ENOBARBUS  Would we had all such wives, that the men might go to wars with the women.

ANTONY         So much uncurbable, her garboils, Caesar,

Made out of her impatience—which not wanted

Shrewdness of policy too—I grieving grant

Did you too much disquiet, for that you must

But say I could not help it.   (2.2.65-71)

Enobarbus chips in to lower the tension and also the tone, a bit; it can be played as an aside, or else as a slightly inappropriate intervention in the conversation between two men who so significantly outrank him: we should all be so lucky in wives! (the wars Enobarbus has in mind are probably sexual, conquering powerful women like Fulvia). Antony continues, however, not engaging with Enobarbus, although there could be a wink or a smirk, the two of them more comfortable with such banter than chilly Caesar is; he continues too with his horse conceit, suggesting that Fulvia was so much uncurbable, so out of control, so independent and wilful, that she made her garboils, her disturbances out of her impatience and frustration—although he has to admit that her campaign was not lacking in shrewdness of policy, political savvy too. And Antony so sorry about all this, he says (he is not sorry): I grieving grant that Fulvia did you too much disquiet, upset you, made trouble for you. But really, Antony insists, you must but say I could not help it. You have to concede, Caesar, that this wasn’t my fault, I had nothing to do with it, there’s nothing that I could have done to prevent it. (It’s a classical sorry not sorry, sorry if you were upset by all of this apology. Nothing to do with me. Women, eh.)