CLAUDIUS                  Give me the cups,

And let the kettle to the trumpet speak,

The trumpet to the cannoneer without,

The cannons to the heavens, the heaven to earth.

(Trumpets the while)

Now the King drinks to Hamlet. Come, begin.

And you, the judges, bear a wary eye.         (5.2.251-256)

The tension is rising, rising, as Claudius issues his instructions—give me the cups, go on, put them on the table, as I said—and let the kettle to the trumpet speak, the trumpet to the cannoneer without, the cannons to the heavens, the heaven to earth. It’s NOISY: the kettledrums being beaten rhythmically, drumroll please, trumpets sounding a fanfare, a signal to the soldiers outside in charge of the cannon (although those aren’t going off yet?)—and, as Claudius suggests, the cannon will resound to the heavens and back again. It’s all going to be VERY NOISY, and it’s noisy enough already. Now the King drinks to Hamlet, a toast, eye-contact even. Perhaps he has to shout, raising the tension again. Come, begin. It’s time. And you, the judges, bear a wary eye. No one must suspect anything, so he says, look closely, watch carefully. The judges—Osric, usually—have to assess whether there’s been a hit, but if that’s what they’re looking for, no one’s going to be looking at the foils as such, or too closely at what Claudius is going to add to the cup of wine.