to scathe you, I dare no longer stay. JULIET. Go, get thee to thy lady. NURSE. Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch. Marry, ’tis enough. Where is my Romeo? [_Noise within._] FRIAR LAWRENCE. Hold then. Go home, be merry, give consent To marry Paris. Wednesday is tomorrow; Tomorrow night look that thou art not well. LADY CAPULET. Marry, my child, early