They pass through the great gate in the grim high wall. The young man talks
for them, and it is arranged. John Kumalo is taken to one room, and the
younger man goes with Stephen Kumalo to another. There the son is brought
to them.

They shake hands, indeed the old man takes his son's hand in both his                   (5)
own, and the hot tears fall fast upon them. The boy stands unhappy, there is
no gladness in his eyes. He twists his head from side to side, as though the
loose clothing is too tight for him.
– My child, my child.
– Yes, my father.                                                                                                        (10)
– And it is too late.

To this the boy makes no answer. As though he may find some hope in this
silence, the father presses him. Is it not too late? He asks. But there is no
answer. Persistently, almost eagerly, Is it not too late? he asks. The boy turns
his head from side to side, he meets the eyes of the young white man, and his      (15)
own retreat swiftly. My father, it is what my father says, he answers.

– I have searched in every place for you.
To that also no answer. The old man loosens his hands, and his son's hand
slips from them lifelessly.

[Book 1, Chapter 14]

1. Stephen Kumalo
2. Margaret Jarvis
3. Mr Carmichael
4. Theophilus Msimangu

1. lawyer who defends Absalom
2. reverend who helps Stephen
3. father of the accused
4. John Kumalo's former wife
5. mother of Arthur Jarvis

Could you not have been here, O Bishop, the day when I came back to
Ndotsheni? Would you not have seen that these people love me, although
I am old? Would you not have heard a child say, We are glad the umfundisi
is back; this other man we did not understand him? Would you take me away
just when new things are beginning, when there is milk for the children, and            (5)
the young demonstrator has come, and the sticks for the dam are planted in
the ground? The tears fill the eyes, and the eyes shut, and the tears are
forced out, and they fall on the new black suit, made for this confirmation with
the money of the beloved Msimangu. The old head is bowed, and the old man
sits there like a child, with not a word to be spoken.                                                   (10)
– Mr. Kumalo, says the Bishop gently, and then again, more loudly,
Mr. Kumalo.
– Sir. My lord.
– I am sorry to distress you. I am sorry to distress you. But would it not be
better if you went away?                                                                                             (15)
– It is what you say, my lord.

The Bishop sits forward in his chair, and rests his elbows upon his knees.
Mr. Kumalo, is it not true that the father of the murdered man is your
neighbour here in Ndotsheni? Mr. Jarvis?
– It is true, my lord.                                                                                                      (20)
– Then for that reason alone I think you should go.

[Book 3, Chapter 5]

'I burned it,' replied Jekyll, 'before I thought what I was about. But it bore
no postmark. The note was handed in.'

'Shall I keep this and sleep upon it?' asked Utterson.

'I wish you to judge for me entirely,' was the reply. 'I have lost confidence
in myself.'                                                                                                               (5)

'Well, I shall consider,' returned the lawyer. ─ 'And now one word more: it was
Hyde who dictated the terms in your will about that disappearance?'

The doctor seemed seized with a qualm of faintness; he shut his mouth
tight and nodded.

'I knew it,' said Utterson. 'He meant to murder you. You have had a fine              (10)
escape.'

'I have had what is far more to the purpose,' returned the doctor solemnly:
'I have had a lesson – O God, Utterson, what a lesson I have had!' And he
covered his face for a moment with his hands.

On his way out, the lawyer stopped and had a word or two with Poole. 'By          (15)
the by,' said he, 'there was a letter handed in to-day: what was the messenger
like?' But Poole was positive nothing had come except by post; 'and only
circulars by that,' he added.

This news sent off the visitor with his fears renewed.

[Incident of the letter]

1. Mr Poole
2. Sir Carew
3. Mr Bradshaw
4. Mr Utterson

1. a lawyer
2. a butler
3. a politician
4. a footman
5. a scientist

'Have you got it? He cried. 'Have you got it?' and so lively was his
impatience that he even laid his hand upon my arm and sought to shake me.

