re Gonzaga.
POL.                              Prence sì.                              (esce)
AML.       Il dramma dei cantor è l’atra istoria
                Dell’uccision del padre mio: presente
                Il re sarà. – Vo’ scrutinar quell’occhio
                Nelle remote impressïon del core….  
                S’ei raccapriccia…. Io mi sobbarco al colpo!
                                                           (esce precipitosamente)

POL.        He has the strange habit of strolling about often
                For long hours in this hall.
KING                                              Alright, what proof
                Can you give us that has the seal of truth?
POL.        When he arrives, my daughter will come to him,
                And hidden behind that tapestry
                We will hear their words. I swear it;
                Hamlet is crazy for Ofelia’s love.
                I do not lie to you, condemn me if my
                Words are false o king.
QU.                                            There, he nears
                Thoughtful with an air of sadness.
POL.                                                        Let us depart,
                Sir.          (they depart cautiously. Hamlet approaches
                                             absorbed in a profound mediation)
HAM.         To be or not to be! That
                Is the question – To die? – to sleep – and then?…
                To end the anguishes of this sick and
                Filthy inheritance of flesh with a hibernation!…
                To die? – to sleep – and then?… To sleep – to
                Dream!!! Here cognition is demolished; and what
                Dreams escaped from this wretched life
                Will come to populate that fatal
                Eternity of sleep?… And here the human
                Mind is entangled! And from this comes doubt;
                The long patience of the unfortunate.
                Ah would that the rapid flash
                Of a dagger were enough
                To conceal our souls
                At the bottom of a coffin,
                Who would ever want to suffer
                The injuries of a tyrant,
                The disillusionments and rage,
                And betrayed fidelty?
                But phantasms of terror
                Arise from the grave.
                The black world never
                Lets its visitors return.
                It ties us to the miseries
                Of this mortal age
                Before throwing us to the evil
                That is yet unknown.
                                   (Ophelia enters
                       with a jewel case in her hands)
                Who comes? The young girl Ophelia.
OFE.                                                              Prince.
HAM.      (faking dementia)
                   Listen gentle girl – when the night
                      Stretches its dark – wing through the sky,
                      When you raise your prayer – to God
                      Prostrate at the feet – of the holy house,
                   Pray for the sad ones whose heart brought
                      Death to fierce passion – killed it
              Prostrate at the feet – of the holy house,
                                                                         Pray for me.
OFE.           My lord, for some time – I’ve had it in my heart
                      To return to you this memory of love, it is
                      Made of gold and silver it is worthy of a king,
                      But for my glances it lost its enchantment!
HAM.                                                      Pray for me.
OFE.           Take it, oh prince.
HAM.                                Whatever are you murmuring,
                      Pretty girl – with the shining eyes?
OFE.              If your heart is dead – if your faith is dead,
                      This pledge  – has lost its enchantment for me.
HAM.                                                      Pray for me.
                      But yet if it’s true, – that I loved you one day,
                      Pretty girl – with the shining eyes,
                      I will give you this advice – listen to it;
                      Cut your soft curls– from your head;
                                                                  Become a nun.
OFE.           Save him, o Lord – piteous, powerful,
                      Let the clouds disperse – from his sick mind,
                      Listen to the words – of a pure soul,
                      Listen to the prayer – of a sad girl.
HAM.                                                      Become a nun.
                      But if you have in your heart – to marry,
                      As a dowry I’ll give you this – resentful word;
                      Be pure, be chaste – my poor beauty,
                      But wicked calumny – I will tell you rebel.
                                                                  Become a nun.
                   Yes become a nun. – And if you must take
                   A husband, then marry a madman;
                   I warn you, because wise men know how
                   To discern what monsters wives are accustomed
                   To making of their husbands – become a nun.
                   Now I leave you, I leave you, no more words
                   On that which troubles my judgment. I swear
                   It, there will be no more marriages; those
                   That are already married,
                   All but one shall live…
OFE.        Save him, o Lord – piteous power,
                      Let the clouds disperse – from his sick mind.
HAM.            I will give you this advice – listen to it,
                      Cut from your head – your soft curls;
                      Become a nun – become a nun.
                                       (Ofelia goes away pensive and sad)
POL.           (re-entering)
                   Prince, I announce the arrival of the singers.
HAM.         Oh!
POL.              Truly they will come soon.
HAM.            Riding a little donkey
                         A little minstrel galloped along.
POL.              Lend your ear to my speech.
HAM.                                                     Old man,
                      You possess a great treasure.
POL.                                                        What oh prince?
HAM.            A daughter – fresh and gentle
                                Like the first violet – of April.
POL.              I was talking to you of the singers.
HAM.                                      Very well, welcome them
                      Courteously, and tell them that I order
                      For tonight a great tragedy,
                      For example: the horrible assassination
                      Of King Gonzaga.
POL.                                         Yes prince.                 (exits)
HAM.             The singers’ drama is the wicked story
                      Of my father’s killing: the king will
                      Be present. – I want to scrutinize the remote
                      Impressions of his heart within his eyes….
                      If he shudders… I will undertake the blow!
                                                                (he leaves quickly)


PARTE SECONDA.

SECOND PART.

Lights, lights, lights!

Lights, lights, lights!

La sala degli spettacoli, sontuosissimamente adorna, e da
splendidi candelabri illuminata. – Nel fondo un breve rialto
coperto di velluti ricchissimi e d’oro a foggia di palco
scenico; nessun altro arnamento vi sta sopra fuor d’una
seggiola ove potersi adagiare. – Da un lato il Trono Reale e
gli scranni dei grandi del Regno; dall’altro, altri posti pei
Cortigiani e per le Dame. – La sala è affollata.

Entrano il Re, la Regina, Polonio, Laerte, Ofelia, Amleto,
Orazio
e Marcello. – Squilli di trombe. – Marcia danese.

The Play Hall, sumptuously adorned, and, illuminated by
splendid candelabras.. – Upstage, a small riser covered with
very rich velvets and in the style of a stage; there is no other adornment except for a seat on which to lay down. – On one
side the Royal Throne and benches of the important people of
the Kingdom; on the other side, other posts for the Courtiers
and Ladies. – The hall is  crowded.

Enter the King, the Queen, Pol., Lae., Oph., Ham., Hor.
and Mar. – Trumpet blasts. – Danish March.

