Laertes flushes crimson so suddenly that he feels light-headed. They haven't discussed this at all--but he thinks on the poem inscribed on his ring, and he finds that he knows what would please Sagramore best. "One moment," he says, and hurries out of the room.

When he returns, he's carrying a length of worn brown leather, which he buckles on his neck as he approaches. "I think he would like to have me wear this," Laertes says as he sits in a nearby armchair.