I put him back, conscious at his touch of a certain icy pang along my
blood. 'Come, sir,' said I. 'You forget that I have not yet the pleasure of your
acquaintance. Be seated, if you please.' And I showed him an example, and             (5)
sat down myself in my customary seat and with as fair an imitation of my
ordinary manner to a patient as the lateness of the hour, the nature of my
pre-occupation, and the horror I had of my visitor, would suffer me to muster.

'I beg your pardon, Dr Lanyon,' he replied civilly enough. 'What you say
is very well founded; and my impatience has shown its heels to my politeness.        (10)
I come here at the instance of your colleague, Dr Henry Jekyll, on a piece of
business of some moment; and I understood …' he paused and put his hand
to his throat, and I could see, in spite of his collected manner, that he was
wrestling against the approaches of the hysteria – 'I understood, a drawer …' 

[Dr Lanyon's narrative] 

LADY M:                                                   My husband!
MACBETH: I have done the deed. Didst thou not hear a noise?
LADY M: I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry.
                   Did you not speak?
MACBETH:           When?                                                                             (5)
LADY M:                        Now.
MACBETH:                           As I descended?
LADY M: Ay.
MACBETH: Hark!
                    Who lies i'th' second chamber?                                              (10)
LADY M:                                                    Donalbain.
MACBETH: (looking on his hands)                  This is a sorry sight.
LADY M: A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight.
MACBETH: There's one did laugh in's sleep, and one cried 'Murder!'
                   That they did wake each other. I stood and heard them.         (15)
                    But they did say their prayers, and addressed them
                     Again to sleep.
LADY M: There are two lodged together.
MACBETH: One cried 'God bless us!' and 'Amen!' the other,
                   As they had seen me with these hangman's hands.                (20)
                    Listening their fear, I could not say 'Amen',
                     When they did say 'God bless us!'
LADY M: Consider it not so deeply.
MACBETH: But wherefore could not I pronounce 'Amen'?
                     I had most need of blessing, and 'Amen'                               (25)
                    Stuck in my throat.
LADY M: These deeds must not be thought
                After these ways; so, it will make us mad. 

MACBETH:  Methought I heard a voice cry 'Sleep no more!
                    Macbeth does murder sleep' – the innocent sleep,                 (30)
                    Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleave of care,
                   The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath,
                    Balm of hurt minds, great Nature's second course,
                    Chief nourisher in life's feast-

[Act 2, Scene 2]

1. Donalbain
2. Duncan
3. Siward
4. Fleance

1. King of Scotland
2. son of Duncan
3. son of Banquo
4. Earl of Northumberland
5. King of England

DOCTOR: Do you mark that?
LADY M:   The Thane of Fife had a wife, where is she now? What,
                    will these hands ne'er be clean? No more o' that, my lord,
                   no more o' that; you mar all with this starting.
DOCTOR:  Go to, go to; you have known what you should not.                    (5)
GENTLEWOMAN:  She has spoke what she should not, I am sure 
                               of that. Heaven knows what she has known.
LADY M:  Here's the smell of the blood still; all the perfumes of
                Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh, oh, oh!
DOCTOR: What a sigh is there! The heart is sorely charged.                     (10)
GENTLEWOMAN:  I would not have such a heart in my bosom for the
                               dignity of the whole body.
DOCTOR:  Well, well, well!
GENTLEWOMAN:  Pray God it be, sir.
DOCTOR:  This disease is beyond my practice, yet I have known              (15)
                    those which have walked in their sleep who have died
                    holily in their beds.
LADY M:   Wash your hands; put on your night gown; look not so
                pale; I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried; he cannot come
                   out on's grave.                                                                          (20)
DOCTOR:  Even so?
LADY M:  To bed, to bed; there's knocking at the gate; come,
                 come, come, come, give me your hand. What's done
                 cannot be undone; to bed, to bed, to bed.
DOCTOR: Will she go now to bed?                                                             (25)
GENTLEWOMAN:  Directly.