AML.       E son presti i cantor?                                        (a Polonio)
POL.                                       Attendon solo
                Il piacer vostro, o prence.
REG.                                             Amleto, siedi
                Da costo alla tua madre.
AML.                                           Una più forte
                Calamità costà m’attira.
POL.        (piano al Re)                 Udiste?
OFE.        Tacete… s’incomincia.
                (alcuni suonatori schierati davanti il rialzo con
                viole, lironi, chitarre, arpe incominciano un
                preludio)
AML.                                          Uf! Questo stile
                   Sa odor di muffa un miglio; a lungo andare
                   Ci annoierà,
OFE.                             Prence, corrivo siete
                   Al giudicar.
AML.                           Seguo l’usanza.
OFE.                                                    Or via
                   Date orecchio alla musica.
AML.                                                 Ciarlando
                   E celïando più l’arte s’apprezza.
                (I due cantori che fanno la parte di Re Gonzaga e
                di Regina Giovanna entrano sul palco scenico. –
                Un momento di silenzio)
GON.                       Vieni, compagna, un tiepido
                                   Orezzo verspertin
                                   Fa carolar le mammole
                                   Nel placido giardin.
                                Vieni, delizia cara
                                   Di questa vita amara,
                                   Sorreggi ancora gli ultimi
                                   Passi del mio cammin.
REG. (del dramma)
                                Perchè di malinconiche
                                   Fole t’annebbi il cor,
                                   Perchè ti crei fantasimi
                                   Di cruccio e di terror?
                                Ridono i fiori e canta
                                   L’augello in su la pianta,
                                   Volan scherzando i zefferi,
                                   E tu sospiri ognor?
AML. (mentre si canta, furtivamente e rapidissimamente a
                Ora.)
                (Fruga con occhio scrutator se al punto
                Giunti i cantori che tu sa’! l’arcano
                Sulla fronte del Re si disasconda….
                Caütamente anch’io gli sguardi fissi
                Terrò ne’ sguardi suoi.
ORA.                                        Prence, l’aiuto
                Vi dà l’amico.
AML.                                 Or ben, facciam le viste
                D’essere oziosi; a te m’arraccomando.)
                (ritorna presso Ofelia, e scherzando col suo
                Ventaglio fissa attentamente il Re)
GON.                       Già cala al fondo il tramite
                                   Della mia tarda età.
                                   Questa mia creta povera
                                   Forse doman morrà.
                                E tu vivrai; nel core
                                   Ti batterà l’amore,
                                   E inghirlandato il talamo
                                   Di nuovi fior sarà.
                                Addio… già cala il sole.
                                   Su quel guancial di viole
                                   Chiuder vorrei la languida
                                   Pupilla, e m’assopir….
                              (si adagia e s’addormenta. La Regina del
                Dramma esce dal palco scenico)
AML.       Vi garba, o madre, il dramma?
REG.                                                    È di soperchio
                Loquace la Regina.
RE                                       L’argomento
                Cosa non chiude che ferir ne possa?
AML.       Nessuna al mondo.
RE                                       E il titolo?
AML.                                                 La Trappola.
                      E il sorcio? o diamine!    (con piglio da pazzo)
                         Il sorcio ov’è?
                         Non la si scappola,
                          Il sorcio è il re.
                                               Viva la trappola!
                È un fatto occorso in Vienna, una facezia
                Di veleni, di stupri e di rapine.
                E che perciò? Gonzaga è quel che dorme,
                Giovanna è la Regina, e un Ser Luciano,
                Ch’è il fratello del Re, verrà fra breve.
OFE.        Prence valete quanto il coro.
AML.       (con un segno a Orazio e Marcello) Attenti…
           (entra Luciano lentamente e facendo una lunga
          Scena mimica prima d’avvicinarsi al re Gonzaga)

                 (Durante il soliloquio di Luciano, tutti gli
           spettatori del dramma parlano sommessamente a
                     seconda passioni da cui sono agitati)

RE           (Regina nel core – mi lacera il morso
                   D’un negro pensiero – d’un bieco rimorso.
                   Regina, m’aita – mi sento tremar.
                   Quel vecchio che dorme – non posso guardar.
                Quel veccio… nol’vedi? – orrenda figura!!
                   È un morto che spezza – la sua sepoltura…
                                                                  Mi sento paura.
REG.        Paura, o pusillo – di fatua fiamma
                Di vana chimera – che i sensi t’infiamma!
                                                            Paura d’un dramma!
RE              Non ridere, o donna – quel cheto giardino,
                   Quel vecchio dormente – quel torvo assassino
                   Che a passi di jena – si vede venir
                   M’agghiaccian le vene – son presso a morir…
REG.        Coraggio! di faci – risplendon le mura,
                   Discaccia la fola – che il cor ti tortura.
RE                                                             Mi sento paura.
                   Un foco d’inferno – le fauci m’infiamma,
                   Non posso gridare… m’investe una fiamma.
REG.                                                    Paura d’un dramma!
RE           Non ridere, o donna – pon mente… dal seno
                   Quel torvo omicida – ritragge un veleno.
                   Or ecco… s’appressa – s’appressa… gran Dio!
                   Quel torvo omicida – Regina, son io…)
AML.                          (Osserva, Orazio,
                                      Su quella fronte
                                      Non vedi un funebre
                                      Strano pallor?
                                   Son quelle, Orazio,     
                                      Le tetre impronte
                                      Dell’uccisor…
                                                        Vedo, signor.
AML.                          Osserva, Orazio,
                                      Livido e tetro
                                      Accenti mormora
                                      D’ira e terror;
                                      Dunque un miracolo
                                   Era lo spettro
                                   Del genitor…
ORA.                                            Vedo, signor.)
AML.                       (Domani esanime
                                   Cadraimi al piè.)
                                   La non si scappola,        (con violenta
                                   Il sorcio è il re…                     allegria)
                                                           Viva la Trappola.
OFE.                        Prence, silenzio,
                                   La vostra celia
                                   La queta musica
                                   Conturba ognor.
AML.                       Deh perdonatemi,
                                   Soäve Ofelia,
                                   Sereno ed ilare
                                   Mi sento il cor,
                   VECCHI spettatori, e POLONIO.
                                Oh ammirabile tragedia,
                                   Piena d’estro e di splendor!
GIOVANI     Questa musica ci tedia.
spettatori        Ci addormentano i cantor.
VEC.                        Quale incanto!  Bravi, bravi
                                   Viva l’arte de’ nostri avi!
GIOV. (deri-                Noi più grulli e men devoti
dendo)                         Vogliam l’arte dei nepoti.
VEC. (batten-              Viva l’arte de’ nostri avi.
do le mani)                                             Bravi, bravi!!
LUC. (dal palco scenico)
                L’ultimo sonno, o re Gonzaga, è questo
                Che dormi in terra; requierai fra poco
                Sonno più duro, e la virtù d’un filtro
                Viatico ti sarà per l’altro mondo.
                O re Gonzaga, buona notte.         (versa il velena nell’
                                                                orecchio di Gonzaga)
RE (spaventato)                               Orrore!!!
OFE.        S’alza il re…
RE                             Faci, faci!…
AML. (gridando e trattenendo il re) Eh! nulla, zio.
                È morto attossicato, e dal fratello
                Attossicato… orribil cosa… e’l spense
                Per rapirgli lo scettro e la consorte.
                È pura storia, il giuro… dunque presto
                Che il dramma si prosegua…
RE                                                       Basta, basta!…
                Faci, aita!…
REG.                        Che fai, folle?…
POL.                                                 Cessate!!
                E rimbombi la marcia trïonfale.
                Faci! il re si ritira!
               (i trombettieri ripigliano la marcia danese
                          confusamente e scomposta)
AML. (a Orazio)           Hai tu veduto?
                Egli è là! l’assassino! o mia vendetta
                Armati!!!
ORA.                         O mio signor, prudente siate.
AML.                         La non si scappola;
                                   Il sorcio è il re.
                                                          Viva la Trappola!
RE           Fuggiam lo spettro… faci… ajuto…
POL.                                                        Faci…           
                (Il Re fugge. I ciamberlani lo seguono.
                Confusione, spavento, disordine, stupore generale.
                Amleto ride)

HAM.      And the singers are ready?              (to Polonius)
POL.                                                They only await
                Your pleasure, o prince.
QUE.                                           Hamlet, sit
                Next to your mother.
HAM.                                    A stronger
                Magnet attracs me there.
POL.       (quietly to the King)        Did you hear?
OPH.       Quiet… it is beginning.
                (a few players take their place in front of the riser
                and with violas, lyres, guitars, and harps they
                begin a prelude)
HAM.                                     Ug! This style
                   Smells of mildew for a mile; before long they
                   Are going to bore us,
OPH.                             Prince, you are quick
                   To judge.
HAM.                        I follow the custom.
OPH.                                                      Away now
                   Give ear to the music.
HAM.                                         One appreciates art
                   Better by chattering and jesting.
                    (the two singers who perform the parts of King      
                Gonzaga and Queen Giovanna enter the stage. –
                                A moment of silence)
GON.                       Come, my companion, a tepid
                                   Evening wind
                                   Makes the violets dance
                                   In the placid garden.
                                Come, dear delight
                                   Continue to aid the
                                   Last steps of my walk
                                   Through this bitter life.
QU. (player)
                                Why do you cloud your heart
                                   With melancholy fairy tales,
                                   Why do you create phantasms
                                   Of resentment and terror?
                                The flowers laugh and the
                                   Birds sing up in the trees,
                                   the zephyrs fly about joking,
                                   and you always sigh?
HAM.  (while she sings, furtively and very quickly to
Horatio)
                  (Search with a scrutinizing eye whether when the
                  singers arrive at the point which you know, the
                  mystery is uncovered on the King’s brow…
                  Cautiously I also will fix my glances
                  On his.
HOR.                                                       Prince, a friend
                   Will help you.
HAM.                             Good now, let us pretend to be
                   Idlers; I urge you.)
                   (he returns near Ophelia, and playing with his
                   fan fixes attentively on the King)
GON.                       Already the passage of my
                                   Late age is nearing its end.
                                   This my poor clay
                                   May die tomorrow.
                                And you will live; love
                                   Beats in your heart,
                                   and your nuptual bed will be
                                   garlanded with new flowers.
                                Goodbye… the sun already sets.
                                   I would like to close my languid
                                   Eye, and lie down on this
                                   Pillow of violets…
                                (he lies down and sleeps. The player
                   Queen exits the stage)
HAM.         Do you like the drama, o mother?
QU.                                                               The Queen is
                   Excessively talkative.
KING                                         What is there within the
                   The plot that could offend us?
HAM.         Nothing in the world.
KING.                                      And the title?
HAM.                                                          The Trap.
                      And the mouse? O damn!              (with a crazy
                         Where is the mouse?                     expression)
                         He will not escape,
                         The mouse is the king.
                                                           Long live the trap!
                   It was an affair that happened in Vienna, a story
                   Of poison, rape, and robbery. And
                   What therefore? Gonzaga is the one sleeping,
                   Giovanna is the Queen, and a Sir Luciano,
                   who is the King’s brother, will come soon.
OPH.          Prince you are as good as a chorus.
HAM.         (with a signal to Horation and Marcellus) Wait…
        (enter Luciano slowly and does a long pantomime
                   scene before nearing King Gonzaga)

