This likes me well. These foils have all a length?[They prepare to play.]
Osr.
Ay, my good lord.
King.
Set me the stoups of wine upon that table,—
If Hamlet give the first or second hit,
Or quit in answer of the third exchange,
Let all the battlements their ordnance fire;
The king shall drink to Hamlet’s better breath;
And in the cup an union shall he throw,
Richer than that which four successive kings
In Denmark’s crown have worn. Give me the cups;
And let the kettle to the trumpet speak,
The trumpet to the cannoneer without,
The cannons to the heavens, the heavens to earth,
‘Now the king drinks to Hamlet.’—Come, begin:—
And you, the judges, bear a wary eye.
Ham.
Come on, sir.
Laer.
Come, my lord.
[They play.]
Ham.
One.
Laer.
No.
Ham.
Judgment!
Osr.
A hit, a very palpable hit.
Laer.
Well;—again.
King.
Stay, give me drink.—Hamlet, this pearl is thine;
Here’s to thy health.—
[Trumpets sound, and cannon shot off within.]
Give him the cup.
Ham.
I’ll play this bout first; set it by awhile.—
Come.—Another hit; what say you?
[They play.]
Laer.
A touch, a touch, I do confess.
King.
Our son shall win.
Queen.
He’s fat, and scant of breath.—
Here, Hamlet, take my napkin, rub thy brows:
The queen carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet.
Ham.
Good madam!
King.
Gertrude, do not drink.
Queen.
I will, my lord; I pray you pardon me.
King.
[Aside.] It is the poison’d cup; it is too late.
Ham.
I dare not drink yet, madam; by-and-by.
Queen.
Come, let me wipe thy face.
Laer.
My lord, I’ll hit him now.
King.
I do not think’t.
Laer.
[Aside.] And yet ‘tis almost ‘gainst my conscience.
Ham.
Come, for the third, Laertes: you but dally;
I pray you pass with your best violence:
I am afeard you make a wanton of me.
Laer.
Say you so? come on.
[They play.]
Osr.
Nothing, neither way.
Laer.
Have at you now!
[Laertes wounds Hamlet; then, in scuffling, they change rapiers, and Hamlet wounds Laertes.]
King.
Part them; they are incens’d.
Ham.
Nay, come again!
[The Queen falls.]
Osr.
Look to the queen there, ho!
Hor.
They bleed on both sides.—How is it, my lord?
Osr.
How is’t, Laertes?
Laer.
Why, as a woodcock to my own springe, Osric;
I am justly kill’d with mine own treachery.
Ham.
How does the Queen?
King.
She swoons to see them bleed.
Queen.
No, no! the drink, the drink!—O my dear Hamlet!—
The drink, the drink!—I am poison’d.
[Dies.]
Ham.
O villany!—Ho! let the door be lock’d:
Treachery! seek it out.
[Laertes falls.]
Laer.
It is here, Hamlet: Hamlet, thou art slain;
No medicine in the world can do thee good;
In
