OSRIC.
A hit, a very palpable hit.
LAERTES.
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.
HAMLET.
I’ll play this bout first; set it by awhile.
[They play.]
Come. Another hit; what say you?
LAERTES.
A touch, a touch, I do confess.
KING.
Our son shall win.