Inferences - AP English Literature and Composition
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My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree
Toward heaven still,
And there's a barrel that I didn't fill
Beside it, and there may be two or three
Apples I didn't pick upon some bough.
But I am done with apple-picking now.
Essence of winter sleep is on the night,
The scent of apples: I am drowsing off.
In addition to apple picking, of what might this poem be a description?
My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree
Toward heaven still,
And there's a barrel that I didn't fill
Beside it, and there may be two or three
Apples I didn't pick upon some bough.
But I am done with apple-picking now.
Essence of winter sleep is on the night,
The scent of apples: I am drowsing off.
In addition to apple picking, of what might this poem be a description?
The tone of the poem is somber, which rules out love and joy. Based on the mention of “heaven,” “drowsing off, and “winter sleep,” it’s safe to assume that this poem may be discussing death.
Passage adapted from Robert Frost’s “After Apple-Picking.” North of Boston. (1915)
The tone of the poem is somber, which rules out love and joy. Based on the mention of “heaven,” “drowsing off, and “winter sleep,” it’s safe to assume that this poem may be discussing death.
Passage adapted from Robert Frost’s “After Apple-Picking.” North of Boston. (1915)
Compare your answer with the correct one above
Adapted from Notes from the Underground (1864)in White Nights and Other Stories by Fyodor Dostoyevsky (1919, trans. Garnett)
"Ha! ha! ha! But you know there is no such thing as choice in reality, say what you like," you will interpose with a chuckle. "Science has succeeded in so far analyzing man that we know already that choice and what is called freedom of will is nothing else than—"
Stay, gentlemen, I meant to begin with that myself. I confess, I was rather frightened. I was just going to say that the devil only knows what choice depends on, and that perhaps that was a very good thing, but I remembered the teaching of science . . . and pulled myself up. And here you have begun upon it. Indeed, if there really is some day discovered a formula for all our desires and caprices—that is, an explanation of what they depend upon, by what laws they arise, how they develop, what they are aiming at in one case and in another and so on, that is a real mathematical formula—then, most likely, man will at once cease to feel desire, indeed, he will be certain to. For who would want to choose by rule? Besides, he will at once be transformed from a human being into an organ-stop or something of the sort; for what is a man without desires, without free will and without choice, if not a stop in an organ? What do you think? Let us reckon the chances—can such a thing happen or not?
"H'm!" you decide. "Our choice is usually mistaken from a false view of our advantage. We sometimes choose absolute nonsense because in our foolishness we see in that nonsense the easiest means for attaining a supposed advantage. But when all that is explained and worked out on paper (which is perfectly possible, for it is contemptible and senseless to suppose that some laws of nature man will never understand), then certainly so-called desires will no longer exist. For if a desire should come into conflict with reason we shall then reason and not desire, because it will be impossible retaining our reason to be SENSELESS in our desires, and in that way knowingly act against reason and desire to injure ourselves. And as all choice and reasoning can be really calculated—because there will some day be discovered the laws of our so-called free will—so, joking apart, there may one day be something like a table constructed of them, so that we really shall choose in accordance with it. If, for instance, some day they calculate and prove to me that I made a long nose at someone because I could not help making a long nose at him and that I had to do it in that particular way, what FREEDOM is left me, especially if I am a learned man and have taken my degree somewhere? Then I should be able to calculate my whole life for thirty years beforehand. In short, if this could be arranged there would be nothing left for us to do; anyway, we should have to understand that. And, in fact, we ought unwearyingly to repeat to ourselves that at such and such a time and in such and such circumstances nature does not ask our leave; that we have got to take her as she is and not fashion her to suit our fancy, and if we really aspire to formulas and tables of rules, and well, even . . . to the chemical retort, there's no help for it, we must accept the retort too, or else it will be accepted without our consent. . . ."
Which of the following would best finish the underlined quotation?
Adapted from Notes from the Underground (1864)in White Nights and Other Stories by Fyodor Dostoyevsky (1919, trans. Garnett)
"Ha! ha! ha! But you know there is no such thing as choice in reality, say what you like," you will interpose with a chuckle. "Science has succeeded in so far analyzing man that we know already that choice and what is called freedom of will is nothing else than—"
Stay, gentlemen, I meant to begin with that myself. I confess, I was rather frightened. I was just going to say that the devil only knows what choice depends on, and that perhaps that was a very good thing, but I remembered the teaching of science . . . and pulled myself up. And here you have begun upon it. Indeed, if there really is some day discovered a formula for all our desires and caprices—that is, an explanation of what they depend upon, by what laws they arise, how they develop, what they are aiming at in one case and in another and so on, that is a real mathematical formula—then, most likely, man will at once cease to feel desire, indeed, he will be certain to. For who would want to choose by rule? Besides, he will at once be transformed from a human being into an organ-stop or something of the sort; for what is a man without desires, without free will and without choice, if not a stop in an organ? What do you think? Let us reckon the chances—can such a thing happen or not?
"H'm!" you decide. "Our choice is usually mistaken from a false view of our advantage. We sometimes choose absolute nonsense because in our foolishness we see in that nonsense the easiest means for attaining a supposed advantage. But when all that is explained and worked out on paper (which is perfectly possible, for it is contemptible and senseless to suppose that some laws of nature man will never understand), then certainly so-called desires will no longer exist. For if a desire should come into conflict with reason we shall then reason and not desire, because it will be impossible retaining our reason to be SENSELESS in our desires, and in that way knowingly act against reason and desire to injure ourselves. And as all choice and reasoning can be really calculated—because there will some day be discovered the laws of our so-called free will—so, joking apart, there may one day be something like a table constructed of them, so that we really shall choose in accordance with it. If, for instance, some day they calculate and prove to me that I made a long nose at someone because I could not help making a long nose at him and that I had to do it in that particular way, what FREEDOM is left me, especially if I am a learned man and have taken my degree somewhere? Then I should be able to calculate my whole life for thirty years beforehand. In short, if this could be arranged there would be nothing left for us to do; anyway, we should have to understand that. And, in fact, we ought unwearyingly to repeat to ourselves that at such and such a time and in such and such circumstances nature does not ask our leave; that we have got to take her as she is and not fashion her to suit our fancy, and if we really aspire to formulas and tables of rules, and well, even . . . to the chemical retort, there's no help for it, we must accept the retort too, or else it will be accepted without our consent. . . ."
Which of the following would best finish the underlined quotation?
Throughout this selection, the speaking character talks about how freedom is really just based on the physical makeup of the human being. This is quite obvious throughout the last paragraph. Therefore, it is most likely that he would have finished the underlined sentence by remarking that free will is not real at all but is instead merely the outcome of physical causes.
Throughout this selection, the speaking character talks about how freedom is really just based on the physical makeup of the human being. This is quite obvious throughout the last paragraph. Therefore, it is most likely that he would have finished the underlined sentence by remarking that free will is not real at all but is instead merely the outcome of physical causes.
Compare your answer with the correct one above
From Notes from the Underground by Fyodor Dostoyevsky
"Ha! ha! ha! But you know there is no such thing as choice in reality, say what you like," you will interpose with a chuckle. "Science has succeeded in so far analyzing man that we know already that choice and what is called freedom of will is nothing else than--"
Stay, gentlemen, I meant to begin with that myself. I confess, I was rather frightened. I was just going to say that the devil only knows what choice depends on, and that perhaps that was a very good thing, but I remembered the teaching of science ... and pulled myself up. And here you have begun upon it. Indeed, if there really is some day discovered a formula for all our desires and caprices--that is, an explanation of what they depend upon, by what laws they arise, how they develop, what they are aiming at in one case and in another and so on, that is a real mathematical formula--then, most likely, man will at once cease to feel desire, indeed, he will be certain to. For who would want to choose by rule? Besides, he will at once be transformed from a human being into an organ-stop or something of the sort; for what is a man without desires, without free will and without choice, if not a stop in an organ? What do you think? Let us reckon the chances--can such a thing happen or not?
"H'm!" you decide. "Our choice is usually mistaken from a false view of our advantage. We sometimes choose absolute nonsense because in our foolishness we see in that nonsense the easiest means for attaining a supposed advantage. But when all that is explained and worked out on paper (which is perfectly possible, for it is contemptible and senseless to suppose that some laws of nature man will never understand), then certainly so-called desires will no longer exist. For if a desire should come into conflict with reason we shall then reason and not desire, because it will be impossible retaining our reason to be SENSELESS in our desires, and in that way knowingly act against reason and desire to injure ourselves. And as all choice and reasoning can be really calculated--because there will some day be discovered the laws of our so-called free will--so, joking apart, there may one day be something like a table constructed of them, so that we really shall choose in accordance with it. If, for instance, some day they calculate and prove to me that I made a long nose at someone because I could not help making a long nose at him and that I had to do it in that particular way, what FREEDOM is left me, especially if I am a learned man and have taken my degree somewhere? Then I should be able to calculate my whole life for thirty years beforehand. In short, if this could be arranged there would be nothing left for us to do; anyway, we should have to understand that. And, in fact, we ought unwearyingly to repeat to ourselves that at such and such a time and in such and such circumstances nature does not ask our leave; that we have got to take her as she is and not fashion her to suit our fancy, and if we really aspire to formulas and tables of rules, and well, even ... to the chemical retort, there's no help for it, we must accept the retort too, or else it will be accepted without our consent ...."