(During the soliloquy, all the spectators of the
drama speak softly and according to the passions
by which they are agitated)

KING          (Queen in my heart I am lacerated by the
                      Bite of a black thought, a sinister remorse.
                      Queen, help me I feel myself trembling.
                      I cannot watch that old man who sleeps.
                   That old man… don’t you see? horrible figure!!
                      He is a dead man who shatters his tomb…
                                                                          I feel fear.
QU.             Fear, o coward  of a silly flame
                   Of an empty chimera that inflames your senses!
                                                                   Fear of a play!
KING         Do not laugh, o woman that silent garden,
                   That sleeping old man that grim assassin
                   Who with hyena-like steps you see coming
                   They freeze my veins I am near death…
QU.          Courage! The walls glow with torches,
                   drive away the madness that tortures your heart.
KING                                                                 I feel fear.
                   The jaws of an infernal fire set me ablaze,
                   I cannot scream… a flame assaults me.
QU.                                                               Fear of a play!
KING       Do not laugh, o woman give thought… that
                   Grim murderer draws a poison from his breast.
                   And there… he nears he nears.. good God!
                   That grim murderer Queen, is me…)
HAM.                      (Observe, Horatio,
                                   On his brow
                                   Do you not see a funereal
                                   And strange pallor?
                                Those are, Horatio,                                   
                                   The dark signs
                                   Of a killer…
HOR.                                          I see, my lord.
AM.                         Observe, Horatio,
                                   Livid and gloomy
                                   He murmurs words
                                   Of fury and terror;
                                   therefore the specter
                                of my father
                                was a miracle…
HOR.                                              I see, my lord.)
HAM.                      (Tomorrow you will
                                   Fall lifeless at my feet.)
                                   He will not escape      (with violent joy)
                                   The mouse is the king…
                                                              Long live the Trap.
OPH.                       Prince, silence,
                                   Your jesting
                                   keeps disturbing
                                   The calm music.
HAM.                      Forgive me,
                                   Gentle Ophelia,
                                   My heart feels
                                   Serene and merry,
                   OLD spectators, and POLONIUS.
                                Oh admirable tragedy,
                                   full of inspiration and splendor!
YOUNG        This music bores us.
spectators       The singers are putting us to sleep.
OLD                 What enchantment! Bravi, bravi
                            Long live the art of our ancestors!
YOUNG (de-      We who are more capricious and less
riding)                   Devote want the art of their grandchildren.
OLD (batting        Long live the art of our ancestors!
their hands)                                                  Bravi, bravi!!
LUC. (from the stage)
                This sleep, o King Gonzaga, is the last
                That you will sleep on earth; you will rest soon
                In a harsher sleep, and the virtue of a potion will
                Be a viaticum for you in the next world.
                O King Gonzaga, good night.                (he pours the
                                                           poison in Gonzaga’s ear)
KING (frightened)                                    Horror!!!
OPH.       The king rises…
KING                             Lights, lights!…
HAM       (yelling and holding back the king) Nothing, uncle.
                He is dead by poison, and poisoned by
                His brother… a horrible thing… he killed him to
                Rob him of the crown and his wife.
                It is pure fiction, I swear it… therefore quickly
                Let the play proceed…
KING                                       Enough, enough!…
                Lights, help!…
QU.                              What are you doing, madman?…
POL.                                                                         Stop!!
                Let the triumphal march resound.
                Lights! The king withdraws!
       (the trumpeters confusedly and disconnectedly take
                          up the danish march again)
HAM.      (to Horatio)                          Did you see?
                It is he! The assassin! O my vengeance
                Arm yourself!!!
HOR.                       O my lord, be prudent.
HAM.                      He will not escape;
                                The mouse is the king.
                                                             Long live the Trap!
KING       Let us flee the ghost… lights… help…
POL.                                                               Lights…
                (The King flees. The chamberlans follow him.
                Confusion, fear, disorder, and general astonishment.
                Hamlet laughs)

Cala la tela.

FINE DELL’ATTO SECONDO.

The curtain falls.

END OF THE SECOND ACT .

 

ATTO TERZO

PARTE PRIMA.

THIRD ACT

FIRST PART.

How now! a rat?

How now! a rat?

Una stanza nel Castello; porta con cortinaggi.
Un inginocchiatoio; e un ritratto del Re appeso alla parete.

Il Re; poscia Amleto.

A Hall in the Castle; a door with enormous tapestries.
A prie-dieu; and a portrait of the King hung from the walls.

The King; then Hamlet.

