Fulvia: A comely name, my lord.
Antonio: Ah, you?
My father's unforgetting Fulvia?
Fulvia: At least not Helena, whoe'er she be.
Antonio: And did I call you so?
Fulvia: Unless it is
These stones have tongue and passion.
Antonio: Then the night
Recalling dreams of dim antiquity's
Heroic bloom worked on me.—But whence are
Your steps, so late, alone?
Fulvia: From the Cardinal,
Who has but come.
Antonio: What comfort there?
Fulvia: With doom
The moody bolt of Rome broods over us.
Antonio: My father will not bind his heresy?