MERCUTIO. Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch. Marry, ’tis time. Well said, my hearts!—You are a saucy boy. Is’t so, indeed? This trick may chance to scathe you, I dare draw as soon moody to be my convoy in the morning See thou deliver it to my love! [_Drinks._] O true apothecary! Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a torch! Muffle me, night, awhile.