LAERTES. Have at you now.

[_Laertes wounds Hamlet; then, in scuffling, they change rapiers, and Hamlet wounds Laertes._]

KING. Part them; they are incens’d.

HAMLET. Nay, come again!

[_The Queen falls._]

OSRIC. Look to the Queen there, ho!

HORATIO. They bleed on both sides. How is it, my lord?

OSRIC. How is’t, Laertes?

LAERTES. Why, as a woodcock to my own springe, Osric. I am justly kill’d with mine own treachery.