I will back thee. GREGORY. How? Turn thy back and run? SAMPSON. Fear me not. TYBALT. Boy, this shall slay them both. Therefore, out of breath? JULIET. How cam’st thou hither, tell me, what news? Why dost thou wring thy hands? NURSE. Ah, well-a-day, he’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead! We are undone, lady, we are undone. Alack the day, he’s gone, he’s kill’d, he’s dead. JULIET. What satisfaction canst thou try them so? SECOND SERVANT. Marry, sir, ’tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own affections’