Which of the following is an example scenario that fits the speaker’s opinion regarding a possible future in which all desires are known as being derived from a formula?
From Notes from the Underground by Fyodor Dostoyevsky
"Ha! ha! ha! But you know there is no such thing as choice in reality, say what you like," you will interpose with a chuckle. "Science has succeeded in so far analyzing man that we know already that choice and what is called freedom of will is nothing else than--"
Stay, gentlemen, I meant to begin with that myself. I confess, I was rather frightened. I was just going to say that the devil only knows what choice depends on, and that perhaps that was a very good thing, but I remembered the teaching of science ... and pulled myself up. And here you have begun upon it. Indeed, if there really is some day discovered a formula for all our desires and caprices--that is, an explanation of what they depend upon, by what laws they arise, how they develop, what they are aiming at in one case and in another and so on, that is a real mathematical formula--then, most likely, man will at once cease to feel desire, indeed, he will be certain to. For who would want to choose by rule? Besides, he will at once be transformed from a human being into an organ-stop or something of the sort; for what is a man without desires, without free will and without choice, if not a stop in an organ? What do you think? Let us reckon the chances--can such a thing happen or not?
"H'm!" you decide. "Our choice is usually mistaken from a false view of our advantage. We sometimes choose absolute nonsense because in our foolishness we see in that nonsense the easiest means for attaining a supposed advantage. But when all that is explained and worked out on paper (which is perfectly possible, for it is contemptible and senseless to suppose that some laws of nature man will never understand), then certainly so-called desires will no longer exist. For if a desire should come into conflict with reason we shall then reason and not desire, because it will be impossible retaining our reason to be SENSELESS in our desires, and in that way knowingly act against reason and desire to injure ourselves. And as all choice and reasoning can be really calculated--because there will some day be discovered the laws of our so-called free will--so, joking apart, there may one day be something like a table constructed of them, so that we really shall choose in accordance with it. If, for instance, some day they calculate and prove to me that I made a long nose at someone because I could not help making a long nose at him and that I had to do it in that particular way, what FREEDOM is left me, especially if I am a learned man and have taken my degree somewhere? Then I should be able to calculate my whole life for thirty years beforehand. In short, if this could be arranged there would be nothing left for us to do; anyway, we should have to understand that. And, in fact, we ought unwearyingly to repeat to ourselves that at such and such a time and in such and such circumstances nature does not ask our leave; that we have got to take her as she is and not fashion her to suit our fancy, and if we really aspire to formulas and tables of rules, and well, even ... to the chemical retort, there's no help for it, we must accept the retort too, or else it will be accepted without our consent ...."
Which of the following is an example scenario that fits the speaker’s opinion regarding a possible future in which all desires are known as being derived from a formula?
The best clue for this question is found when the speaker says, "man will at once cease to feel desire, indeed, he will be certain to." This is the upshot of knowing that all desires conform to a formula. Therefore, while we can imagine many of the other options being potential answers, the best one sticks closest to the text. That one is the answer stating that lovers will lack passion—that is, they will not have desire for one another.
The best clue for this question is found when the speaker says, "man will at once cease to feel desire, indeed, he will be certain to." This is the upshot of knowing that all desires conform to a formula. Therefore, while we can imagine many of the other options being potential answers, the best one sticks closest to the text. That one is the answer stating that lovers will lack passion—that is, they will not have desire for one another.
Compare your answer with the correct one above
Adapted from Notes from the Underground (1864)in White Nights and Other Stories by Fyodor Dostoyevsky (1919, trans. Garnett)
"Ha! ha! ha! But you know there is no such thing as choice in reality, say what you like," you will interpose with a chuckle. "Science has succeeded in so far analyzing man that we know already that choice and what is called freedom of will is nothing else than—"
Stay, gentlemen, I meant to begin with that myself. I confess, I was rather frightened. I was just going to say that the devil only knows what choice depends on, and that perhaps that was a very good thing, but I remembered the teaching of science . . . and pulled myself up. And here you have begun upon it. Indeed, if there really is some day discovered a formula for all our desires and caprices—that is, an explanation of what they depend upon, by what laws they arise, how they develop, what they are aiming at in one case and in another and so on, that is a real mathematical formula—then, most likely, man will at once cease to feel desire, indeed, he will be certain to. For who would want to choose by rule? Besides, he will at once be transformed from a human being into an organ-stop or something of the sort; for what is a man without desires, without free will and without choice, if not a stop in an organ? What do you think? Let us reckon the chances—can such a thing happen or not?
"H'm!" you decide. "Our choice is usually mistaken from a false view of our advantage. We sometimes choose absolute nonsense because in our foolishness we see in that nonsense the easiest means for attaining a supposed advantage. But when all that is explained and worked out on paper (which is perfectly possible, for it is contemptible and senseless to suppose that some laws of nature man will never understand), then certainly so-called desires will no longer exist. For if a desire should come into conflict with reason we shall then reason and not desire, because it will be impossible retaining our reason to be SENSELESS in our desires, and in that way knowingly act against reason and desire to injure ourselves. And as all choice and reasoning can be really calculated—because there will some day be discovered the laws of our so-called free will—so, joking apart, there may one day be something like a table constructed of them, so that we really shall choose in accordance with it. If, for instance, some day they calculate and prove to me that I made a long nose at someone because I could not help making a long nose at him and that I had to do it in that particular way, what FREEDOM is left me, especially if I am a learned man and have taken my degree somewhere? Then I should be able to calculate my whole life for thirty years beforehand. In short, if this could be arranged there would be nothing left for us to do; anyway, we should have to understand that. And, in fact, we ought unwearyingly to repeat to ourselves that at such and such a time and in such and such circumstances nature does not ask our leave; that we have got to take her as she is and not fashion her to suit our fancy, and if we really aspire to formulas and tables of rules, and well, even . . . to the chemical retort, there's no help for it, we must accept the retort too, or else it will be accepted without our consent. . . ."
What seems to have been the reaction of the people being spoken to in this passage?
Adapted from Notes from the Underground (1864)in White Nights and Other Stories by Fyodor Dostoyevsky (1919, trans. Garnett)
"Ha! ha! ha! But you know there is no such thing as choice in reality, say what you like," you will interpose with a chuckle. "Science has succeeded in so far analyzing man that we know already that choice and what is called freedom of will is nothing else than—"
Stay, gentlemen, I meant to begin with that myself. I confess, I was rather frightened. I was just going to say that the devil only knows what choice depends on, and that perhaps that was a very good thing, but I remembered the teaching of science . . . and pulled myself up. And here you have begun upon it. Indeed, if there really is some day discovered a formula for all our desires and caprices—that is, an explanation of what they depend upon, by what laws they arise, how they develop, what they are aiming at in one case and in another and so on, that is a real mathematical formula—then, most likely, man will at once cease to feel desire, indeed, he will be certain to. For who would want to choose by rule? Besides, he will at once be transformed from a human being into an organ-stop or something of the sort; for what is a man without desires, without free will and without choice, if not a stop in an organ? What do you think? Let us reckon the chances—can such a thing happen or not?
"H'm!" you decide. "Our choice is usually mistaken from a false view of our advantage. We sometimes choose absolute nonsense because in our foolishness we see in that nonsense the easiest means for attaining a supposed advantage. But when all that is explained and worked out on paper (which is perfectly possible, for it is contemptible and senseless to suppose that some laws of nature man will never understand), then certainly so-called desires will no longer exist. For if a desire should come into conflict with reason we shall then reason and not desire, because it will be impossible retaining our reason to be SENSELESS in our desires, and in that way knowingly act against reason and desire to injure ourselves. And as all choice and reasoning can be really calculated—because there will some day be discovered the laws of our so-called free will—so, joking apart, there may one day be something like a table constructed of them, so that we really shall choose in accordance with it. If, for instance, some day they calculate and prove to me that I made a long nose at someone because I could not help making a long nose at him and that I had to do it in that particular way, what FREEDOM is left me, especially if I am a learned man and have taken my degree somewhere? Then I should be able to calculate my whole life for thirty years beforehand. In short, if this could be arranged there would be nothing left for us to do; anyway, we should have to understand that. And, in fact, we ought unwearyingly to repeat to ourselves that at such and such a time and in such and such circumstances nature does not ask our leave; that we have got to take her as she is and not fashion her to suit our fancy, and if we really aspire to formulas and tables of rules, and well, even . . . to the chemical retort, there's no help for it, we must accept the retort too, or else it will be accepted without our consent. . . ."
