FORE. Mercy on us, I was afraid of this. And there’s the handsome young woman, she, as they say, brother Val went mad for, she’s mad too, I think. 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! BEN. That may be—but I’m sure it is as I tell you. SCAN. ’Sdeath, it’s a jest. I can’t believe it. BEN. Look you, friend, it’s nothing to me whether you believe it or no. What I say is true, d’ye see, they are married, or just going to be married, I know not which. FORE. Well, but they are not mad, that is, not lunatic? BEN. I don’t know what you may call madness. But she’s mad for a husband, and he’s horn mad, I think, or they’d ne’er make a match together. Here they come. SCENE IX. [_To them_] SIR SAMPSON, ANGELICA, BUCKRAM. SIR SAMP. Where is this old soothsayer, this uncle of mine elect? Aha, old Foresight, Uncle Foresight, wish me joy, Uncle Foresight, double joy, both as uncle and astrologer; here’s a conjunction that was not foretold in all your Ephemeris. The brightest star in the blue firmament—_is shot from above_, _in a jelly of love_, and so forth; and I’m lord of the ascendant. Odd, you’re an old fellow, Foresight; uncle, I mean, a very old fellow, Uncle Foresight: and yet you shall live to dance at my wedding; faith and troth, you shall. Odd, we’ll have the music of the sphere’s for thee, old Lilly, that we will, and thou shalt lead up a dance in Via Lactea. FORE. I’m thunderstruck! You are not married to my niece? SIR SAMP. Not absolutely married, uncle; but very near it, within a kiss of the matter, as you see. [_Kisses_ ANGELICA.] ANG. ’Tis very true, indeed, uncle. I hope you’ll be my father, and give me. SIR SAMP. That he shall, or I’ll burn his globes. Body o’ me, he shall be thy father, I’ll make him thy father, and thou shalt make me a father, and I’ll make thee a mother, and we’ll beget sons and daughters enough to put the weekly bills out of countenance. SCAN. Death and hell! Where’s Valentine? SCENE X. SIR SAMPSON, ANGELICA, FORESIGHT, MRS. FORESIGHT, BEN, BUCKRAM. MRS. FORE. This is so surprising.