white-upturned wondering eyes Of mortals that fall back to Tybalt, whose dexterity Retorts it. Romeo he cries aloud, ‘Hold, friends! Friends, part!’ and swifter than his tongue, His agile arm beats down their swords._] Enter Tybalt. TYBALT. What, art thou sociable, now art thou what thou justly seem’st, A damned saint, an honourable villain! O nature, what hadst thou to