What seems to have been the reaction of the people being spoken to in this passage?
The most direct clue about the actions of the other people in this passage is found in the speaker's words, "Stay, gentlemen." He seems to be telling them to remain, though they want to leave the area. The other options might indeed seem fine, for the speaker clearly is having to justify himself over and over. However, the only really clear action indication in the passage is the one made by this brief request that is made early in the conversation.
The most direct clue about the actions of the other people in this passage is found in the speaker's words, "Stay, gentlemen." He seems to be telling them to remain, though they want to leave the area. The other options might indeed seem fine, for the speaker clearly is having to justify himself over and over. However, the only really clear action indication in the passage is the one made by this brief request that is made early in the conversation.
Compare your answer with the correct one above
Adapted from Frankenstein by Mary Shelly (1818)
Shutting the door, \[the monster\] approached me and said in a smothered voice, "You have destroyed the work which you began; what is it that you intend? Do you dare to break your promise? I have endured toil and misery; I left Switzerland with you; I crept along the shores of the Rhine, among its willow islands and over the summits of its hills. I have dwelt many months in the heaths of England and among the deserts of Scotland. I have endured incalculable fatigue, and cold, and hunger; do you dare destroy my hopes?"
"Begone! I do break my promise; never will I create another like yourself, equal in deformity and wickedness."
"Slave, I before reasoned with you, but you have proved yourself unworthy of my condescension. Remember that I have power; you believe yourself miserable, but I can make you so wretched that the light of day will be hateful to you. You are my creator, but I am your master; obey!"
"The hour of my irresolution is past, and the period of your power is arrived. Your threats cannot move me to do an act of wickedness, but they confirm me in a determination of not creating you a companion in vice. Shall I, in cool blood, set loose upon the earth a daemon whose delight is in death and wretchedness? Begone! I am firm, and your words will only exasperate my rage."
The monster saw my determination in my face and gnashed his teeth in the impotence of anger. "Shall each man," cried he, "find a wife for his bosom, and each beast have his mate, and I be alone? I had feelings of affection, and they were requited by detestation and scorn. Man! You may hate, but beware! Your hours will pass in dread and misery, and soon the bolt will fall which must ravish from you your happiness forever. Are you to be happy while I grovel in the intensity of my wretchedness? You can blast my other passions, but revenge remains—revenge, henceforth dearer than light or food! I may die, but first you, my tyrant and tormentor, shall curse the sun that gazes on your misery. Beware, for I am fearless and therefore powerful. I will watch with the wiliness of a snake, that I may sting with its venom. Man, you shall repent of the injuries you inflict."
"Devil, cease; and do not poison the air with these sounds of malice. I have declared my resolution to you, and I am no coward to bend beneath words. Leave me; I am inexorable."
"It is well. I go; but remember, I shall be with you on your wedding night."
I started forward and exclaimed, "Villain! Before you sign my death-warrant, be sure that you are yourself safe."
I would have seized him, but he eluded me and quit the house with precipitation. In a few moments I saw him in his boat, which shot across the waters with an arrowy swiftness and was soon lost amidst the waves.
All was again silent, but his words rang in my ears. I burned with rage to pursue the murderer of my peace and precipitate him into the ocean. I walked up and down my room hastily and perturbed, while my imagination conjured up a thousand images to torment and sting me. Why had I not followed him and closed with him in mortal strife? But I had suffered him to depart, and he had directed his course towards the mainland. I shuddered to think who might be the next victim sacrificed to his insatiate revenge. And then I thought again of his words—"I WILL BE WITH YOU ON YOUR WEDDING NIGHT." That, then, was the period fixed for the fulfillment of my destiny. In that hour I should die and at once satisfy and extinguish his malice. The prospect did not move me to fear; yet when I thought of my beloved Elizabeth, of her tears and endless sorrow, when she should find her lover so barbarously snatched from her, tears, the first I had shed for many months, streamed from my eyes, and I resolved not to fall before my enemy without a bitter struggle.
What is implied about Dr. Frankenstein's self-evaluation by the underlined expression?
Adapted from Frankenstein by Mary Shelly (1818)
Shutting the door, \[the monster\] approached me and said in a smothered voice, "You have destroyed the work which you began; what is it that you intend? Do you dare to break your promise? I have endured toil and misery; I left Switzerland with you; I crept along the shores of the Rhine, among its willow islands and over the summits of its hills. I have dwelt many months in the heaths of England and among the deserts of Scotland. I have endured incalculable fatigue, and cold, and hunger; do you dare destroy my hopes?"
"Begone! I do break my promise; never will I create another like yourself, equal in deformity and wickedness."
"Slave, I before reasoned with you, but you have proved yourself unworthy of my condescension. Remember that I have power; you believe yourself miserable, but I can make you so wretched that the light of day will be hateful to you. You are my creator, but I am your master; obey!"
"The hour of my irresolution is past, and the period of your power is arrived. Your threats cannot move me to do an act of wickedness, but they confirm me in a determination of not creating you a companion in vice. Shall I, in cool blood, set loose upon the earth a daemon whose delight is in death and wretchedness? Begone! I am firm, and your words will only exasperate my rage."
The monster saw my determination in my face and gnashed his teeth in the impotence of anger. "Shall each man," cried he, "find a wife for his bosom, and each beast have his mate, and I be alone? I had feelings of affection, and they were requited by detestation and scorn. Man! You may hate, but beware! Your hours will pass in dread and misery, and soon the bolt will fall which must ravish from you your happiness forever. Are you to be happy while I grovel in the intensity of my wretchedness? You can blast my other passions, but revenge remains—revenge, henceforth dearer than light or food! I may die, but first you, my tyrant and tormentor, shall curse the sun that gazes on your misery. Beware, for I am fearless and therefore powerful. I will watch with the wiliness of a snake, that I may sting with its venom. Man, you shall repent of the injuries you inflict."
"Devil, cease; and do not poison the air with these sounds of malice. I have declared my resolution to you, and I am no coward to bend beneath words. Leave me; I am inexorable."
"It is well. I go; but remember, I shall be with you on your wedding night."
I started forward and exclaimed, "Villain! Before you sign my death-warrant, be sure that you are yourself safe."
I would have seized him, but he eluded me and quit the house with precipitation. In a few moments I saw him in his boat, which shot across the waters with an arrowy swiftness and was soon lost amidst the waves.
All was again silent, but his words rang in my ears. I burned with rage to pursue the murderer of my peace and precipitate him into the ocean. I walked up and down my room hastily and perturbed, while my imagination conjured up a thousand images to torment and sting me. Why had I not followed him and closed with him in mortal strife? But I had suffered him to depart, and he had directed his course towards the mainland. I shuddered to think who might be the next victim sacrificed to his insatiate revenge. And then I thought again of his words—"I WILL BE WITH YOU ON YOUR WEDDING NIGHT." That, then, was the period fixed for the fulfillment of my destiny. In that hour I should die and at once satisfy and extinguish his malice. The prospect did not move me to fear; yet when I thought of my beloved Elizabeth, of her tears and endless sorrow, when she should find her lover so barbarously snatched from her, tears, the first I had shed for many months, streamed from my eyes, and I resolved not to fall before my enemy without a bitter struggle.
What is implied about Dr. Frankenstein's self-evaluation by the underlined expression?
The expression "with cool blood" means "without being perturbed at all." Frankenstein is asking if he can actually create yet another monster without having such perturbation. The implication is that he has been perturbed by what he did—hence he cannot bring himself to do it again. This implies that he feels condemned by his conscience for having done something wrong in creating the first monster. Therefore, he will not do it again.
The expression "with cool blood" means "without being perturbed at all." Frankenstein is asking if he can actually create yet another monster without having such perturbation. The implication is that he has been perturbed by what he did—hence he cannot bring himself to do it again. This implies that he feels condemned by his conscience for having done something wrong in creating the first monster. Therefore, he will not do it again.
Compare your answer with the correct one above
Passage adapted from "To Some Ladies" (1817) by John Keats
What though while the wonders of nature exploring,
I cannot your light, mazy footsteps attend;
Nor listen to accents, that almost adoring,
Bless Cynthia's face, the enthusiast's friend:
(5) Yet over the steep, whence the mountain stream rushes,
With you, kindest friends, in idea I rove;
Mark the clear tumbling crystal, its passionate gushes,
Its spray that the wild flower kindly bedews.
