Vocabulary Test...

[passage-header]Read the poem and answer the question that follows:[/passage-header]Ye living lamps, by whose dear light
The nightingale does sit so late,
And studying all the summer night,
57300Her matchless songs does meditate;

Ye country comets, that 57381portend
No war nor prince's funeral,
Shining unto no 15171higher end
Than to presage the grass's fall;

Ye glowworms, whose 59681officious flame
To wandering mowers show the way,
That in the night have 48636lost their aim,
And after foolish fires do stray;

Your courteous light in vain you waste,
Since Juliana here is come,
For she my mind hath so displaced
That I shall never find my home.
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[passage-header]Read the passage and answer the question that follows:
[/passage-header]SIR EDWARD TRENCHARD: Good morning, Coyle, good morning (with affected ease). There is a chair, Coyle. (They sit.) So you see those infernal tradespeople are pretty troublesome.
COYLE: My agent's letter this morning announces that Walter and Brass have got 69978judgement and execution on their amount for repairing your townhouse last season. Boquet and Barker announce their intention of taking this same course with the wine account. Handmarth is preparing for a settlement of his heavy demand for the stables. Then there is Temper for pictures and other things and Miss Florence Trenchard's account with Madame Pompon, and-
SIR EDWARD: 85932Confound it, why harass me with details, these 42791infernal particulars? Have you made out the total?
COYLE: Four thousand, eight hundred and thirty pounds, nine shilling and sixpence.
SIR EDWARD: Well, of course, we must find means of settling this 72231extortion.
COYLE: Yes, Sir Edward, if possible.

SIR EDWARD: If possible?
COYLE: I, as your agent, must stoop to detail, you must allow me to repeat, if possible.

SIR EDWARD: Why, you don't say there will be any difficulty in raising the money?
COYLE: What means would you suggest, Sir Edward?

SIR EDWARD: That, sir, is tour business.
COYLE: A foretaste on the interest on the Fanhille & Ellenthrope mortgages, you are aware both are in the arrears. The mortgagees, in fact, write here to announce their intentions to foreclose. (Shows papers.)

SIR EDWARD: Curse your 59501impudence, pay them off.
COYLE: How, Sir Edward?

SIR EDWARD: Confound it, sir, which of us is the agent? Am I to find you brains for your own business?
COYLE: No, Sir Edward, I can furnish the brains, but what I ask of you is to furnish the money.

SIR EDWARD: There must be money somewhere, I came into possession of one of the finest properties in Hampshire only twenty-six years ago, and now you mean to tell me I can't raise 4,000 pounds?
COYLE: The fact is distressing, Sir Edward, but so it is.
SIR EDWARD: There's the Ravensdale property 82233unencumbered.

COYLE: There, Sir Edward, you are under a mistake. The Ravensdale property is deeply encumbered, to nearly its full value.
SIR EDWARD(Springing up.): Good heavens.
COYLE: I have found among my father's papers a mortgage of that very property to him.

SIR EDWARD: To your father! My father's agent? Sir, do you know that if this be true I am something like a beggar, and your father something like a thief.
COYLE: I see the first plainly, Sir Edward, but do not the second.
SIR EDWARD: Do you forget, sir, that your father was a charity boy, fed, clothed by my father?

SIR EDWARD: And do you mean to tell me, sir, that your father repaid that kindness by robbing his benefactor?
COYLE: Certainly not, but by advancing money to that benefactor when he wanted it, and by taking the 17056security of one of his benefactor's estates as any prudent man would under the circumstances. 

SIR EDWARD: Why, then, sir, the benefactor's property is yours.
COYLE: I see one means, at least, of keeping the Ravensdale estate in the family.

SIR EDWARD: What is it?
COYLE: By marrying your daughter to the mortgagee.

SIR EDWARD: To you?
COYLE: I am prepared to settle the estate of Miss Trenchard the day she becomes Mrs. Richard Coyle.

SIR EDWARD (Springing up.): You insolent scoundrel, how dare you insult me in my own house, sir. Leave it, sir, or I will have you kicked out by my servants.
COYLE: I never take an angry man at his word, Sir Edward. Give a few moments reflection to my offer. You can have me kicked out afterwards.

SIR EDWARD: (Pacing Stage): 43305A beggar, Sir Edward Trenchard a beggar, see my children reduced to labor for their bread, to misery perhaps; but the alternative, Florence detests him, still the match would save her, at least, from ruin. He might take the family name, I might retrench, retire, to the continent for a few years. Florence's health might serve as a pretense. Repugnant as the alternative is, yet it deserves consideration54806.
COYLE: (who has watched.): Now, Sir Edward, shall I ring for the servants to kick me out?
[passage-footer]The extract is from Our American Cousin, by Tom Taylor.[/passage-footer]

[passage-header]Enter LORD MAYOR (Sir Roger Otley) and EARL OF LINCOLN.[/passage-header]LINC: My Lord Mayor, you have 87763sundry times
Feasted myself, and many courtiers more; [passage-footer]
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[passage-header]Read the passage given below and answer the question that follows. [/passage-header]    There comes to the house of Yen Chow a Chinese merchant of wealth and influence. His eyes dwell often upon Ah Leen. He whispers to her father. Yen Chow puffs his pipe and muses, assuredly a 50231great slight has been put upon his family. A divorce would show proper pride. It was not the Chinese way, but was not the old order passing away and the new order taking its place? Aye, even in China, the old country that had seemed as if it would ever remain old. He speaks to Ah Leen.
   "Nay, father, nay," she returns. "Thou hast the power to send my love away from me, but thou canst not compel me to hold out my arms to another."
   "But," protests her mother, "thy lover hath forgotten thee. Another hath borne him a child."
    A flame rushes over Ah Leen's face; then she 42349becomes white as a water lily. She plucks a leaf of scented geranium, crushes it between her fingers and casts it away. The 21728perfume clings to the hands, she lays on her mother's bosom.
   "Thus," says she, "the fragrance of my crushed love will ever cling to Ming Hoan."
    It is evening. The electric lights are shining through the vines. Out of the gloom beyond their radius comes a man. The American girl, seated in a quiet corner of the veranda, sees his face. It is eager and the eyes are full of love and fate. Then she sees Ah Leen. Tired of women's gossip, the girl has come to gaze upon the moon, hanging in the sky above her like a pale yellow pearl.
   There is a cry from the approaching man. It is echoed by the girl. In a moment she is leaning upon his breast.
   "Ah!" she cries, raising her head and looking into his eyes. "I knew that though another had bound you by human ties, to me you were linked by my love divine."
   "Another! Human ties!" exclaims the young man. He exclaims without explaining---for the sins of parents must not be uncovered---why there has been silence between them for so long. Then he lifts her face to his and gently reproaches her. "Ah Leen, you have dwelt only upon your love for me. Did I not bid thee, 'Forget not to remember that I love thee!'"
   The American girl steals away. The happy Ming Hoan is unaware that as she flits lightly by him and his bride she is repeating to herself his words, and hoping that it is not too late to send to someone a message of recall.
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[passage-header]Read the following first-person passage and answer the question that follow.
[/passage-header]   Call me Ishmael. Some years ago - never mind how long precisely - having little or no money in my purse, I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the 83801spleen, and regulating the circulation. 19371Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping me into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off-then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can49547.
[passage-footer](1851)
This passage is from the opening lines of one of the great classics, Moby Dick, by Herman Melville.[/passage-footer]