RE           O nera colpa! orribilmente infitta
                Entro l’occhio dell’anima!  Perenne
                Immutabil ricordo! – E non fia mai
                Ch’io mi rimondi, o che dal core io scinda
                La nota del rimorso?… O spaventosa
                Coscienza mia, cui tanto leppo abbuja,
                Prega; la dolce orazïone è un fresco
                Lenimento al dolor… prega… e voi rudi
                Ginocchia vi piegate, e tu cuor duro
                Apriti a caritade, e tu mia lingua
                Tremante e balda, mormora una santa
                Preghiera a Dio per un poco di pace.
                (s’inginocchia – passa Amleto con un pugnale in
                mano)
AML.       (Ecco il momento… ei sta pregando… All’opra!…
                No; chè nel cielo il lancierei d’un colpo…
                Folle, e vendetta non avrei – Nel bujo
                Inferno io vo’ precipitarlo.  Andiamo.)         (esce)
RE           O Padre nostro – che sei nel cielo
                   Sii benedetteo – nel tuo splendor…
                   Pregan le labbra – ma son di gelo
                                                                   Anima e cor.
                Venga il tuo regno – e sulla terra
                   Si compia l’alta – tua volontà…
                   Ah! che un demonio – pel crin m’afferra.
                                                                   Pietà, pietà!
                Perdona al tristo – le sue peccata
                   Com’ei perdona – agli offensor…
                   Ciel! la mia morte – ho qui segnata.
                                                                  Pietà, Signor!
                Non ascoltarmi – e’ fu il demone
                   Che di mie labbra – gioco si fè.
                   Non ascoltarmi – quest’orazione
                                                      Non è per me.        (esce
                                                                              inorridito)
             Entrano Polonio, la Regina, poscia Amleto.
POL.       Qui l’attendete e con forti rampogne
                Quel bizzarro cervel dite che ammansi;
                Dite che il suo celiar già passa il segno,
                E che nol soffre il re.
REG.                                    N’andate, ei viene.   (Pol. esce)
AML.       Madre?
REG.                    Signor, grave un’offesa all’alta
                Maestà scagliaste.
AML.                                  Grave offesa, o madre,
                Al padre mio scagliaste.
REG.                                           Orsù, frenate
                La pazza lingua.
AML.                              E la lingua perversa
                Frenate voi.
REG.                          Tant’osi, Amleto! e dunque
                Chi mi sia tu obliasti?
AML.                                       Oh per lo cielo!
                Ben v’ho a mente regina, che la sposa
                Voi siete del fratel del padre mio,
                Ben v’ho a mente che madre a me voi siete.
                Togliessel Dio!!
REG.                                Principe!
AML.                                             Or via, tranquilla
                Dimorate e tacete, infin che tutta
                L’anima vostra in un immondo specchio
                Io v’addimostri… nè fuggir tentate.
REG.        Ciel! che? vuoi forse trucidarmi? Ajuto!…
                Ajuto!!…
POL. (dietro l’arazzo) Ajuto!… alla Regina!! Ajuto!…
AML.       Cos’è codesto? un topo… un topo… un topo…
                Scommetto ch’io l’infilzo.           (sguaina la spada e
                                                                    trapassa l’arazzo)
POL.                                              Oh Dio!…
REG.                                                             Che festi!
AML.       Nol so da senno! Oh… forse il re!!!
REG.        (Aml. corre a solleva l’arazzo)        Polonio!..
AML.       Morto. Messere, mal vi consigliaste
                Di torvi briga di soperchio; tale
                Dell’arti vostre è il frutto. Eh! non ciarlate?
                Voi che di ciance eravate maestro
                Eccovi tutto grullo e incamuffito!
REG.        Oh assassinio crudel!
AML.                                       Meno crudele
                Che d’uccidere un re, madre, per poscia
                Isposarne il fratello!
REG.                                      Oh tu vaneggi.
AML.       No, per mia fè, madre pudica, il vero
                Io parlo, e quella sozza e laida
                Voi siete.
REG.                       Amleto!
AML.                                  E alle incestuose coltri
                Voi vi gettaste col fratel, che porta
                Lo scettro di mio padre – Oh re fetente,
                Turpe assassino.
                                O re ladrone,               (quasi farnetico)
                                   Che rubi e insudici
                                   Troni e corone,
                                   Nascondi il tetro
                                   Baglior che pullula
                                   Dal regio scettro,
                                   O re ladrone!
REG.                           Cessa, pietà!
AML.                          Ah! ah! ah! ah!         (sghignazzando)

                                Re babbuino!
                                   T’indraca in sordide
                                   Orgie e nel vino,
                                   Poi colla sposa
                                   Corri alla coltrice
                                   Lussurïosa,
                                   Re babbuino!
REG.                           Figlio, pietà!
AML.                          Ah! ah! ah! ah!

                                Re pulcinella!
                                   L’hai fatta orribile
                                   La gherminella,
                                   Ma in verità
                                   Che qualche diavolo
                                   Ti pagherà;
                                   Re pulcinella!
(sghignazzando)          Ah! ah! ah!       (apparisce lo spettro)
                (Aml. dà un grido di spavento) Ah!
SPET.        Figliuol, dal cieco furiar rimanti,
                      Smetti le vôte grida, e in mezzo al core
                      Nudri il pensier che de’ trarreti avanti.
                   Io vegno a te per drizzarti l’ardore
                      A retto segno, e innovarti il proposto
                      Che ti chiama di me vendicatore.
                   Non disviar da quel sentier che posto
                      Ti se’ per guida, ed allenta il desio
                      Quando il reo sangue avrà pagato il costo.
                   Prega per me che mi perdoni Iddio.
AML.             Celesti spirti! O lugubre
                                Spettro del padre morto,
                                Perdon se in vana furia
                                M’ebbi un istante assorto.
                                Alla tua vista un igneo
                                Pensiero mi divampa,
                                E di terribil vampa
                                Sento affocarmi il cor.
REG.              Figlio deliri; orribile
                                Pazzia t’invade l’alma,
                                Deh torna ai queti, ai teneri
                                Dì della dolce calma.
                                Irti i capelli, e pallido,
                                E gli occhi spalancati,
                                Dimmi, che spettro guati
                                Che t’empie di terror?
AML.             Colà, colà, quel morto
                                Ch’è dall’avel risorto
                                Non scerni, o madre?
                                                           (lo spettro s’allontana)
REG.                                                        Io no.
AML.             Nol vedi? in sepoltura
                                Ei serba l’armatura
                                Che vivo egli portò.
                      Or ei dispare…
REG.                                   Oh vano!..
AML.                       Laggiù lontan, lontano….
                                Già tutto ei dileguò….
                Or madre addio….
                (esce)

REG.        Ah! che alfine all’empio scherno
                Mi ribello, o snaturato!
                La pietà del cor materno,
                Falso pazzo, hai cancellato.

                Fingi pur deliri e spasimi;
                Io non simulo il furor:
                Bada a te, d’ombre e fantasmi
                O bugiardo evocator!…

                Ahi! che dissi? Io rea, che il padre
                Spensi al figlio e tolsi il trono,
                Non son madre, ah non son madre!…
                Vien, m’uccidi, io ti perdono.

                Di regina e di consorte
                Profanato ho i nomi, il so:
                Corri, Amleto, e dammi morte;
                Madre almeno io morirò.
                                                                                        (esce.)

KING      O black guilt! Horribly inflicted
                Withing the soul’s eye! Eternal
                Immutable remembrance! – Will it never be
                That I am purged, or that the note of remorse
                Is cleaved from my heart?… O my horrible
                Conscience, which the fetid odor darkens so,
                Pray; the sweet prayer is a cool
                Balm for pain… pray… and bend you
                Coarse knee, and you hard heart
                Open yourself to charity, and you my tongue
                Trembling and proud, murmur a sacred
                Prayer to God for a little bit of peace.
                (he kneels – Hamlet passes by with a kinfe in his
                hand)
HAM.      (Here is the moment… he is praying… to action!…
                No; that would throw him to heaven in one blow…
                Madness, and I would not have vengeance. I want
                To hurl him into the dark inferno. Let’s go.)(exits)
KING       Our father – who art in heaven
                   Blessed be – in your splendor…
                   My lips pray – but my soul and heart
                                                                        Are of ice.
                Thy Kingdom come – and on earth
                   May your sublime will – be done…
                   Ah! A demon – seizes me by the hair.
                                                                          Pity, pity!
                Forgive their – wicked sins
                   As he forgives – the offendor…
                   Heavens! I have signalled – here my death.
                                                                         Pity, Lord!
                Do not listen to me – it was a demon
                   That from my lips – played a game.
                   Do not listen to me – this prayer
                                                       Is not for me.           (exits
                                                                                 horrified)
            Enter Polonius, the Queen, then Hamlet.
POL.       Wait here, and with strong reproaches tell that
                Bizarre philosopher to calm himself;
                Tell him that his joke has already gone too far,
                And that the king suffers from it.
QU.                                          Go, he comes.      (Pol. exits)
HAM.      Mother?
QU.                      My Lord, you have hurled a grave offense
                To his noble Majesty.
HAM.                                         A grave offense, o mother,
                You have hurled at my father.
QU.                                                      Come now, check
                Your crazy tongue.
HAM.                                  And you check your
                Perverse tongue.
QU.                                  You dare too much, Hamlet!
                And have you therefore forgotten who I am?
HAM.                                                         Oh by heaven!
                I have it well in mind queen, that you are
                The wife of my father’s brother,
                I have it well in mind that you are my mother.
                Would that God removed it!!  
QU.                                                     Prince!
HAM.                                                        Away now,            
                Remain ranquil and quiet, until I
                Can show you your whole soul in an
                Unclean mirror… neither attempt to flee.
QU.          Heavens! What? Do you want to kill me? Help!…
                Help!!…
POL. (behind the tapestry) Help!… the Queen!! Help!…
HAM.      What is this? A mouse.. a mouse… a mouse…
                I’ll bet that I can run him through.          (draws his
                                                sword and stabs the tapestry)
POL.                                              Oh God!…
QU.                                                    What have you done!
HAM.      I don’t know! Oh.. maybe it’s the king!!!
QU.          (Ham. runs to the tapestry, raises it) Polonius!…
HAM.      Dead. Sir, you were poorly counseled on this
                Grim and excessive scheme; such is the
                Fruit of your arts. Eh! You don’t chatter?
                You who were the master of gossip
                Here you are all foolish and cheated!
QU.          Oh cruel assassin!
HAM.                                   Less cruel than
                Killing a king, mother, to then
                Marry his brother!
QU.                                     Oh you rave.
HAM.      No, by my faith, chaste mother, I speak
                The truth, and the filthy and obscene one
                Is you.
QU.                   Hamlet!
HAM.                          And you threw yourself between the
                Incestuous sheets with the brother, of he who
                Wears my father’s crown – Oh abominable king,
                Foul assassin.
                                O thief king,              (almost delirious)
                                   You who rob and soil
                                   Thrones and crowns,
                                   You hide the dismal
                                   Glow that swarms
                                   From the royal scepter,
                                   O thief king!
QU.                             Cease, pity!
HAM.                         Ah! ah! ah! ah!            (guffawing)

