ENGLISH LEARNING

  THE TRIAL SCENE FROM THE MERCHANT OF VENICE THE CHARACTERS: Antonio : a merchant of Venice Shylock : a money lender Bassanio : Antonio's friend Portia : Bassanio's wife Balthazar : Portia in disguise as a judge Gratiano : Bassanio's friend Nerissa : Portia's maid Duke : The Chief Justice of the Court The story so far: Antonio, a merchant of Venice, borrowed money from his enemy Shylock to help his friend  Bassanio get married to Portia, a beautiful and intelligent lady. For this he signed an unusual kind of bond. This bond was that if Antonio could not return the mone??y on time, Shylock could cut a pound of flesh from Antonio's chest. Antonio was unable to pay back the money on time, so now he is facing a trial. Now read what happens in the trial scene. THE TRIAL SCENE DUKE: But Shylock, Bassanio has brought twice the money. BASSANIO: No, my Lord, not just twice. I have brought three times the money; and I am prepared to pay him four times or five times as much a

  THE PHOTO ALBUM  Ravi and Puja’s grandmother lived in Pelling. She was a retired teacher. The children used to visit her every winter vacation. One of the best things about grandmother was that you could talk to her about everything. Grandmother’s hobby was collecting old photographs. She had many albums with photographs of the family and friends from her childhood days. Her favourite photographs were those of her grandchildren. She had pasted the photographs carefully, with notes at the side of each. It was the story of her life. During their holidays, the grandchildren loved looking through the photographs. Grandmother made all the photographs come to life by telling the stories behind all the photographs. One sunny winter morning, Ravi asked her, ‘Grandma, who is this boy? He looks almost like me.’ Grandmother: Don’t you recognize him? It is your father when he was in school! Puja: Is this Papa? Grandmother: Yes, Ravi looks exactly like him at that age. Puja: Does this mean Ravi w

  THE MARATHON OF HOPE Terry Fox was born in 1958 in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada. When he was ten years old the family moved to Port Coquitlam, British Columbia. There, Terry grew up with his brothers, Fred and Darrell and his sister, Judith. They were a close, loving family. Terry thought of himself as an average guy. Yes, he was average in every way but one. Terry loved a challenge. Once he started something, he simply would not give up until he had seen it through.   Terry set himself many challenges as he was growing up. Basketball was one of them. Terry was small for his age, but he was determined to make it to the school team. One day Terry and his friend, Doug Alward, were having a chat after school. Terry suddenly jumped up. ‘Come on, Doug,’ he said. ‘Enough of this sitting around. Let’s go practice some basketball shots before dinner.’ ‘By the way,’ Doug asked as they played, ‘What did the coach say when you went for the tryouts today?’ ‘Ah, nothing much,’ mumbled

THE TROJAN HORSE According to a legend of Greece, Helen was the most beautiful woman that ever lived. She was the daughter of the Greek God Zeus born to a woman called Leda. It is said that in Greece there was no prince or ruler who did not want to marry her. She finally chose to marry Menelaus, King of Sparta. However, one day Paris, a prince from the far away city of Troy, came to visit the King and when he saw Helen he fell in love with her. Paris carried Helen away with him to Troy and Menelaus distracted with grief, begged the warriors of Greece to join him in trying to get her back. His brother Agamemnon, King of the splendid city of Mycenae joined him along with many others such as Achilles, the mightiest fighter of all, the bold Diomedes, the strong but slow witted Ajax and the clever Ulysses who was always ready with cunning plots when force of arms failed. There was the old experienced warrior Nester, too, who was looked upon for his experience and advice. The Greeks se

  The Road Not Taken   This well - known poem is about making choices, and the choices that shapes us. Robert Frost is an American poet who writes simply, but insightfully, about common, ordinary experiences. Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference. ROBERT FROST GLOSSARY  diverged : separated and took a different