HOBET-Health Occupations Basic Entrance Test Set 2

Those examples of poetic justice that occur in medieval and Elizabethan literature, and that seem so
satisfying, have encouraged a whole school of twentieth-century scholars to "find" further examples. In fact,
these scholars have merely forced victimized character into a moral framework by which the injustices
inflicted on them are, somehow or other, justified. Such scholars deny that the sufferers in a tragedy are
innocent; they blame the victims themselves for their tragic fates. Any misdoing is enough to subject a
character to critical whips. Thus, there are long essays about the misdemeanors of Webster's Duchess of
Malfi, who defined her brothers, and he behavior of Shakespeare's Desdemona, who disobeyed her father.
Yet it should be remembered that the Renaissance writer Matteo Bandello strongly protests the injustice of
the severe penalties issued to women for acts of disobedience that men could, and did, commit with virtual
impunity. And Shakespeare, Chaucer, and Webster often enlist their readers on the side of their tragic
heroines by describing injustices so cruel that readers cannot but join in protest. By portraying Griselda, in
the Clerk's Tale, as a meek, gentle victim who does not criticize, much less rebel against the prosecutor,
her husband Waltter, Chaucer incites readers to espouse Griselda's cause against Walter's oppression.
Thus, efforts to supply historical and theological rationalization for Walter's persecutions tend to turn
Chaucer's fable upside down, to deny its most obvious effect on reader's sympathies. Similarly, to assert
that Webster's Duchess deserved torture and death because she chose to marry the man she loved and to
bear their children is, in effect to join forces with her tyrannical brothers, and so to confound the operation
of poetic justice, of which readers should approve, with precisely those examples of social injustice that
Webster does everything in his power to make readers condemn. Indeed. Webster has his heroin so
heroically lead the resistance to tyranny that she may well in spire members of the audience to
imaginatively join forces with her against the cruelty and hypocritical morality of her brothers.
Thus Chaucer and Webster, in their different ways, attack injustice, argue on behalf of the victims, and
prosecute the persecutors. Their readers serve them as a court of appeal that remains free to rule, as the
evidence requires, and as common humanity requires, in favour of the innocent and injured parties. For, to
paraphrase the noted eighteenth-century scholar, Samuel Johnson, despite all the refinements of subtlety
and the dogmatism of learning, it is by the common sense and compassion of readers who are uncorrupted
by the characters and situations in mereval and Dlizabetahn literature, as in any other literature, can best
be judged.
According to the passage, some twentieth-century scholars have written at length about

Those examples of poetic justice that occur in medieval and Elizabethan literature, and that seem so
satisfying, have encouraged a whole school of twentieth-century scholars to "find" further examples. In fact,
these scholars have merely forced victimized character into a moral framework by which the injustices
inflicted on them are, somehow or other, justified. Such scholars deny that the sufferers in a tragedy are
innocent; they blame the victims themselves for their tragic fates. Any misdoing is enough to subject a
character to critical whips. Thus, there are long essays about the misdemeanors of Webster's Duchess of
Malfi, who defined her brothers, and he behavior of Shakespeare's Desdemona, who disobeyed her father.
Yet it should be remembered that the Renaissance writer Matteo Bandello strongly protests the injustice of
the severe penalties issued to women for acts of disobedience that men could, and did, commit with virtual
impunity. And Shakespeare, Chaucer, and Webster often enlist their readers on the side of their tragic
heroines by describing injustices so cruel that readers cannot but join in protest. By portraying Griselda, in
the Clerk's Tale, as a meek, gentle victim who does not criticize, much less rebel against the prosecutor,
her husband Waltter, Chaucer incites readers to espouse Griselda's cause against Walter's oppression.
Thus, efforts to supply historical and theological rationalization for Walter's persecutions tend to turn
Chaucer's fable upside down, to deny its most obvious effect on reader's sympathies. Similarly, to assert
that Webster's Duchess deserved torture and death because she chose to marry the man she loved and to
bear their children is, in effect to join forces with her tyrannical brothers, and so to confound the operation
of poetic justice, of which readers should approve, with precisely those examples of social injustice that
Webster does everything in his power to make readers condemn. Indeed. Webster has his heroin so
heroically lead the resistance to tyranny that she may well in spire members of the audience to
imaginatively join forces with her against the cruelty and hypocritical morality of her brothers.
Thus Chaucer and Webster, in their different ways, attack injustice, argue on behalf of the victims, and
prosecute the persecutors. Their readers serve them as a court of appeal that remains free to rule, as the
evidence requires, and as common humanity requires, in favour of the innocent and injured parties. For, to
paraphrase the noted eighteenth-century scholar, Samuel Johnson, despite all the refinements of subtlety
and the dogmatism of learning, it is by the common sense and compassion of readers who are uncorrupted
by the characters and situations in mereval and Dlizabetahn literature, as in any other literature, can best
be judged.
The primary purpose of the passage is to