Why linger you so, the wild labyrinth strolling?
(10) Why breathless, unable your bliss to declare?
Ah! you list to the nightingale's tender condoling,
Responsive to sylphs, in the moon beamy air.
'Tis morn, and the flowers with dew are yet drooping,
I see you are treading the verge of the sea:
(15) And now! ah, I see it—you just now are stooping
To pick up the keep-sake intended for me.
If a cherub, on pinions of silver descending,
Had brought me a gem from the fret-work of heaven;
And smiles, with his star-cheering voice sweetly blending,
(20) The blessings of Tighe had melodiously given;
It had not created a warmer emotion
Than the present, fair nymphs, I was blest with from you,
Than the shell, from the bright golden sands of the ocean
Which the emerald waves at your feet gladly threw.
(25) For, indeed, 'tis a sweet and peculiar pleasure,
(And blissful is he who such happiness finds,)
To possess but a span of the hour of leisure,
In elegant, pure, and aerial minds.
The unannounced intention of the speaker is to
.
Passage adapted from "To Some Ladies" (1817) by John Keats
What though while the wonders of nature exploring,
I cannot your light, mazy footsteps attend;
Nor listen to accents, that almost adoring,
Bless Cynthia's face, the enthusiast's friend:
(5) Yet over the steep, whence the mountain stream rushes,
With you, kindest friends, in idea I rove;
Mark the clear tumbling crystal, its passionate gushes,
Its spray that the wild flower kindly bedews.
Why linger you so, the wild labyrinth strolling?
(10) Why breathless, unable your bliss to declare?
Ah! you list to the nightingale's tender condoling,
Responsive to sylphs, in the moon beamy air.
'Tis morn, and the flowers with dew are yet drooping,
I see you are treading the verge of the sea:
(15) And now! ah, I see it—you just now are stooping
To pick up the keep-sake intended for me.
If a cherub, on pinions of silver descending,
Had brought me a gem from the fret-work of heaven;
And smiles, with his star-cheering voice sweetly blending,
(20) The blessings of Tighe had melodiously given;
It had not created a warmer emotion
Than the present, fair nymphs, I was blest with from you,
Than the shell, from the bright golden sands of the ocean
Which the emerald waves at your feet gladly threw.
(25) For, indeed, 'tis a sweet and peculiar pleasure,
(And blissful is he who such happiness finds,)
To possess but a span of the hour of leisure,
In elegant, pure, and aerial minds.
The unannounced intention of the speaker is to .
While the speaker does not explicitly speak about his intentions, it can be inferred from the romantic language that he feels deeply for the unnamed person of interest (we assume a woman, though it is not stated.) Given the lack of support for the other answers in the passage, the audience can best infer his intention is to further this relationship.
While the speaker does not explicitly speak about his intentions, it can be inferred from the romantic language that he feels deeply for the unnamed person of interest (we assume a woman, though it is not stated.) Given the lack of support for the other answers in the passage, the audience can best infer his intention is to further this relationship.
Compare your answer with the correct one above
Adapted from "The Author to Her Book" by Anne Bradstreet (1678)
Thou ill-form’d offspring of my feeble brain,
Who after birth didst by my side remain,
Till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than true,
Who thee abroad, expos’d to public view,
Made thee in rags, halting to th’ press to trudge,
Where errors were not lessened (all may judge).
At thy return my blushing was not small,
My rambling brat (in print) should mother call,
I cast thee by as one unfit for light,
Thy visage was so irksome in my sight;
Yet being mine own, at length affection would
Thy blemishes amend, if so I could:
I wash’d thy face, but more defects I saw,
And rubbing off a spot, still made a flaw.
I stretched thy joints to make thee even feet,
Yet still thou run’st more hobling then is meet;
In better dress to trim thee was my mind,
But nought save home-spun cloth, i’ th’ house I find.
In this array ’mongst vulgars mayst thou roam.
In critics' hands, beware thou dost not come;
And take thy way where yet thou art not known,
If for thy father askt, say, thou hadst none:
And for thy mother, she alas is poor,
Which caus’d her thus to send thee out of door.
In the lines "In better dress to trim thee was my mind, / But nought save homespun cloth i' th' house I find," Bradstreet is using the image of dressing a child in better clothes to symbolize
.
Adapted from "The Author to Her Book" by Anne Bradstreet (1678)
Thou ill-form’d offspring of my feeble brain,
Who after birth didst by my side remain,
Till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than true,
Who thee abroad, expos’d to public view,
Made thee in rags, halting to th’ press to trudge,
Where errors were not lessened (all may judge).
At thy return my blushing was not small,
My rambling brat (in print) should mother call,
I cast thee by as one unfit for light,
Thy visage was so irksome in my sight;
Yet being mine own, at length affection would
Thy blemishes amend, if so I could:
I wash’d thy face, but more defects I saw,
And rubbing off a spot, still made a flaw.
I stretched thy joints to make thee even feet,
Yet still thou run’st more hobling then is meet;
In better dress to trim thee was my mind,
But nought save home-spun cloth, i’ th’ house I find.
In this array ’mongst vulgars mayst thou roam.
In critics' hands, beware thou dost not come;
And take thy way where yet thou art not known,
If for thy father askt, say, thou hadst none:
And for thy mother, she alas is poor,
Which caus’d her thus to send thee out of door.
In the lines "In better dress to trim thee was my mind, / But nought save homespun cloth i' th' house I find," Bradstreet is using the image of dressing a child in better clothes to symbolize .
Given the context of these lines and the double-meaning of trim, meaning both "to dress" and "to cut in length," the image of dressing a child in better clothes probably refers to her desire to revise the poems into better forms and her inability to do so (because she has only "homespun cloth").
Given the context of these lines and the double-meaning of trim, meaning both "to dress" and "to cut in length," the image of dressing a child in better clothes probably refers to her desire to revise the poems into better forms and her inability to do so (because she has only "homespun cloth").
Compare your answer with the correct one above
Adapted from Act 1, Scene 1, ln. 78-119 of The Tragical History of Dr. Faustus by Christopher Marlowe (1604) in Vol. XIX, Part 2 of The Harvard Classics (1909-1914)
FAUST: How am I glutted with conceit of this!
Shall I make spirits fetch me what I please,
Resolve me of all ambiguities,
Perform what desperate enterprise I will?
I’ll have them fly to India for gold,
Ransack the ocean for orient pearl,
And search all corners of the new-found world
For pleasant fruits and princely delicates;
I’ll have them read me strange philosophy
And tell the secrets of all foreign kings;
I’ll have them wall all Germany with brass,
And make swift Rhine circle fair Wittenberg;
I’ll have them fill the public schools with silk,
Wherewith the students shall be bravely clad;
I’ll levy soldiers with the coin they bring,
And chase the Prince of Parma from our land,
And reign sole king of all the provinces;
Yea, stranger engines for the brunt of war
Than was the fiery keel at Antwerp’s bridge,
I’ll make my servile spirits to invent.
\[Enter VALDES and CORNELIUS\]
Come, German Valdes and Cornelius,
And make me blest with your sage conference.
Valdes, sweet Valdes, and Cornelius,
Know that your words have won me at the last
To practice magic and concealed arts:
Yet not your words only, but mine own fantasy
That will receive no object, for my head
But ruminates on necromantic skill.
Philosophy is odious and obscure,
Both law and physic are for petty wits;
Divinity is basest of the three,
Unpleasant, harsh, contemptible, and vile:
’Tis magic, magic, that hath ravish’d me.
Then, gentle friends, aid me in this attempt;
And I that have with concise syllogisms
Gravell’d the pastors of the German church,
And made the flowering pride of Wittenberg
Swarm to my problems, as the infernal spirits
On sweet Musaeigus, when he came to hell,
Will be as cunning as Agrippa was,
Whose shadows made all Europe honor him.
Which of the following is NOT a reasonable inference to draw about Faustus' feelings on his situation?
Adapted from Act 1, Scene 1, ln. 78-119 of The Tragical History of Dr. Faustus by Christopher Marlowe (1604) in Vol. XIX, Part 2 of The Harvard Classics (1909-1914)
FAUST: How am I glutted with conceit of this!
Shall I make spirits fetch me what I please,
Resolve me of all ambiguities,
Perform what desperate enterprise I will?
I’ll have them fly to India for gold,
Ransack the ocean for orient pearl,
And search all corners of the new-found world
For pleasant fruits and princely delicates;
I’ll have them read me strange philosophy
And tell the secrets of all foreign kings;
I’ll have them wall all Germany with brass,
And make swift Rhine circle fair Wittenberg;
I’ll have them fill the public schools with silk,
Wherewith the students shall be bravely clad;
I’ll levy soldiers with the coin they bring,
And chase the Prince of Parma from our land,
And reign sole king of all the provinces;
Yea, stranger engines for the brunt of war
Than was the fiery keel at Antwerp’s bridge,
I’ll make my servile spirits to invent.
\[Enter VALDES and CORNELIUS\]
Come, German Valdes and Cornelius,
And make me blest with your sage conference.