                                O baboon king!
                                   You are rendered monstrous in
                                   Sordid orgies and in wine,
                                   Then with your wife
                                   You run to your lustful
                                   Mattress,
                                   Baboon king!
QU.                            My son, pity!
HAM.                         Ah! ah! ah! ah!

                                Foolish king!
                                   You have played
                                   A horrible trick,
                                   But in truth
                                   Perhaps some devil
                                   Will repay you;
                                   Foolish king!
(guffawing)                  Ah! ah! ah!           (the ghost appears)
                (Ham. gives a cry of fear) Ah!
GH.         My son, stop this blind infuriation,
                   Stop the empty cries, and in your heart
                   Nourish the thought that must pull you ahead.
                I come to you to straighten your fervor
                   Onto the right track, and to renew the proposal
                   That calls you my avenger. Do not go astray
                From this path where you have set yourself as
                  A guide, and your desire will attenuate
                   When the guilty king has payed the price.
                Pray for me that God may forgive me.
HAM.         Celestial spirits! O lugubrious
                      Specter of my dead father,
                      Forgive me if in useless fury
                      I had been absorbed for a moment.
                      At the sight of you a fiery
                      Thought enflammed me,
                      And I felt my heart set afire
                      By a terrible blaze.
QU.             You are delirious son; a horrible
                      Madness has invaded your soul,
                      Please return to the peaceful and tender
                      Days of sweet calm.
                      Your hair is shaggy and pallid,
                      And you are wild-eyed,
                      Tell me, what fearful ghost
                      Fills you with terror?
HAM.         There, there that dead man
                      That has risen again from the grave
                      Don’t you see, o mother?
                                                           (the ghost goes off)
QU.                                                     I see nothing.
HAM.         Don’t you see him? In death
                      He wears the armor
                      That he wore in life.
                   Now he disappears…
QU.                                          Oh useless!…
HAM.            Down there, far away, far away…
                      Already he has completely vanished…
                Now mother goodby…
                (exits)

QU.         Ah! that I finally revolt against
                Wicked mockery, oh inhuman!
                Mad deceit, you have obliterated.                  
                The pity of a maternal heart,
                     
                You feign delirium and spasms;
                Yet I do not fake rage:
                Be warned, o evocative liar
                Of shadows and phantoms.

                Ah! What have I said? I am the guilty one, who
                Has killed my son’s father and taken the throne,
                I am not a mother, ah I am not a mother!…
                Come, kill me, I will forgive you.

                I have profaned the names
                Of queen and wife, I know it:
                Run, Hamlet, and give me death;
                At least I will die as a mother.
                                                                               (exits.)

PARTE SECONDA.

SECOND PART.

Hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny.

Hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny.

Luogo romito del parco d’Elsinora. Nell’estremo fondo a
sinistra s’erge un fianco del castello. 
Alte macchie di pini e
d’abeti sparse qua e là. A mezzo della scena scorre un
ruscello, alle cui sponde sinuose s’assiepano cespugli di
fiori. Un salice piangente bagna i suoi rami nell’onda. 
L’ora è il tramonto. Una luce calda indora il paesaggio.

Il RE, seguito dai Soldati, percorre smarrito la scena, come
per cercare un rifugio. LAERTE e OFELIA: strepito di
rivolta nel lontano.

A solitary place in Elsinore park..  Far upstage left a side of
the castle is erected.  High thickets of pine and fir trees
spread here and there.  A brook runs through the middle of
the scene, to which winding banks are enclosed by flower
hedges. A weeping willow bathes its brances in the waves. It
is sunset.
A warm light gilds the landscape.

The King, followed by Soldiers;  runs into the scene
bewildered, as if searching for refuge.  Laertes and Ophelia:
noises of rebellion in the distance.

GRIDA LONTANE                
                Morte al Re!  Morte al Re!
RE (ai Soldati)
                                                        Guardie! le mura
                Del castel custodite, a ferro e foco
                Sterminate i rubelli.
                              (Le Guardie partono.)
GRIDA                            Morte!  Morte!
ALTRE GRIDA
                Laerte è nostro re.
GRIDA (più vicine)
                                             Viva Laerte!
RE           Fuggiam… la folla irrompe…
LAE.                                                      Ove s’appiatta
                Codesto Re? – Compagni, e voi sostate,
                E niun mi segua. – E tu mi rendi il padre!!
RE           Pace, Laerte, pace…
LAE.                                     Ov’è mio padre?…
RE           Morto.  Ma non da me, morto.
LAE.                                                     E chi dunque,
                E chi dunque l’uccise?  Ah! per Satàna!
                Vendetta io vo’ del padre mio!!
UNA VOCE DI DENTRO
                                                              Sgombrate
                Il passo a lei.
LAE                            Chi giunge?… Ofelia!  Ofelia!
    (Ofelia pazza, ornata stranamente di fiori, e col grembiale
                pieno d’erbe e di pianticelle, cantando)

OFE.                        La bara involta
                                D’un drappo nero
                                Move alla volta
                                Del cimitero.
                                Zitto! chi passa,
                                Chetate l’orme,
                                Chè in quella cassa
                                V’ha un che dorme.
                                Ma voi di riso
                                Pingete il viso
                                E di pietà.
                                E dite a questa
                                Giovin mesta:
                                “Chi è nella cassa,
                                Per un che passa,
                                Non s’alzerà.
                                È un sonno forte
                                Quel della morte!”

                Ma quando sarem giunti al camposanto
                E che ci avran levato il bruno manto,
                E che l’avran calato nella fossa,
                Tutta cosparsa di fioretti e d’ossa,
                M’assetterò tranquilla a lui vicino,
                Per piantar sulla fossa il mio giardino.
                E là… su quei capelli bianchi e lustri
                Ci metterò un boschetto di ligustri;
                Sugli occhi tanto azzurri e tanto belli
                Seminerò due grani di napelli…
                E sui denti d’avorio, un bianco fiore
                Di giglio… e qui dove gli batte il core…
                Vo’ posare una rossa pianticina
                Di quel bel fior che chiaman vedovina;
                E là…, sul petto dov’ha la ferita,
                Vo’ che nasca una triste margherita,
                Mista a un po’ di pervinca e di genziana,
                Che è un’erba per le piaghe tanto sana…
                E quando avrò di fior cosparso l’orto,
                Vo’ inginocchiarmi e dire un requie al morto.
LAE.        Sventura orrenda!  Ofelia mia gentile,
                Dolce sorella,… io vo’ pagare a sangue
                La tua demenza.  Udisti, Re?
RE                                                      Fu Amleto,
                Che trafisse tuo padre.
LAE.                                        Oh! per lo cielo!
                Fu Amleto! E dov’è Amleto?
RE                                                     Ebben, mi segui.
(Partono il Re e Laerte.)

OFE. (sola)
       (I tumulti lontani svaniscono e si spande il silenzio del
     tramonto.  Ofelia, errando mestamente verso il ruscello:)

                Amleto!  Amleto! chi parlò d’Amleto?
                La brezza è quella – che cantò quel nome.
                O come, o come – tutto io mi rammento…!
                Ei mi dicea: “Va! fatti monachella!…
                  (origliando verso il salice piangente)
                                Ahimè! chi piange? è il salice,
                                Che piange, e piange tanto
                                Che l’acqua del suo pianto
                                Formò questo ruscel.
                                Bello alberel dolente,
                                La vergine piangente
                                Ti chiamerà fratel.