Those examples of poetic justice that occur in medieval and Elizabethan literature, and that seem so
satisfying, have encouraged a whole school of twentieth-century scholars to "find" further examples. In fact,
these scholars have merely forced victimized character into a moral framework by which the injustices
inflicted on them are, somehow or other, justified. Such scholars deny that the sufferers in a tragedy are
innocent; they blame the victims themselves for their tragic fates. Any misdoing is enough to subject a
character to critical whips. Thus, there are long essays about the misdemeanors of Webster's Duchess of
Malfi, who defined her brothers, and he behavior of Shakespeare's Desdemona, who disobeyed her father.
Yet it should be remembered that the Renaissance writer Matteo Bandello strongly protests the injustice of
the severe penalties issued to women for acts of disobedience that men could, and did, commit with virtual
impunity. And Shakespeare, Chaucer, and Webster often enlist their readers on the side of their tragic
heroines by describing injustices so cruel that readers cannot but join in protest. By portraying Griselda, in
the Clerk's Tale, as a meek, gentle victim who does not criticize, much less rebel against the prosecutor,
her husband Waltter, Chaucer incites readers to espouse Griselda's cause against Walter's oppression.
Thus, efforts to supply historical and theological rationalization for Walter's persecutions tend to turn
Chaucer's fable upside down, to deny its most obvious effect on reader's sympathies. Similarly, to assert
that Webster's Duchess deserved torture and death because she chose to marry the man she loved and to
bear their children is, in effect to join forces with her tyrannical brothers, and so to confound the operation
of poetic justice, of which readers should approve, with precisely those examples of social injustice that
Webster does everything in his power to make readers condemn. Indeed. Webster has his heroin so
heroically lead the resistance to tyranny that she may well in spire members of the audience to
imaginatively join forces with her against the cruelty and hypocritical morality of her brothers.
Thus Chaucer and Webster, in their different ways, attack injustice, argue on behalf of the victims, and
prosecute the persecutors. Their readers serve them as a court of appeal that remains free to rule, as the
evidence requires, and as common humanity requires, in favour of the innocent and injured parties. For, to
paraphrase the noted eighteenth-century scholar, Samuel Johnson, despite all the refinements of subtlety
and the dogmatism of learning, it is by the common sense and compassion of readers who are uncorrupted
by the characters and situations in mereval and Dlizabetahn literature, as in any other literature, can best
be judged.
It can be inferred from the passage that the author consider Chaucer's Grisselda to be

Those examples of poetic justice that occur in medieval and Elizabethan literature, and that seem so
satisfying, have encouraged a whole school of twentieth-century scholars to "find" further examples. In fact,
these scholars have merely forced victimized character into a moral framework by which the injustices
inflicted on them are, somehow or other, justified. Such scholars deny that the sufferers in a tragedy are
innocent; they blame the victims themselves for their tragic fates. Any misdoing is enough to subject a
character to critical whips. Thus, there are long essays about the misdemeanors of Webster's Duchess of
Malfi, who defined her brothers, and he behavior of Shakespeare's Desdemona, who disobeyed her father.
Yet it should be remembered that the Renaissance writer Matteo Bandello strongly protests the injustice of
the severe penalties issued to women for acts of disobedience that men could, and did, commit with virtual
impunity. And Shakespeare, Chaucer, and Webster often enlist their readers on the side of their tragic
heroines by describing injustices so cruel that readers cannot but join in protest. By portraying Griselda, in
the Clerk's Tale, as a meek, gentle victim who does not criticize, much less rebel against the prosecutor,
her husband Waltter, Chaucer incites readers to espouse Griselda's cause against Walter's oppression.
Thus, efforts to supply historical and theological rationalization for Walter's persecutions tend to turn
Chaucer's fable upside down, to deny its most obvious effect on reader's sympathies. Similarly, to assert
that Webster's Duchess deserved torture and death because she chose to marry the man she loved and to
bear their children is, in effect to join forces with her tyrannical brothers, and so to confound the operation
of poetic justice, of which readers should approve, with precisely those examples of social injustice that
Webster does everything in his power to make readers condemn. Indeed. Webster has his heroin so
heroically lead the resistance to tyranny that she may well in spire members of the audience to
imaginatively join forces with her against the cruelty and hypocritical morality of her brothers.
Thus Chaucer and Webster, in their different ways, attack injustice, argue on behalf of the victims, and
prosecute the persecutors. Their readers serve them as a court of appeal that remains free to rule, as the
evidence requires, and as common humanity requires, in favour of the innocent and injured parties. For, to
paraphrase the noted eighteenth-century scholar, Samuel Johnson, despite all the refinements of subtlety
and the dogmatism of learning, it is by the common sense and compassion of readers who are uncorrupted
by the characters and situations in mereval and Dlizabetahn literature, as in any other literature, can best
be judged.
The author's tone in her discussion of the conclusions reached by the "school of twentieth-century
scholars" (line 4) is best described as

