ANTONY.
Would I had never seen her!

ENOBARBUS.
O sir, you had then left unseen a wonderful piece of work; which
not to have been blest withal would have discredited your travel.

ANTONY.
Fulvia is dead.

ENOBARBUS.
Sir?

ANTONY.
Fulvia is dead.

ENOBARBUS.
Fulvia?

ANTONY.
Dead.

ENOBARBUS.
Why, sir, give the gods a thankful sacrifice. When it pleaseth
their deities to take the wife of a man from him, it shows to
man the tailors of the earth; comforting therein that when old
robes are worn out there are members to make new. If there were
no more women but Fulvia, then had you indeed a cut, and the case
to be lamented: this grief is crown'd with consolation; your old
smock brings forth a new petticoat:--and, indeed, the tears live