FORE. Oh, my poor niece, my poor niece, is she gone too? Well, I shall run mad next.
MRS. FORE. Well, but how mad? How d’ye mean?
BEN. Nay, I’ll give you leave to guess. I’ll undertake to make a voyage to Antegoa—no, hold; I mayn’t say so, neither. But I’ll sail as far as Leghorn and back again before you shall guess at the matter, and do nothing else. Mess, you may take in all the points of the compass, and not hit right.
MRS. FORE. Your experiment will take up a little too much time.
BEN. Why, then, I’ll tell you; there’s a new wedding upon the stocks, and they two are a-going to be married to rights.
SCAN. Who?
BEN. Why, father and—the young woman. I can’t hit of her name.
SCAN. Angelica?
BEN. Ay, the same.
MRS. FORE. Sir Sampson and Angelica? Impossible!