                                E i rami tuoi (patetica
                                Di due dolor catena)
                                Alla mia franta lena
                                Saran blando guancial,
                                Mentre con pio lamento
                                Verrà a cullarmi il vento
                                Dal cielo orïental!…
���������������

DISTANT YELLS
                   Death to the King! Death to the King!
KING (to the Soldiers)
                                                               Guards! Guard the
                   Walls of the castle, wipe out the rebels
                   With iron and fire.
                                (The Guards exit.)
YELLS                                Death! Death!
OTHER YELLS
                   Laertes is our king.
YELLS (nearer)
                                               Long live Laertes!
KING          Let us flee… the crowd bursts in…
LAE.                                                    Where has this King
                   Hidden himself? – Companions, stop,
                   May no one follow me. – Render my father!!
KING          Peace, Laertes, peace…
LAE.                                            Where is my father?…
KING          Dead. But not dead by my hand.
LAE.                                                         And who then,
                   And who then killed him? Ah! By the devil!
                   I want vengeance for my father!!
A VOICE FROM INSIDE
                                                                     Clear the
                   Way for her.
LAE.                              Who comes?… Ofelia! Ofelia!
    (Ofelia crazy, strangely adorned with flowers, and with an
               apron full of herbs and little plants, singing)

OPH.                       The coffin wrapped
                                With a black cloth
                                Moves to the vault
                                Of the cemetery.
                                Quiet! Whoever passes,
                                Silence your footsteps
                                Because in that coffin
                                There is one who sleeps.
                                But paint your face
                                With laughter
                                And with pity.
                                And say to this
                                Sad young girl:
                                “Whoever is in the coffin,
                                Will not rise
                                For whoever passes by.
                                The sleep of death
                                Is a heavy one!”

                But when we arrive at the cemetery
                And they have taken off the dark cloak,
                And lowered it into the grave,
                All sprinkled with little flowers and bones,
                I will sit down tranquilly near him,
                To plant my garden on his grave.
                And there… on that white and shiny hair
                I will put a little forest of privets;
                On his eyes so blue and beautiful
                I will sow two grains of monkshood…
                And on his ivory teeth, a white lily
                Flower… and here where his heart beats…
                I will put a little red plant of that
                Beautiful flower called the widow; and
                There…, on his chest where he has a wound,
                I want a sad marguerite to be born,
                Mixed with a little bit of periwinkle and gentian,
                Which is a very healthy herb for sores… and
                When I have sprinkled the garden with flowers,
                I will kneel and say a requiem for the dead.
LAE.        Horrible misfortune! My gentle Ophelia,
                Sweet sister,… I will repay your dementia
                With blood. Do you hear, King?
KING                                                       It was Hamlet,
                Who killed your father.
LAE.                                        Oh! By heavens!
                It was Hamlet! And where is Hamlet?
KING                                                             Follow me.
                          (The King and Laertes exit.)

OPH. (alone)
    (The far away uproar disappears and the silence of sunset       expands. Ophelia, wandering sadly towards the brook:)

                Hamlet! Hamlet! Who spoke of Hamlet?
                It is the breeze – that sang that name.
                O how, o how, – I remember everything…!
                He said to me: “Go! Become a nun!…
                        (towards the weeping willow)
                                Alas! Who weeps? It is the willow,
                                That weeps, and it weeps so much
                                That the water from its tears
                                Formed this brook.
                                Beautiful doleful tree,
                                The weeping virgin
                                Will call you brother.

                                And your branches (enchained
                                By two pathetic sorrows)
                                Will be gentle pillows
                                At my broken breath,
                                While the wind will come from the
                                Oriental sky to rock me
                                With a pious lament!…

Ofelia, cantando, va verso il salice, penetra fra i cespugli e
canneto e svanisce tra le fronde. Poco dopo il suo corpo,
circondato da fiori, galleggia sull’acque.
Aurora lunare.

Cala la tela.

FINE DELL’ATTO TERZO.

Ophelia, singing, goes towards the willow, enters between
the bushes and reeds and vanishes among its branches.
Shortly after her body, floats in the water, surrounded
by flowers. Moonlight.

The curtain falls.

END OF THE THIRD ACT.

ATTO QUARTO

PARTE PRIMA.

FOURTH ACT

FIRST PART.

Alas, poor Yorick!
Alas, poor Yorick!

Un cimitero.  È notte scura.

Due Becchini scavano una fossa e cantano.
Poi Amleto e Orazio.

A cemetery.  It is dark night..

Two Gravediggers dig a grave and sing.
Then Hamlet and Horatio.

I. BEC.     Oggi a me, domani a te;
                                   Oggi a te, domani al re;
                                   Oggi al re, domani a me.
                                   Là è faceta per mia fè!
AML.       Cantano e van scavando!
ORA.                                             Al lor lavoro
                Assiduo costume i fè di pietra.
I. BEC. (al secondo che esce)
                Compare, ho sete, portamene un gotto          (getta
                Costì dall’oste.                                        un cranio)
AML.                                       Or ve’ a che grullo modo
                È ridotto quel cranio! e’ si potrebbe
                Giocar con esso al giuoco del palèo…
I. BEC. (cantarellando)
                                Oggi a me, domani a te;
                                Oggi a te, domani al re;
                                Oggi al re, domani a me.
                                Là è faceta per mia fè!
AML.       Di’, dabben uomo, e se’ tu da molt’anni
                Qui sepoltore?
BEC.                                Da quel dì che nacque
                Amleto, il prence che ha il cervello a’ grilli.
AML.       Tu se’ un furbo compar.
BEC.                                            Ma non più furbo
                Di quel ch’or fa’ vent’anni avea per capo
                Questo putrido teschio.       (scava un altro cranio)
AML.                                          E chi era desso?
BEC.        Malan venga al briccone! un dì versommi
                Entro la nuca un caraffon di Reno.
                Questi era, o bel messer, Yorick, giullare
                Del re.
AML.                  Codesto?
BEC.                                   Per l’appunto.
AML. (prende in mano il cranio d’Yorick) Ahimè!
                Povero Yorick! mel rammento io pure,
                Giovial collega e mattamente gajo,
                Pien di briose fantasie. Soventi
                Ei mi potava a spalle… (Orazio, vedi,
                Su quest’ossa venian due liete labbra
                Ch’io baciai tante volte.)  Ahi! leziose
                Istorielle e canzoni e motti e beffe,
                Allegrie della mensa, ove n’andaste?
                Muta, chiusa in eterno è questa bocca!…
                (getta con ribrezzo il cranio)
                E manda orrendo leppo. – Oh qual bagliore!
BEC.        Un funerale.
AML.                         Orazio, io non m’inganno.
               Quello è il real corteo. N’andiamo in parte
               Ove non luca delle faci il raggio. (s’allontanano)
               (s’avanza lentamente la bara d’Ofelia. Laerte, il Re,
               la Regina, un Sacerdote, popolo, cortigiani, soldati
               con ceri accesi. Un mormorio sordo come di folla
               che preghi.)
LAE. (s’avvicina alla bara)
                Preghiam per la morta che dorma tranquilla,
                   Che in pace riposi la chiusa pupilla,
                   Preghiam per la morta che jeri vivea.
SAC., POPOLO                    Oremus pro ea.
BEC. (sogghignando, sotto voce) Cacciamola giù!
                                              Mors tua, vita mea.
                                                  Gli è un gotto di più.
REG. (s’avvicina alla bara dopo Laerte)
                Serena, ridente, ripiena d’amore,
                   Correva per l’erbe, coglieva ogni fiore;
                   Preghiam per la morta che Iddio ci togliea.
SAC., POPOLO                      Oremus pro ea.
BEC. (come sopra)                      Cacciamola giù!
                                                 Mors tua, vita mea.
                                                   Gli è un gotto di più.
RE (s’avvicina alla bara dopo la regina)
                Ahi povera Ofelia, sì buona sì bella!
                   In terra pareva celeste facella;
                   Nel mondo de’ santi or santa si bea.
SAC., POPOLO                           Oremus pro ea.
BEC. (c.s.)                                        Cacciamola giù!
                                                      Mors tua, vita mea.
                                                         Gli è un gotto di più.
LAE (sulla fossa in tuono di maledizione)
                   Che Iddio scaraventi l’ardente saëtta
                      Sull’alma tre volte da me maledetta
                      Del principe Amleto… (movimento d’orrore)
AML. (scagliandosi)                     Sciagurato! in gola
                      Ricaccia i tuoi delirii…
RE e REG.                                       Amleto!
LAE.                                                        Amleto!!
                   Che ti porti Satàna…
AML.                                       Ah! manigoldi!
   (incomincia una lotta corpo a corpo fra Amleto e Laerte)
RE              Separateli, guardie!!
AML.                                         In quella buca
                   Vo’ gittarti strozzato!
REG.                                          Amleto!
LAE.                                                       Infame!
ORA. (ad Amleto)
                   Pace, pace, signor.
AML.                                      No, per l’inferno!
REG.           E che dimon t’accende?
AML.                                              Io quella morta
                   Amai più che l’amor di mille e mille
                   Fratelli insiem!
REG.                                Egli vaneggia! è febbre
                   Codesta in lui.
RE                                     T’acqueta o buon Laerte;
                   A pazientar ti valga il divisato
                   Nostro disegno della scorsa notte.
                   N’andiam, Regina – si sorvegli Amleto.
                                                   (escono tutti confusamente)