[Act 5, Scene 1]

MR M:  No yet again. Not in this life, and most certainly not in this
             world where I find myself, will those wonderful words of
             Confucius ever be mine. Not even if I lived to be one hundred
             and seventy, will I end up with a calm, gentle Chinese heart like
             his.                                                                                                            (5)

    I wish I could. Believe me, I really wish I could. Because I am
    frightened of the one I've got. I don't get gentle promptings from
    it, my friends. I get heart attacks. When I walk out into those
    streets, and I see what is happening to my people, it jumps out
    and savages me like a wild beast. [Thumping his chest with a               (10)
    clenched fist] I've got a whole zoo in here, a mad zoo of hungry
    animals … and the keeper is frightened! All of them. Mad and
    savage! Look at me! I'm sweating today. I've been sweating for a
    week. Why? Because one of those animals, the one called Hope,
    has broken loose and is looking for food. Don't be fooled by its             (15)
    gentle name. It is as dangerous as Hate and Despair would be if
    they ever managed to break out. You think I'm exaggerating?
    Pushing my metaphor a little too far? Then I'd like to put you
    inside a black skin and ask you to keep Hope alive.

[Act 1, Scene 4] 

1. Mr Myalatya
2. Isabel Dyson
3. Mr Pienaar
4. Thami Mbikwana

1. a railway worker
2. the mayor of Camdeboo
3. a good hockey player
4. an English teacher
5. a good soccer player

THAMI:   [He nods] I'm going to join the movement. I want to be a fighter.
               I've been thinking about it for a long time. Now I know it's the
               right thing to do. I don't want to end up being one of the mob that
               killed Mr M … but that will happen to me if I stayed here.
ISABEL:  Oh, Thami.                                                                                                  (5)
THAMI:  I know I'm doing the right thing. Believe me.
ISABEL: I'll try.
THAMI:  And you?
ISABEL:  I don't know what to do with myself, Thami. All I know is that I'm
               frightened of losing him. He's only been dead four days and I                  (10)
                think I'm already starting to forget what he looked like. But the
                worst thing is that there's nowhere for me to go and … you know
               … just be near him. That's so awful. I got my father to phone the
              police but they said there wasn't enough left of him to justify a
              grave. What there was has been disposed of in a 'Christian                      (15)
              manner'. So where do I go? The burnt-out ruins of the school?
              I couldn't face that.
THAMI: Get your father or somebody to drive you to the top of the
             Wapadsberg Pass. It's on the road to Cradock.
ISABEL: I know it.                                                                                                     (20)
THAMI:  It was a very special place for him. He told me that it was there
                where it all started.

[Act 2, Scene 4]

Days passed, and as more children saw the doll's house, the fame of it
spread. It became the one subject, the rage. The one question was, 'Have you
seen Burnells' doll's house? Oh, ain't it lovely!' 'Haven't you seen it? Oh, I say!'

Even the dinner hour was given up to talking about it. The little girls sat                        (5)
under the pines eating their thick mutton sandwiches and big slabs of johnny
cake spread with butter. While always, as near as they could get, sat the
Kelveys, our Else holding on to Lil, listening too, while they chewed their jam
sandwiches out of a newspaper soaked with large red blobs.

'Mother,' said Kezia, 'can't I ask the Kelveys just once?'                                       (10)
'Certainly not, Kezia.'
'But why not?'
'Run away, Kezia; you know quite well why not.'

At last everybody had seen it except them. On that day the subject rather
flagged. It was the dinner hour. The children stood together under the pine                 (15)
trees, and suddenly, as they looked at the Kelveys eating out of their paper,
always by themselves, always listening, they wanted to be horrid to them.
Emmie Cole started the whisper.

'Lil Kelvey's going to be a servant when she grows up.'
'O-oh, how awful!' said Isabel Burnell, and she made eyes at Emmie.                  (20)

1. Mrs Hay
2. Else Kelvey
3. Lena Logan
4. Mrs Kelvey

1. tiny and quiet
2. rude and discriminating
3. generous and kind
4. lazy and disobedient
5. humble and hardworking

Molly jumped up, let a scream out of her, and hurled the basket of
mending at him.

