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Write an adaptation for an audience expecting a modern english answer ! shakespeare’s language: but soft, what light through yonder window breaks? it is the east and juliet is the sun! arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,who is already sick and pale with grief that thou her maid art far more fair than she.be not her maid, since she is envious; her vestal livery is but sick and green, and none but fools do wear it. cast it off.it is my lady, o, it is my love! o that she knew she were! she speaks, yet she says nothing; what of that? her eye discourses, i will answer it. i am too bold: 'tis not to me she speaks.two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, having some business, do entreat her eyesto twinkle in their spheres till they return.what if her eyes were there, they in her head? the brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,as daylight doth a lamp. her eyes in heaven would through the airy region stream so brightthat birds would sing and think it were not night.see how she leans her cheek upon her hand o that i were a glove upon that hand,that i might touch that cheek!

Which of the following characters from a midsummer night's dream is used as an allusion to earlier english poetry

Select the contred text in the passage which sentence in this excerpt from john galsworthy's narrative essay "gone" reflects his view that there is no afterlife? an old woman and mrs. herd's sister were in the sitting-room, they showed us to the crazy, narrow stairway. though we lived distant but four hundred yards of a crows flight, we had never seen mrs. herd before, for that is the way of things in this land of minding one's own business a slight dark girlish-looking woman, almost quite refined away, and with those eyes of the dying, where the spirit is coming through, as it only does when it knows that al is over except just the passing. she lay in a double bed with clean white sheets. a white-washed room, so low that the ceiling almost touched our heads, some flowers in a bow, the small lattice window open. though it was hot in there, it was better far than the rooms of most families in towns, living on a wage of twice as much, for here was no sign of defeat in decency or cleanliness. in her face, as in poor herd's, was that same strange minging of resigned despair and almost eager appeal, so terrible to disappoint. yet, trying not to disappoint it, one felt guilty of treachery: what was the good, the kindness in making this poor bird flutter still with hope against the bars, when fast prison had so surely closed in round her? but what else could we do? we could not give her those glib assurances that naive souls make so easily to others concerning their after state. and the night was so beautiful, so utterly glamourously beautiful, with its star-flowers, and its silence and its trees clothed in moonlight. all was tranquil as a dream of sleep. but it was long before our hearts wandering with poor herd, would let us remember that she had slipped away into so beautiful a dream