Valdes, sweet Valdes, and Cornelius,
Know that your words have won me at the last
To practice magic and concealed arts:
Yet not your words only, but mine own fantasy
That will receive no object, for my head
But ruminates on necromantic skill.
Philosophy is odious and obscure,
Both law and physic are for petty wits;
Divinity is basest of the three,
Unpleasant, harsh, contemptible, and vile:
’Tis magic, magic, that hath ravish’d me.
Then, gentle friends, aid me in this attempt;
And I that have with concise syllogisms
Gravell’d the pastors of the German church,
And made the flowering pride of Wittenberg
Swarm to my problems, as the infernal spirits
On sweet Musaeigus, when he came to hell,
Will be as cunning as Agrippa was,
Whose shadows made all Europe honor him.
Which of the following is NOT a reasonable inference to draw about Faustus' feelings on his situation?
The only inference that is not reasonable to draw about Faustus' feelings on his situation is that he must choose between earthly academic pursuits and the dark arts and that he feels ambivalent about the decision. While he is choosing between these two things, there is nothing in the speech to suggest that this choice is mandatory. Also, he expresses only excitement about his choice, not ambivalence.
The only inference that is not reasonable to draw about Faustus' feelings on his situation is that he must choose between earthly academic pursuits and the dark arts and that he feels ambivalent about the decision. While he is choosing between these two things, there is nothing in the speech to suggest that this choice is mandatory. Also, he expresses only excitement about his choice, not ambivalence.
Compare your answer with the correct one above
A bell rings in the hall; shortly afterwards the door is heard to open.
Enter NORA, humming a tune and in high spirits. She is in out-door dress and carries a number of parcels; these she lays on the table to the right. She leaves the outer door open after her, and through it is seen a PORTER who is carrying a Christmas Tree and a basket, which he gives to the MAID who has opened the door.)
Nora: Hide the Christmas Tree carefully, Helen. Be sure the children do not see it till this evening, when it is dressed. (To the PORTER, taking out her purse.) How much?
Porter: Sixpence.
Nora: There is a shilling. No, keep the change. (The PORTER thanks her, and goes out. NORA shuts the door. She is laughing to herself, as she takes off her hat and coat. She takes a packet of macaroons from her pocket and eats one or two; then goes cautiously to her husband's door and listens.) Yes, he is in. (Still humming, she goes to the table on the right.)
Helmer: (calls out from his room). Is that my little lark twittering out there?
Nora (busy opening some of the parcels): Yes, it is!
Helmer: Is it my little squirrel bustling about?
Nora: Yes!
Helmer: When did my squirrel come home?
Nora: Just now. (Puts the bag of macaroons into her pocket and wipes her mouth.) Come in here, Torvald, and see what I have bought.
Helmer: Don't disturb me. (A little later, he opens the door and looks into the room, pen in hand.) Bought, did you say? All these things? Has my little spendthrift been wasting money again?
Nora: Yes, but, Torvald, this year we really can let ourselves go a little. This is the first Christmas that we have not needed to economize.
Helmer: Still, you know, we can't spend money recklessly.
Nora: Yes, Torvald, we may be a wee bit more reckless now, mayn't we? Just a tiny wee bit! You are going to have a big salary and earn lots and lots of money.
Helmer: Yes, after the New Year; but then it will be a whole quarter before the salary is due.
Nora: Pooh! we can borrow till then.
(1879)
Based on the stage directions that begin this excerpt, which of the following is possible to infer about Nora?
A bell rings in the hall; shortly afterwards the door is heard to open.
Enter NORA, humming a tune and in high spirits. She is in out-door dress and carries a number of parcels; these she lays on the table to the right. She leaves the outer door open after her, and through it is seen a PORTER who is carrying a Christmas Tree and a basket, which he gives to the MAID who has opened the door.)
Nora: Hide the Christmas Tree carefully, Helen. Be sure the children do not see it till this evening, when it is dressed. (To the PORTER, taking out her purse.) How much?
Porter: Sixpence.
Nora: There is a shilling. No, keep the change. (The PORTER thanks her, and goes out. NORA shuts the door. She is laughing to herself, as she takes off her hat and coat. She takes a packet of macaroons from her pocket and eats one or two; then goes cautiously to her husband's door and listens.) Yes, he is in. (Still humming, she goes to the table on the right.)
Helmer: (calls out from his room). Is that my little lark twittering out there?
Nora (busy opening some of the parcels): Yes, it is!
Helmer: Is it my little squirrel bustling about?
Nora: Yes!
Helmer: When did my squirrel come home?
Nora: Just now. (Puts the bag of macaroons into her pocket and wipes her mouth.) Come in here, Torvald, and see what I have bought.
Helmer: Don't disturb me. (A little later, he opens the door and looks into the room, pen in hand.) Bought, did you say? All these things? Has my little spendthrift been wasting money again?
Nora: Yes, but, Torvald, this year we really can let ourselves go a little. This is the first Christmas that we have not needed to economize.
Helmer: Still, you know, we can't spend money recklessly.
Nora: Yes, Torvald, we may be a wee bit more reckless now, mayn't we? Just a tiny wee bit! You are going to have a big salary and earn lots and lots of money.
Helmer: Yes, after the New Year; but then it will be a whole quarter before the salary is due.
Nora: Pooh! we can borrow till then.
(1879)
Based on the stage directions that begin this excerpt, which of the following is possible to infer about Nora?
Of the provided answers, the only one that the initial stage directions provide enough information to confirm is that Nora is a member of the upper or upper-middle class. We can assume this based on the fact that she is returning home from shopping with an armful of parcels and enlists the help of both a porter and a maid. There is not enough information to infer that she grew up in a wealthy family, only that she is a part of one now. There is also no indication that she had an unhappy childhood or that she is unhappy in her marriage now. There is also no evidence in the initial stage directions that she is unpleasant to members of the lower classes, and in fact seems to be the opposite, tipping the porter generously.
Passage adapted from Henrik Ibsen's A Doll's House (1879)
Of the provided answers, the only one that the initial stage directions provide enough information to confirm is that Nora is a member of the upper or upper-middle class. We can assume this based on the fact that she is returning home from shopping with an armful of parcels and enlists the help of both a porter and a maid. There is not enough information to infer that she grew up in a wealthy family, only that she is a part of one now. There is also no indication that she had an unhappy childhood or that she is unhappy in her marriage now. There is also no evidence in the initial stage directions that she is unpleasant to members of the lower classes, and in fact seems to be the opposite, tipping the porter generously.
Passage adapted from Henrik Ibsen's A Doll's House (1879)
Compare your answer with the correct one above
Batter my heart (Holy Sonnet 14)
1 Batter my heart, three-person'd God; for you
2 As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
3 That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
4 Your force, to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
5 I, like an usurp'd town, to another due,
6 Labour to admit you, but O, to no end.
7 Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
8 But is captived, and proves weak or untrue.
9 Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain,
10 But am betroth'd unto your enemy;
11 Divorce me, untie, or break that knot again,
12 Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
13 Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
14 Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.
The "enemy" of line 10 is very probably .
Batter my heart (Holy Sonnet 14)
1 Batter my heart, three-person'd God; for you
2 As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;
3 That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
4 Your force, to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
5 I, like an usurp'd town, to another due,
6 Labour to admit you, but O, to no end.
7 Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
8 But is captived, and proves weak or untrue.
9 Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain,
10 But am betroth'd unto your enemy;
11 Divorce me, untie, or break that knot again,
12 Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
13 Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
14 Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.
The "enemy" of line 10 is very probably .
As the poet is addressing the Christians' God, the "three-person'd God" (line 1), the "enemy" of line 10 is very likely the devil who would be, according to Christians, the enemy of God.
As the poet is addressing the Christians' God, the "three-person'd God" (line 1), the "enemy" of line 10 is very likely the devil who would be, according to Christians, the enemy of God.
Compare your answer with the correct one above
1 Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
2 Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
3 Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
4 And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:
5 Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
6 And often is his gold complexion dimm’d;
7 And every fair from fair sometime declines,
8 By chance, or nature’s changing course untrimm’d;
9 But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
10 Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,
11 Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
12 When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st;
13 So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
14 So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
In line 13, the "eyes" that "can see" are very likely envisioned by the speaker to be used for
.
