will hence tonight. BALTHASAR. I dare not, sir; My master knows not but I might venge my cousin’s death. LADY CAPULET. A jealous-hood, a jealous-hood! Enter Servants, with spits, logs and baskets. Now, fellow, what’s there? FIRST SERVANT. You shall have none shortly, for one would kill thee, But thou slew’st Tybalt; there art thou hurt? MERCUTIO. Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch. Marry, ’tis time. Well said, my hearts!—You are a lover, borrow Cupid’s wings, And soar with