I. GRAVE-D             Me today, you tomorrow;
                                   You today, tomorrow the king;
                                   The king today, tomorrow me.
                                   This is humorous by my faith!
HAM.      He goes about singing and digging!
HOR.                                             Custom makes them
                Impervious to their assiduous work.
I. GR. (to the second gravedigger who exits)
                Friend, I am thirsty, bring me a drink         (throws
                From that inn…                                         a skull)
HAM.                            Now see to what foolish state
                This skull is reduced! One could play with
                It like a top…
I. GR.       (humming)
                                Me today, you tomorrow;
                                   You today, tomorrow the king;
                                   The king today, tomorrow me.
                                   This is humorous by my faith!
HAM.      Tell me, honest man, have you been a gravedigger
                Here for many years?
GR.                                         From that day when was born
                Hamlet, the prince who’s head is full of nonsense.
HAM.      You are a sly one friend.
GR.                                        But not more sly than that one
                Who twenty years ago had for a head
                This rotten skull.                 (digs up another skull)
HAM.                                          And who was it?
GR.          May misfortune come to the rascal! One day he
                Poured a large decanter of Rhenish wine on my
                Head. This was, my good sir, Yorick, the king’s
                Jester.
HAM.                He?
GR.                          Exactly.
HAM.      (takes Yorick’s skull in hand) Alas!
                Poor Yorick! I remember him well,
                Jolly colleague and madly cheerful,
                Full of lively caprices. Often
                He carried me on his shoulders… See, Horatio,
                On these bones were two happy lips
                That I kissed many times. Ah! Affected
                Stories and songs and words and jokes,
                The pleasures of the table, where have you gone?
                Mute, this mouth is closed in eternity!…
                (throws the skull with digust)
                And it sends a horrible stench. – Oh what a glow!
GR.          A funeral.
HAM.                        Horatio, I am not deceived.
               That is the royal procession. Let us go to the part
               Where the light torches don’t shine. (they withdraw)
               (Ofelia’s coffin slowly advances. Laertes, the King,
               the Queen, a Priest, people, courtiers, soldiers with
               lit candles. A muffled murmur as if from a praying
               crowd.)
LAE.   (approaches the coffin)
                 Let us pray for the dead girl that sleeps tranquilly,
                   And who in peace rests her closed eye, let
                   Us pray for the dead girl who lived yesterday.
PRIEST, PEOPLE                          Let us pray for her.
GR. (sneering, sotto voce)            Let’s throw her down there!
                                                       Your death, my life.
                                                    There is a better glass.
QU.         (approaches the coffin after Laertes)
                Serene, smiling, full of love,
                   She ran through the grass, picked every flower;
                   Let us pray for the dead girl that God has taken.
PR. PEO.                                 Let us pray for her.
GR. (as above)                            Let’s throw her down there!
                                                 Your death, my life.
                                                    There is a better glass.
KING       (approaches the coffin after the queen)
                Ah poor Ophelia, so good and so beautiful!
                   On earth she seemed a celestial light
                   In the world of the saints she is now sainted.
PR. PEO.                                 Let us pray for her.
GR. (as above)                            Let’s throw her down there!
                                                Your death, my life.
                                                   There is a better glass.
LAE. (on the grave in a cursing thunder)
                May God hurl a burning thunderbolt
                   On the soul of prince Hamlet, thrice
                   Cursed by me… (movement of horror)
HAM.      (hurling himself)                  Wretch! Drive back
                   Your delirium back into your throat…
KING and QU.                                      Hamlet!
LAE.                                                                  Hamlet!!
                   May Satan carry you off…
HAM.                                                      Ah! Scoundrel!
   (Hand to hand combat begins between Hamlet and Laertes)
KING          Separate them, guards!!
HAM.                                              I will throw you strangle
                   Into that hole!
QU.                                  Hamlet!
LAE.                                            Vile!
HOR.       (to Hamlet)
                   Peace, peace, my lord.
HAM.                                           No, by the inferno!
QUE.          What demon ignites you?
HAM.                                               I loved that dead girl
                   More than the love of thousands and thousands
                   Of brothers together!
QU.                                            He raves! It is a
                   Fever in him.
KING                            Calm yourself good Laertes;
                   May our plan from last night
                   Be good for your patience.
                   Let us go, Queen – keep an eye on Hamlet.
                                                            (all exit confusedly)

PARTE SECONDA.

SECOND PART.

                                         HAM. Come on sir.
                                         LAER.                Come on sir.
                                         HAM.                                 One.
                                         LAER.                                      No.
                                         HAM.                                          Judgment.

                                         HAM. Come on sir.
                                         LAER.                Come on sir.
                                         HAM.                                 One.
                                         LAER.                                      No.
                                         HAM.                                          Judgment.

Sala d’armi, un trono nel mezzo.

Entra una folla di Cavalieri e di Dame al suono d’una fanfara. 
Un Araldo, poscia il Re e la Regina in gran pompa, Amleto,
Laerte
e Orazio.

Hall of arms, a throne in the middle..

Enter a crowd of Knights and Laides at the sound of a
fanfare. A Herald, then the King and the Queen in great
pomp, Hamlet, Laertes and Horatio.