1 Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
2 Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
3 Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
4 And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:
5 Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
6 And often is his gold complexion dimm’d;
7 And every fair from fair sometime declines,
8 By chance, or nature’s changing course untrimm’d;
9 But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
10 Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,
11 Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
12 When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st;
13 So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
14 So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
In line 13, the "eyes" that "can see" are very likely envisioned by the speaker to be used for .
In line 13, the "eyes" that "can see" are very likely envisioned by the speaker to be used for reading his or her poetry, as it is the speaker's poetry (his or her "eternal lines to time" (line 12)), which are the source of the beloved's immortality.
In line 13, the "eyes" that "can see" are very likely envisioned by the speaker to be used for reading his or her poetry, as it is the speaker's poetry (his or her "eternal lines to time" (line 12)), which are the source of the beloved's immortality.
Compare your answer with the correct one above
Adapted from "The Author to Her Book" by Anne Bradstreet (1678)
Thou ill-form’d offspring of my feeble brain,
Who after birth didst by my side remain,
Till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than true,
Who thee abroad, expos’d to public view,
Made thee in rags, halting to th’ press to trudge,
Where errors were not lessened (all may judge).
At thy return my blushing was not small,
My rambling brat (in print) should mother call,
I cast thee by as one unfit for light,
Thy visage was so irksome in my sight;
Yet being mine own, at length affection would
Thy blemishes amend, if so I could:
I wash’d thy face, but more defects I saw,
And rubbing off a spot, still made a flaw.
I stretched thy joints to make thee even feet,
Yet still thou run’st more hobling then is meet;
In better dress to trim thee was my mind,
But nought save home-spun cloth, i’ th’ house I find.
In this array ’mongst vulgars mayst thou roam.
In critics' hands, beware thou dost not come;
And take thy way where yet thou art not known,
If for thy father askt, say, thou hadst none:
And for thy mother, she alas is poor,
Which caus’d her thus to send thee out of door.
The first two lines of this poem imply all but which of the following?
Adapted from "The Author to Her Book" by Anne Bradstreet (1678)
Thou ill-form’d offspring of my feeble brain,
Who after birth didst by my side remain,
Till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than true,
Who thee abroad, expos’d to public view,
Made thee in rags, halting to th’ press to trudge,
Where errors were not lessened (all may judge).
At thy return my blushing was not small,
My rambling brat (in print) should mother call,
I cast thee by as one unfit for light,
Thy visage was so irksome in my sight;
Yet being mine own, at length affection would
Thy blemishes amend, if so I could:
I wash’d thy face, but more defects I saw,
And rubbing off a spot, still made a flaw.
I stretched thy joints to make thee even feet,
Yet still thou run’st more hobling then is meet;
In better dress to trim thee was my mind,
But nought save home-spun cloth, i’ th’ house I find.
In this array ’mongst vulgars mayst thou roam.
In critics' hands, beware thou dost not come;
And take thy way where yet thou art not known,
If for thy father askt, say, thou hadst none:
And for thy mother, she alas is poor,
Which caus’d her thus to send thee out of door.
The first two lines of this poem imply all but which of the following?
The first two lines imply that Bradstreet feels her book (the "offspring") is "ill-formed" and the product of a "feeble mind," which indicates she did not think her writing was strong and did not want it seen by anyone else. The fact that it remained "by her side" after she wrote it indicates that she had no plans to publish it.
The first two lines imply that Bradstreet feels her book (the "offspring") is "ill-formed" and the product of a "feeble mind," which indicates she did not think her writing was strong and did not want it seen by anyone else. The fact that it remained "by her side" after she wrote it indicates that she had no plans to publish it.
Compare your answer with the correct one above
Adapted from "The Author to Her Book" by Anne Bradstreet (1678)
Thou ill-form’d offspring of my feeble brain,
Who after birth didst by my side remain,
Till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than true,
Who thee abroad, expos’d to public view,
Made thee in rags, halting to th’ press to trudge,
Where errors were not lessened (all may judge).
At thy return my blushing was not small,
My rambling brat (in print) should mother call,
I cast thee by as one unfit for light,
Thy visage was so irksome in my sight;
Yet being mine own, at length affection would
Thy blemishes amend, if so I could:
I wash’d thy face, but more defects I saw,
And rubbing off a spot, still made a flaw.
I stretched thy joints to make thee even feet,
Yet still thou run’st more hobling then is meet;
In better dress to trim thee was my mind,
But nought save home-spun cloth, i’ th’ house I find.
In this array ’mongst vulgars mayst thou roam.
In critics' hands, beware thou dost not come;
And take thy way where yet thou art not known,
If for thy father askt, say, thou hadst none:
And for thy mother, she alas is poor,
Which caus’d her thus to send thee out of door.
The third and fourth lines of the poem imply all but which of the following?
Adapted from "The Author to Her Book" by Anne Bradstreet (1678)
Thou ill-form’d offspring of my feeble brain,
Who after birth didst by my side remain,
Till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than true,
Who thee abroad, expos’d to public view,
Made thee in rags, halting to th’ press to trudge,
Where errors were not lessened (all may judge).
At thy return my blushing was not small,
My rambling brat (in print) should mother call,
I cast thee by as one unfit for light,
Thy visage was so irksome in my sight;
Yet being mine own, at length affection would
Thy blemishes amend, if so I could:
I wash’d thy face, but more defects I saw,
And rubbing off a spot, still made a flaw.
I stretched thy joints to make thee even feet,
Yet still thou run’st more hobling then is meet;
In better dress to trim thee was my mind,
But nought save home-spun cloth, i’ th’ house I find.
In this array ’mongst vulgars mayst thou roam.
In critics' hands, beware thou dost not come;
And take thy way where yet thou art not known,
If for thy father askt, say, thou hadst none:
And for thy mother, she alas is poor,
Which caus’d her thus to send thee out of door.
The third and fourth lines of the poem imply all but which of the following?
Nothing in these lines indicates that Bradstreet had any knowledge that her friends were publishing her book "abroad," and the fact that she charaterizes them as "less wise than true" indicates that she found their actions unwise and deceitful.
Nothing in these lines indicates that Bradstreet had any knowledge that her friends were publishing her book "abroad," and the fact that she charaterizes them as "less wise than true" indicates that she found their actions unwise and deceitful.
Compare your answer with the correct one above
Adapted from "The Author to Her Book" by Anne Bradstreet (1678)
Thou ill-form’d offspring of my feeble brain,
Who after birth didst by my side remain,
Till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than true,
Who thee abroad, expos’d to public view,
Made thee in rags, halting to th’ press to trudge,
Where errors were not lessened (all may judge).
At thy return my blushing was not small,
My rambling brat (in print) should mother call,
I cast thee by as one unfit for light,
Thy visage was so irksome in my sight;
Yet being mine own, at length affection would
Thy blemishes amend, if so I could:
I wash’d thy face, but more defects I saw,
And rubbing off a spot, still made a flaw.
I stretched thy joints to make thee even feet,
Yet still thou run’st more hobling then is meet;
In better dress to trim thee was my mind,
But nought save home-spun cloth, i’ th’ house I find.
In this array ’mongst vulgars mayst thou roam.
In critics' hands, beware thou dost not come;
And take thy way where yet thou art not known,
If for thy father askt, say, thou hadst none:
And for thy mother, she alas is poor,
Which caus’d her thus to send thee out of door.
Lines 7-10 imply all but which of the following?
Adapted from "The Author to Her Book" by Anne Bradstreet (1678)
Thou ill-form’d offspring of my feeble brain,
Who after birth didst by my side remain,
Till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than true,
Who thee abroad, expos’d to public view,
Made thee in rags, halting to th’ press to trudge,
Where errors were not lessened (all may judge).
At thy return my blushing was not small,
My rambling brat (in print) should mother call,
I cast thee by as one unfit for light,
Thy visage was so irksome in my sight;
Yet being mine own, at length affection would
Thy blemishes amend, if so I could:
I wash’d thy face, but more defects I saw,
And rubbing off a spot, still made a flaw.
I stretched thy joints to make thee even feet,
Yet still thou run’st more hobling then is meet;
In better dress to trim thee was my mind,
But nought save home-spun cloth, i’ th’ house I find.
In this array ’mongst vulgars mayst thou roam.
In critics' hands, beware thou dost not come;
And take thy way where yet thou art not known,
If for thy father askt, say, thou hadst none:
And for thy mother, she alas is poor,
Which caus’d her thus to send thee out of door.
Lines 7-10 imply all but which of the following?
There's nothing in these lines to indicate that Bradstreet immediately acknowledged authorship of the book, given that she finds it "rambling" and in need of tighter editing, and the fact that she "blushes" at its publication implies she does not feel the book was ready to be seen by the public.