'Stop it! I told you I don't want a fur coat! And you don't want me to get a
fur coat! You're too mean, that's what it is! And, like all the Irish, you have the
peasant streak in you. You're all alike, every bloody wan of ye. Keep your                   (5)
rotten fur coat. I never wanted it ...'

And she ran from the room sobbing with fury and disappointment.

'Mean?' gasped Maquire to himself. 'To think that anybody could say
that I ... Mean!'

She burst open the door to sob:                                                                           (10)

'I'll go to the garden party in a mackintosh. And I hope that'll satisfy you!'
and ran out again.

He sat miserably at his table, cold with anger. He murmured the hateful
word over and over, and wondered could there be any truth in it. He added
ten yards to the pier. He reduced the ten to five, and then, seeing what he had         (15)
done, swept the whole thing off the table.

It took them three days to make it up. She had hit him below the belt and
they both knew it. On the fourth morning she found a cheque for a hundred
and fifty pounds on her dressing table. 

Captive − Francis Carey Slater
Lament of a sick Xhosa mine-labourer in a compound hospital

1. As a wild bird caught in a slip-knot snare –
2. The plaited tail-hairs of a dun-coloured cow,
3. Almost invisible –
4. So, tethered in the toils of fever, do I lie
5. And burn and shiver while I listen to the buzzing
6. Of flies that flutter vainly
7. Against cold, hard, deceiving window-panes:
8. Like them would I escape, and escaping hasten
9. To my home that shines in a valley afar,
10. My home – brightest tooth in the jaws of distance.
    
    
11. There, now, the cows I love are feeding
12. In some quiet sun-washed vale;
13. Their lazy shadows drink the sunlight
14. Rippling on the grasses;
15. There, through the long day, girls and women
16. Among the mealies chant and hoe,
17. Their swinging hoes are like the glitter
18. Of sunshine on water;
19. There, now, shouting, happy herdboys,
20. While they watch the cattle browse,
21. Are busy moulding mimic cattle
22. From clay moist and yellow.
    
    
23. There, when the sun has folded his wings that dazzle,
24. And has sunken to his hidden nest beyond the hills,
25. All shall group together gaily, around the crackling fires,
26. And chew the juicy cud of gathered day;
27. And greybeards shall tell stories of ancient battles,
28. And cattle-races of the days of old,
29. Of hunters, bold and fearless, who faced the lion's thunder
30. And stalked the lightning leopard to his lair.
31. - But here I burn and shiver and listen to the buzzing
32. Of flies against deceiving window-panes. 

Still I rise − Maya Angelou

1. You may write me down in history
2. With your bitter, twisted lies,
3. You may tread me in the very dirt
4. But still, like dust, I'll rise.
   
   
5. Does my sassiness upset you?
6. Why are you beset with gloom?
7. 'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
8. Pumping in my living room.
   
   
9. Just like moons and like suns,
10. With the certainty of tides,
11. Just like hopes springing high,
12. Still I'll rise.
    
    
13. Did you want to see me broken?
14. Bowed head and lowered eyes?
15. Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
16. Weakened by my soulful cries?
    
    
17. Does my haughtiness offend you?
18. Don't you take it awful hard
19. 'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
20. Diggin' in my own backyard.
    
    
21. You may shoot me with your words,
22. You may cut me with your eyes,
23. You may kill me with your hatefulness,
24. But still, like air, I'll rise.
    
    
25. Does my sexiness upset you?
26. Does it come as a surprise
27. That I dance like I've got diamonds
28. At the meeting of my thighs?
    
    
29. Out of the huts of history's shame
30. I rise
31. Up from a past that's rooted in pain
32. I rise
33. I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
34. Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
35. Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
36. I rise
37. Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
38. I rise
39. Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
40. I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
41. I rise
42. I rise
43. I rise.