So it clings closer,
And the whole soul drinks in th’ instruction.
RECHA.
Yes,
And Sittah certainly has not read much.
SITTAH.
How so? Not that I’m vain of having read;
But what can be thy reason? Speak out boldly,
Thy reason for it.
RECHA.
She is so right down,
Unartificial—only like herself
And books do seldom leave us so; my father
Says.
SITTAH.
What a man thy father is, my Recha.
RECHA.