The lady stirs. [_Juliet wakes and stirs._] JULIET. O Romeo, Romeo. Who ever would have kill’d my husband. Back, foolish tears, 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 weapons. Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage, Tybalt, Mercutio, the Prince come hither.