Adelaide. Because, as Mrs. Mortlake says, children (if they are not too young) learn faster than grown persons; their memories are better, as they have not yet been overloaded, and they have nothing of importance to divert their attention from their lessons.
Rosalind. I would rather grow up as ignorant as our tenant's wife, Dutch Katy, than be made such a slave as I am now. I am sure Katy's life is an easy one compared to mine.
Adelaide, smiling. Consider it not so deeply.
Rosalind. Yes, I will, for I am out of patience. I wish it was the fashion to be ignorant.
Adelaide. Fortunately it is not. To say nothing of the disgrace of being ignorant when it is known we have had opportunities of acquiring knowledge, persons whose minds are vacant, have but few enjoyments. For instance, as Josephine knows nothing of music, it gives her no pleasure to hear the finest singing and playing, even such as Mrs. Mortlake's. As she has no idea of drawing, she takes not the least delight in looking at beautiful pictures. Having never been in the habit of reading, she wonders how it is possible to be amused with a book; and as she has no knowledge of history or geography, she often, when she does read, is puzzled with allusions to those subjects; and a French word is as unintelligible to her, as if it were Greek. Plants and animals do not interest her, because she has scarcely an idea of the properties or attributes of any of the productions of Nature. And what is worse than all, she takes no pleasure in listening to the conversation of sensible people, because she is incapable of understanding it: her comprehension being only equal to the most frivolous topics.
Rosalind. Notwithstanding all this, her life passes calmly and pleasantly; and I am sure she is much happier than we are.
Adelaide. Speak for yourself, dear Rosalind. For my part, I do not wish to be more happy than I am.
Rosalind. Well, I thought so too, till I knew Josephine. And she is by no means so dull as you suppose.
Adelaide. Perhaps she is not naturally stupid; but indulgence and indolence have so benumbed her understanding, that it seems now incapable of the smallest effort.
At this moment Mrs. Mortlake came down with a book in her hand, for the afternoon reading.