LAERTES        This is too heavy, let me see another.

HAMLET         This likes me well. These foils have all a length?

OSRIC Ay, my good lord.

CLAUDIUS      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.      (5.2.241-251)

Laertes is taking his time, being fussy, making sure he’s got the right weapon: this is too heavy, let me see another. The tension is rising, not just because the audience (and Claudius and Laertes, certainly) know what’s at stake, but because Laertes and Hamlet are picking up and flourishing the foils, trying a few passes; there’s more movement, faster movement, in the scene. Hamlet’s satisfied with his choice; this likes me well. And then he just double-checks: these foils have all a length? They’re all the same in that respect, yeah? (Laertes and Claudius may well hold their breath, willing Hamlet not to look too closely at the others in checking.) Ay, my good lord, Osric reassures. (Does he know what’s going on? Perhaps.)

So they’re ready to go, it seems, and Claudius is taking charge. Set me the stoups of wine upon that table—there must be a servant or two with a tray, a jug, goblets, glasses, whatever’s appropriate for the setting. And a table, so that the wine can be properly visible to the audience, as well as out of the way. He’s explaining how this is going to work: if Hamlet give the first or second hit, that is, wins one of the first two bouts, or quit in answer of the third exchange—this seems to mean something like, manages to win, requite the third, even if he loses the first two—let all the battlements their ordnance fire. The castle guns will sound a salute! I’ve got it all organised, surprise! BOOM! (Hamlet might look taken aback, embarrassed at this; he hates this sort of display.) And then the King shall drink to Hamlet’s better breath, toast the fact that he’s back in the game, got his second wind, and in the cup an union shall he throw, after the toast’s been drunk, a pearl richer than that which four successive kings in Denmark’s crown hath worn. It’s going to be a really, really big pearl! He might display it: look! look at how magnificent and how rich I am, willing to bestow such an enormous prize on a mere fencing bout! (Would a pearl dissolve in the wine? Possibly. The point is the ostentation, but also the excuse for adding something to the cup, whether the union is the poison itself, or allows for the poison to be added under its cover.) It all comes across as rather vulgar, especially the unfavourable comparison with the Danish crown jewels.