ARAL.     Illustri cortigiani e cavalieri
                Del magno nostro Re; qui vi convenne
                L’eccelsa mäestade a portentoso
                Spettacol d’arme. Il prence Amleto e il prode
                Cavaliero Laerte a finta sfida
                Dal re chiamati in nobil lizza, il ferro
                Del fioretto trarran, e chi tre fiate
                Toccherà l’avversaro avrà trionfo.
                (s’avanza il corteo, ecc., ecc.)
TUTTI                       Gloria al monarca
                                      Di Danimarca
                                      Nostro signor.
                                   Un popol lieto
                                      A te riverte
                                      Le palme e il cor.
                                   Gloria ad Amleto.
                                      Gloria a Laerte!
RE           (Il fioretto è attoscato?            (sottovoce a Laerte)
LAE.                                         Una sol volta
                Ch’io punga il prence ch’egli è morto.)
RE                                                                  Amleto!
                La tua congiungo alla man di Laerte.
AML.       V’offesi, cavalier, e umilemente                          (a Laerte)
                Perdon vi chieggo. Qui non v’ha persona
                Che ignori la demenza ond’io fui côlto
                Per lungo spazio; e se scagliai la vana
                Parola o l’atto contro voi, signore,
                Era follia di travïato senso.
LAE.        Sia pace o prence.
RE (all’Araldo)                    Ebben, date i fioretti.
AML.       “La mia fiacchezza sarà vostro scudo,
                “Laerte.
LAE.                     “O mio signor, dell’avversaro
                “Voi vi gabbate.
AML.                               “Oh no, parlo da senno.
LAE.        “Greve troppo è codesto.     (provando un fioretto)
AML.                                           “E a me s’attaglia
                “Ottimamente.
LAE.                        “Vo’ pigliarne un altro.           (ne sceglie
                                                              uno senza cuscinetto)
AML.       E son essi i fioretti in egual modo
                Lunghi?
ARA.                   Sì, prence.
AML. (per mettersi in guardia) Dunque a noi, Laerte.
RE           S’empian le coppe di prezioso vino,
                E ad ogni botta che il principe scagli,
                Tuonin trombe, tamburi, e dalle mura
                Rispondano i cannoni… Alla salute
                D’Amleto io bevo… e voi giudici, accorti
                Attendete al duello.
AML.                                   In guardia!
LAE.                                                    In guardia!
AML.       Toccato.
LAE.                     No.
AML.                          Decidasi.
ORA.                                        Per fermo,
                Quest’è una botta.
RE                                       Evviva Amleto!!
TUTTI                                                          Evviva!
                (fanfara e colpi di cannone)
                                Gloria al monarca
                                   Di Danimarca
                                   Nostro signor.
RE (prende in mano la coppa)
                La coppa è colma – il Ren scintilla
                   Come i baleni – d’una pupilla.
                   Vedi, le labbra – pur io disseto.
                                                   Su bevi, Amleto         (Am-
                                              leto e Laerte ripigliano il duello)
                   Già di sudore – tu se’ grondante;
                   Vieni, una tazza – ti sta davante;
                   Non fia che il dolce – libar ti grevi.
                                                   Su, Amleto, bevi.
REG. (mormorandogli nell’orecchio)
                 (Taci, Satàna – entro quel Reno
                 Sai che mortale – nuota un veleno.
                   L’orrida coppa – mostro, allontana;
                                                   Taci, Satàna!)
AML. (sempre combattendo)
                Berrò più tardi… vo’ finir l’assalto.
                Para questa.
LAE.                          È parata…
AML.                                       E questa…
ORA.                                                        È tocco.
LAE.        Sì, lo confesso.
AML.                             E due.
RE                                           Vincerà Amleto.
TUTTI                    Gloria al monarca              (fanfara e colpi
                                   Di Danimarca                      di cannone)
                                   Nostro signor.
RE           Vieni, cugino, un sorso, un sorso…
REG.                                                        Il nappo
                A me!…
RE.                         Regina arresta… egli è veleno.   (la regina
           sviene ed è trasportata altrove: il duello si riaccende)
LAE.       E questa a te. (ferisce Amleto; questi sentendosi fe-
                rito disarma Laerte, scambia con esso il fioretto e
                lo ferisce)
AML.                      Ciel!!!
RE                                 Guardie! sanguinosi,
                Furenti son; li dividete.
AML.                                          Indietro.         (Laerte cade)
LAE.        Nella mia insidia io caddi… avvelenata
                Era la spada!…
AML.                             Orror!… E la Regina?!
RE           Alla vista del sangue è tramortita.             (tremante)
LAE.        Tu pur morrai, mio prence… Ah! mi perdona.
                L’infame è il re…. la coppa era un veleno
                Dal re…. versato….                                  (muore)
AML.                                     Oh ciel! mia madre il bevve!
                Muori assassino!!     (uccide il re, che cade dietro il
VOCI                                Aiuto! tradimento!…           trono)
ALTRE GRIDA Ah! tradimento!…
AML. (sostenuto da Orazio)          Ed or t’aspetto o morte!

HERALD Illustrious courtiers and knights
                Of our magnanimous King; His great majesty
                Welcomes you here to a marvellous spectacle
                Of arms. Prince Hamlet and the proud
                Cavalier Laertes called by the king to a noble
                Competition of pretend challenge, will draw
                The foil’s iron, and he who touches his adversary
                Three times will be victorious.
                    (the procession advances, etc. etc.)
ALL                         Glory to the monarch
                                   Of Denmark
                                   Our Lord.
                                A happy people
                                   Turns its hands
                                   And hearts to you.
                                Glory to Hamlet.
                                   Glory to Laertes!
KING       (The foil is poisoned?                        (sottovoce to Laertes)
LAE.                                        The first time that I
                Prick the prince, he will be dead.)
KING                                                       Hamlet!
                Join your hand to that Laertes’.
HAM.      Cavalier, if I offended you, I humbly     (to Laertes)
                As for your pardon. Here there is no one
                Unaware of the dementia by which I was struck
                For a long time; and if I hurled a vain      
                Word or act against you, lord,
                It was the madness of astray senses.
LAE.        May there be peace o prince.
KING       (to the Herald)         Good, give the foils.
HAM.      “My weariness will be your shield,
                “Laertes.
LAE.                      “O my lord, you mock
                “Your adversary.
HAM.                        “Oh no, I speak from good sense.”
LAE.        “This one is too heavy.                      (trying a foil)
HAM.                                         “And it fits me
                “Very well.
LAE.                        “I want to take another.       (he choses
                                                          another without a pad)
HAM.      Are these foils equally
                Long?
HER.                  Yes, prince.
HAM.      (in the act of on guard) Therefore to us, Laertes.
KING       Le the cups be filled with precious wine,
                And at every blow that the prince throws, let the
                Trumpets and drums thunder, and let the cannons
                Rispond from the walls… I drink to
                Hamlet’s health… and to you judges, shrewdly
                Consider the duel.
HAM.                                On Guard!
LAE.                                                   On guard!
HAM.      Point.
LAE.                  No.
HAM.                        Let it be decided.
HOR.                                                   Securely,
                This is a blow.
KING                            Long live Hamlet!!
ALL                                                         Hurrah!
                         (fanfare and cannon shots)
                                Glory to the monarch
                                   Of Denmark
                                   Our Lord.
KING       (takes a cup in hand)
                The cup is full – the Rhenish wine sparkles
                   Like the flashes – of a pupil
                   See, I quench – my lips’ thirst.
                                          Come drink, Hamlet.          (Hamlet
                                           and Laertes take up the duel again)
                   Already you are dripping – with sweat;
                   Come, a cup – is before you;
                   Let not this sweet – libation weigh on you.
                                                    Come, Hamlet, drink.
QU.   (murmuring in the king’s ear)
                (Silence, Satan – in that Rhenish wine
                You know a mortal – poison swims.
                   Monster, take away – that horrid cup;
                                                           Silence, Satan!)
HAM.      (always fighting)
                I will drink later… I want to finish the attack.
                Parry this.
LAE.                      It is parried…
HAM.                                      And this…
HOR.                                                      Point.
LAE.        Yes, I confess it.
HAM.                              And two.
KING                                          Hamlet will win.
ALL                         Glory to the monarch         (fanfare and
                                   Of Denmark                cannon blows)
                                   Our Lord.
KING       Come, cousin, a sip, a sip…
QU.                                                 The drink
                To me!…
KING                  Stop queen… it is poison. (the queen faints
                and is taken elsewhere: the duel breaks out again)
LAE.       And this to you. (wounds Hamlet; who feeling
                himself wounded disarms Laertes, changes foils
                with him and wounds him)
HAM.                      Heavens!!!
KING                                      Guards! They are furious
                And bloodthirsty; separate them.
HAM.                                              Back.        (Laertes falls)
LAE.        I have fallen in my own trap… the sword
                Was poisoned!…
HAM.                              Horror!… And the Queen?!
KING       She passed out at the sight of blood.     (trembling)
LAE.        You too will die, my prince… Ah! Forgive me.
                The king is the vile one… the cup was a poison
                Poured… by the king…                                (dies)
HAM.                       Oh heaven! My mother drank it!
                Die assassin!!    (kills the king, who falls behind
VOICES                        Help! Betrayal!…             the throne)
OTHER YELLS   Ah! Betrayal!…
HAM.      (supported by Horatio)   Now I await you o death!

(Cala la tela).

FINE DELLA TRAGEDIA.

(The curtain falls).

END OF THE TRAGEDY

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