There's nothing in these lines to indicate that Bradstreet immediately acknowledged authorship of the book, given that she finds it "rambling" and in need of tighter editing, and the fact that she "blushes" at its publication implies she does not feel the book was ready to be seen by the public.
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Adapted from "The Author to Her Book" by Anne Bradstreet (1678)
Thou ill-form’d offspring of my feeble brain,
Who after birth didst by my side remain,
Till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than true,
Who thee abroad, expos’d to public view,
Made thee in rags, halting to th’ press to trudge,
Where errors were not lessened (all may judge).
At thy return my blushing was not small,
My rambling brat (in print) should mother call,
I cast thee by as one unfit for light,
Thy visage was so irksome in my sight;
Yet being mine own, at length affection would
Thy blemishes amend, if so I could:
I wash’d thy face, but more defects I saw,
And rubbing off a spot, still made a flaw.
I stretched thy joints to make thee even feet,
Yet still thou run’st more hobling then is meet;
In better dress to trim thee was my mind,
But nought save home-spun cloth, i’ th’ house I find.
In this array ’mongst vulgars mayst thou roam.
In critics' hands, beware thou dost not come;
And take thy way where yet thou art not known,
If for thy father askt, say, thou hadst none:
And for thy mother, she alas is poor,
Which caus’d her thus to send thee out of door.
Lines 11–14 imply all but which of the following?
Adapted from "The Author to Her Book" by Anne Bradstreet (1678)
Thou ill-form’d offspring of my feeble brain,
Who after birth didst by my side remain,
Till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than true,
Who thee abroad, expos’d to public view,
Made thee in rags, halting to th’ press to trudge,
Where errors were not lessened (all may judge).
At thy return my blushing was not small,
My rambling brat (in print) should mother call,
I cast thee by as one unfit for light,
Thy visage was so irksome in my sight;
Yet being mine own, at length affection would
Thy blemishes amend, if so I could:
I wash’d thy face, but more defects I saw,
And rubbing off a spot, still made a flaw.
I stretched thy joints to make thee even feet,
Yet still thou run’st more hobling then is meet;
In better dress to trim thee was my mind,
But nought save home-spun cloth, i’ th’ house I find.
In this array ’mongst vulgars mayst thou roam.
In critics' hands, beware thou dost not come;
And take thy way where yet thou art not known,
If for thy father askt, say, thou hadst none:
And for thy mother, she alas is poor,
Which caus’d her thus to send thee out of door.
Lines 11–14 imply all but which of the following?
These lines indicate that Bradstreet did not feel her revisions improved the book, which she saw as hers and therefore necessary to revise. The fact that she says she saw more "spots" after "wash\[ing its\] face" indicates that she both found more errors and that she felt her revisions made the poems worse somehow.
These lines indicate that Bradstreet did not feel her revisions improved the book, which she saw as hers and therefore necessary to revise. The fact that she says she saw more "spots" after "wash\[ing its\] face" indicates that she both found more errors and that she felt her revisions made the poems worse somehow.
Compare your answer with the correct one above
Thou ill-form’d offspring of my feeble brain,
Who after birth didst by my side remain,
Till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than true,
Who thee abroad, expos’d to public view,
Made thee in rags, halting to th’ press to trudge,
Where errors were not lessened (all may judge).
At thy return my blushing was not small,
My rambling brat (in print) should mother call,
I cast thee by as one unfit for light,
Thy visage was so irksome in my sight;
Yet being mine own, at length affection would
Thy blemishes amend, if so I could:
I wash’d thy face, but more defects I saw,
And rubbing off a spot, still made a flaw.
I stretched thy joints to make thee even feet,
Yet still thou run’st more hobling then is meet;
In better dress to trim thee was my mind,
But nought save home-spun cloth, i’ th’ house I find.
In this array ’mongst vulgars mayst thou roam.
In critics' hands, beware thou dost not come;
And take thy way where yet thou art not known,
If for thy father askt, say, thou hadst none:
And for thy mother, she alas is poor,
Which caus’d her thus to send thee out of door.
The underlined lines "I stretched thy joints to make thee even feet, / Yet still thou run'st more hobbling than is meet" most likely refers to what?
Thou ill-form’d offspring of my feeble brain,
Who after birth didst by my side remain,
Till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than true,
Who thee abroad, expos’d to public view,
Made thee in rags, halting to th’ press to trudge,
Where errors were not lessened (all may judge).
At thy return my blushing was not small,
My rambling brat (in print) should mother call,
I cast thee by as one unfit for light,
Thy visage was so irksome in my sight;
Yet being mine own, at length affection would
Thy blemishes amend, if so I could:
I wash’d thy face, but more defects I saw,
And rubbing off a spot, still made a flaw.
I stretched thy joints to make thee even feet,
Yet still thou run’st more hobling then is meet;
In better dress to trim thee was my mind,
But nought save home-spun cloth, i’ th’ house I find.
In this array ’mongst vulgars mayst thou roam.
In critics' hands, beware thou dost not come;
And take thy way where yet thou art not known,
If for thy father askt, say, thou hadst none:
And for thy mother, she alas is poor,
Which caus’d her thus to send thee out of door.
The underlined lines "I stretched thy joints to make thee even feet, / Yet still thou run'st more hobbling than is meet" most likely refers to what?
The word "feet" is the clue here: the meter of poems is measured in metrical feet, different combinations of stressed and unstressed syllables, and here, Bradstreet is using the image of stretching the "joints" of her "offspring" to even up the meter.
Passage adapted from "The Author to Her Book" by Anne Bradstreet (1678)
The word "feet" is the clue here: the meter of poems is measured in metrical feet, different combinations of stressed and unstressed syllables, and here, Bradstreet is using the image of stretching the "joints" of her "offspring" to even up the meter.
Passage adapted from "The Author to Her Book" by Anne Bradstreet (1678)
Compare your answer with the correct one above
Adapted from "The Author to Her Book" by Anne Bradstreet (1678)
Thou ill-form’d offspring of my feeble brain,
Who after birth didst by my side remain,
Till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than true,
Who thee abroad, expos’d to public view,
Made thee in rags, halting to th’ press to trudge,
Where errors were not lessened (all may judge).
At thy return my blushing was not small,
My rambling brat (in print) should mother call,
I cast thee by as one unfit for light,
Thy visage was so irksome in my sight;
Yet being mine own, at length affection would
Thy blemishes amend, if so I could:
I wash’d thy face, but more defects I saw,
And rubbing off a spot, still made a flaw.
I stretched thy joints to make thee even feet,
Yet still thou run’st more hobling then is meet;
In better dress to trim thee was my mind,
But nought save home-spun cloth, i’ th’ house I find.
In this array ’mongst vulgars mayst thou roam.
In critics' hands, beware thou dost not come;
And take thy way where yet thou art not known,
If for thy father askt, say, thou hadst none:
And for thy mother, she alas is poor,
Which caus’d her thus to send thee out of door.
The lines "In critic's hands beware thou dost not come, / And take thy way where yet thou art not known" implies all but which of the following?
Adapted from "The Author to Her Book" by Anne Bradstreet (1678)
Thou ill-form’d offspring of my feeble brain,
Who after birth didst by my side remain,
Till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than true,
Who thee abroad, expos’d to public view,
Made thee in rags, halting to th’ press to trudge,
Where errors were not lessened (all may judge).
At thy return my blushing was not small,
My rambling brat (in print) should mother call,
I cast thee by as one unfit for light,
Thy visage was so irksome in my sight;
Yet being mine own, at length affection would
Thy blemishes amend, if so I could:
I wash’d thy face, but more defects I saw,
And rubbing off a spot, still made a flaw.
I stretched thy joints to make thee even feet,
Yet still thou run’st more hobling then is meet;
In better dress to trim thee was my mind,
But nought save home-spun cloth, i’ th’ house I find.
In this array ’mongst vulgars mayst thou roam.
In critics' hands, beware thou dost not come;
And take thy way where yet thou art not known,
If for thy father askt, say, thou hadst none:
And for thy mother, she alas is poor,
Which caus’d her thus to send thee out of door.
The lines "In critic's hands beware thou dost not come, / And take thy way where yet thou art not known" implies all but which of the following?
"Take thy way" is an older way of saying "be careful," so in essence Bradstreet is warning her book to be careful with strangers (i.e., new readers in places where her work is not known) and critics.
"Take thy way" is an older way of saying "be careful," so in essence Bradstreet is warning her book to be careful with strangers (i.e., new readers in places where her work is not known) and critics.
Compare your answer with the correct one above
Not marble nor the gilded Monuments
1 Not marble nor the gilded monuments
2 Of princes shall outlive this pow'rful rhyme,
3 But you shall shine more bright in these conténts
4 Than unswept stone, besmeared with sluttish time.
5 When wasteful war shall statues overturn,
6 And broils root out the work of masonry,
7 Nor Mars his sword, nor war’s quick fire, shall burn
8 The living record of your memory.
9 'Gainst death and all oblivious enmity
10 Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room
11 Even in the eyes of all posterity
12 That wear this world out to the ending doom.
13 So till the judgment that yourself arise,
14 You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes.
(1609)
From “You live in this, and dwell in lovers’ eyes” (line 14), who are most likely the lovers?
Not marble nor the gilded Monuments
1 Not marble nor the gilded monuments
2 Of princes shall outlive this pow'rful rhyme,
3 But you shall shine more bright in these conténts
4 Than unswept stone, besmeared with sluttish time.
5 When wasteful war shall statues overturn,
6 And broils root out the work of masonry,
7 Nor Mars his sword, nor war’s quick fire, shall burn
8 The living record of your memory.
9 'Gainst death and all oblivious enmity
10 Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room
11 Even in the eyes of all posterity
12 That wear this world out to the ending doom.
13 So till the judgment that yourself arise,
14 You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes.
(1609)
From “You live in this, and dwell in lovers’ eyes” (line 14), who are most likely the lovers?
The “lovers” from “dwell in lovers’ eyes” (line 14) are those who read the poem. In line 14, the speaker claims that his beloved will “live in this” after their death. “This” (line 14) refers to the poem, as is suggested in “this pow’rful rhyme” (line 2) and “the living record of your memory / ’Gainst death and all oblivious enmity / Shall you pace forth; . . .” (lines 8-10). If the speaker’s beloved lives in the poem, she must also dwell in the eyes of those who read the poem because eyes must be used to read.
(Passage adapted from "Sonnet 55" by William Shakespeare)
The “lovers” from “dwell in lovers’ eyes” (line 14) are those who read the poem. In line 14, the speaker claims that his beloved will “live in this” after their death. “This” (line 14) refers to the poem, as is suggested in “this pow’rful rhyme” (line 2) and “the living record of your memory / ’Gainst death and all oblivious enmity / Shall you pace forth; . . .” (lines 8-10). If the speaker’s beloved lives in the poem, she must also dwell in the eyes of those who read the poem because eyes must be used to read.
(Passage adapted from "Sonnet 55" by William Shakespeare)
Compare your answer with the correct one above
1 'So careful of the type?' but no.
2 From scarped cliff and quarried stone
3 She cries, `A thousand types are gone:
4 I care for nothing, all shall go.
5 'Thou makest thine appeal to me:
6 I bring to life, I bring to death:
7 The spirit does but mean the breath:
8 I know no more.' And he, shall he,
9 Man, her last work, who seem'd so fair,
10 Such splendid purpose in his eyes,
11 Who roll'd the psalm to wintry skies,
12 Who built him fanes of fruitless prayer,
13 Who trusted God was love indeed
14 And love Creation's final law—
15 Tho' Nature, red in tooth and claw
16 With ravine, shriek'd against his creed—
17 Who loved, who suffer'd countless ills,
18 Who battled for the True, the Just,
19 Be blown about the desert dust,
20 Or seal'd within the iron hills?
21 No more? A monster then, a dream,
22 A discord. Dragons of the prime,
23 That tare each other in their slime,
24 Were mellow music match'd with him.
25 O life as futile, then, as frail!
26 O for thy voice to soothe and bless!
27 What hope of answer, or redress?
28 Behind the veil, behind the veil.
(1849)
In “I bring to life, I bring to death” (line 6), who is “I”?
1 'So careful of the type?' but no.
2 From scarped cliff and quarried stone
3 She cries, `A thousand types are gone:
4 I care for nothing, all shall go.
5 'Thou makest thine appeal to me:
6 I bring to life, I bring to death:
7 The spirit does but mean the breath:
8 I know no more.' And he, shall he,
9 Man, her last work, who seem'd so fair,
10 Such splendid purpose in his eyes,
11 Who roll'd the psalm to wintry skies,
12 Who built him fanes of fruitless prayer,
13 Who trusted God was love indeed
14 And love Creation's final law—
15 Tho' Nature, red in tooth and claw
16 With ravine, shriek'd against his creed—
17 Who loved, who suffer'd countless ills,
18 Who battled for the True, the Just,
19 Be blown about the desert dust,
20 Or seal'd within the iron hills?
21 No more? A monster then, a dream,
22 A discord. Dragons of the prime,
23 That tare each other in their slime,
24 Were mellow music match'd with him.
25 O life as futile, then, as frail!
26 O for thy voice to soothe and bless!
27 What hope of answer, or redress?
28 Behind the veil, behind the veil.
(1849)
In “I bring to life, I bring to death” (line 6), who is “I”?
In “I bring to life, I bring to death” (line 6), the "I" is Nature. Various lines in the poem support that the "I" is Nature. From line 3, the poet writes that "she cries" (line three), and the following six lines (lines 3-8) are in quotations, showing that "she" (line 3) says, "A thousand types are gone: / I care for nothing, all shall go. / 'Thou makest thine appeal to me: / I bring to life, I bring to death: / The spirit does but mean the breath: / I know no more.'" (lines 3-8). Line 15 also supports that Nature is the "she" from line 3. "Tho' Nature, red in tooth and claw" (line 15) shows Nature as ruthless, as did lines 3-8 when Nature proclaims to not care about the types, or species, that are gone.
(Passage adapted from "In Memorium A. H. H." by Alfred Lord Tennyson, LVI.1-28)
In “I bring to life, I bring to death” (line 6), the "I" is Nature. Various lines in the poem support that the "I" is Nature. From line 3, the poet writes that "she cries" (line three), and the following six lines (lines 3-8) are in quotations, showing that "she" (line 3) says, "A thousand types are gone: / I care for nothing, all shall go. / 'Thou makest thine appeal to me: / I bring to life, I bring to death: / The spirit does but mean the breath: / I know no more.'" (lines 3-8). Line 15 also supports that Nature is the "she" from line 3. "Tho' Nature, red in tooth and claw" (line 15) shows Nature as ruthless, as did lines 3-8 when Nature proclaims to not care about the types, or species, that are gone.
(Passage adapted from "In Memorium A. H. H." by Alfred Lord Tennyson, LVI.1-28)
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Adapted from Life and Remains of John Clare "The Northamptonshire Peasant Poet" by John Clare (1872, ed. J. L. Cherry)
I am! Yet what I am who cares, or knows?
My friends forsake me, like a memory lost.
I am the self-consumer of my woes,
They rise and vanish, an oblivious host,
Shadows of life, whose very soul is lost.
And yet I am—I live—though I am toss'd
Into the nothingness of scorn and noise.
Into the living sea of waking dream,
Where there is neither sense of life, nor joys,
But the huge shipwreck of my own esteem
And all that's dear. Even those I loved the best
Are strange—nay, they are stranger than the rest.
I long for scenes where man has never trod—
For scenes where woman never smiled or wept—
There to abide with my Creator, God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept,
Full of high thoughts, unborn. So let me lie,
The grass below; above, the vaulted sky.
What is implied by the underlined line?
Adapted from Life and Remains of John Clare "The Northamptonshire Peasant Poet" by John Clare (1872, ed. J. L. Cherry)
I am! Yet what I am who cares, or knows?
My friends forsake me, like a memory lost.
I am the self-consumer of my woes,
They rise and vanish, an oblivious host,
Shadows of life, whose very soul is lost.
And yet I am—I live—though I am toss'd
Into the nothingness of scorn and noise.
Into the living sea of waking dream,
Where there is neither sense of life, nor joys,
But the huge shipwreck of my own esteem
And all that's dear. Even those I loved the best
Are strange—nay, they are stranger than the rest.
I long for scenes where man has never trod—
For scenes where woman never smiled or wept—
There to abide with my Creator, God,
And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept,
Full of high thoughts, unborn. So let me lie,
The grass below; above, the vaulted sky.
What is implied by the underlined line?
We might be able to say “the author feels imprisoned” or “there are no unexplored places” if more information was given, but firstly, we must establish that there is a distinction between the author and the voice given in the poem, which should be identified as the “narrator.” We must not confuse “scene” for that of a play in this instance, as it is clear from the last line that the author means an instance rather than a dramatic scene. We also have no basis to call the author an adventurer. Therefore, we must say that none of these are correct answers.
We might be able to say “the author feels imprisoned” or “there are no unexplored places” if more information was given, but firstly, we must establish that there is a distinction between the author and the voice given in the poem, which should be identified as the “narrator.” We must not confuse “scene” for that of a play in this instance, as it is clear from the last line that the author means an instance rather than a dramatic scene. We also have no basis to call the author an adventurer. Therefore, we must say that none of these are correct answers.
Compare your answer with the correct one above