Those examples of poetic justice that occur in medieval and Elizabethan literature, and that seem so
satisfying, have encouraged a whole school of twentieth-century scholars to "find" further examples. In fact,
these scholars have merely forced victimized character into a moral framework by which the injustices
inflicted on them are, somehow or other, justified. Such scholars deny that the sufferers in a tragedy are
innocent; they blame the victims themselves for their tragic fates. Any misdoing is enough to subject a
character to critical whips. Thus, there are long essays about the misdemeanors of Webster's Duchess of
Malfi, who defined her brothers, and he behavior of Shakespeare's Desdemona, who disobeyed her father.
Yet it should be remembered that the Renaissance writer Matteo Bandello strongly protests the injustice of
the severe penalties issued to women for acts of disobedience that men could, and did, commit with virtual
impunity. And Shakespeare, Chaucer, and Webster often enlist their readers on the side of their tragic
heroines by describing injustices so cruel that readers cannot but join in protest. By portraying Griselda, in
the Clerk's Tale, as a meek, gentle victim who does not criticize, much less rebel against the prosecutor,
her husband Waltter, Chaucer incites readers to espouse Griselda's cause against Walter's oppression.
Thus, efforts to supply historical and theological rationalization for Walter's persecutions tend to turn
Chaucer's fable upside down, to deny its most obvious effect on reader's sympathies. Similarly, to assert
that Webster's Duchess deserved torture and death because she chose to marry the man she loved and to
bear their children is, in effect to join forces with her tyrannical brothers, and so to confound the operation
of poetic justice, of which readers should approve, with precisely those examples of social injustice that
Webster does everything in his power to make readers condemn. Indeed. Webster has his heroin so
heroically lead the resistance to tyranny that she may well in spire members of the audience to
imaginatively join forces with her against the cruelty and hypocritical morality of her brothers.
Thus Chaucer and Webster, in their different ways, attack injustice, argue on behalf of the victims, and
prosecute the persecutors. Their readers serve them as a court of appeal that remains free to rule, as the
evidence requires, and as common humanity requires, in favour of the innocent and injured parties. For, to
paraphrase the noted eighteenth-century scholar, Samuel Johnson, despite all the refinements of subtlety
and the dogmatism of learning, it is by the common sense and compassion of readers who are uncorrupted
by the characters and situations in mereval and Dlizabetahn literature, as in any other literature, can best
be judged.
It can be inferred from the passage that the author believes that most people respond to intended
instances of poetic justice in medieval and Elizabethan literature with

Those examples of poetic justice that occur in medieval and Elizabethan literature, and that seem so
satisfying, have encouraged a whole school of twentieth-century scholars to "find" further examples. In fact,
these scholars have merely forced victimized character into a moral framework by which the injustices
inflicted on them are, somehow or other, justified. Such scholars deny that the sufferers in a tragedy are
innocent; they blame the victims themselves for their tragic fates. Any misdoing is enough to subject a
character to critical whips. Thus, there are long essays about the misdemeanors of Webster's Duchess of
Malfi, who defined her brothers, and he behavior of Shakespeare's Desdemona, who disobeyed her father.
Yet it should be remembered that the Renaissance writer Matteo Bandello strongly protests the injustice of
the severe penalties issued to women for acts of disobedience that men could, and did, commit with virtual
impunity. And Shakespeare, Chaucer, and Webster often enlist their readers on the side of their tragic
heroines by describing injustices so cruel that readers cannot but join in protest. By portraying Griselda, in
the Clerk's Tale, as a meek, gentle victim who does not criticize, much less rebel against the prosecutor,
her husband Waltter, Chaucer incites readers to espouse Griselda's cause against Walter's oppression.
Thus, efforts to supply historical and theological rationalization for Walter's persecutions tend to turn
Chaucer's fable upside down, to deny its most obvious effect on reader's sympathies. Similarly, to assert
that Webster's Duchess deserved torture and death because she chose to marry the man she loved and to
bear their children is, in effect to join forces with her tyrannical brothers, and so to confound the operation
of poetic justice, of which readers should approve, with precisely those examples of social injustice that
Webster does everything in his power to make readers condemn. Indeed. Webster has his heroin so
heroically lead the resistance to tyranny that she may well in spire members of the audience to
imaginatively join forces with her against the cruelty and hypocritical morality of her brothers.
Thus Chaucer and Webster, in their different ways, attack injustice, argue on behalf of the victims, and
prosecute the persecutors. Their readers serve them as a court of appeal that remains free to rule, as the
evidence requires, and as common humanity requires, in favour of the innocent and injured parties. For, to
paraphrase the noted eighteenth-century scholar, Samuel Johnson, despite all the refinements of subtlety
and the dogmatism of learning, it is by the common sense and compassion of readers who are uncorrupted
by the characters and situations in mereval and Dlizabetahn literature, as in any other literature, can best
be judged.
As described in the passage, the process by which some twentieth-century scholars have reached their
conclusions about the blameworthiness of victims in medieval and Elizabethan literary works is mot similar
to which of the following?

Those examples of poetic justice that occur in medieval and Elizabethan literature, and that seem so
satisfying, have encouraged a whole school of twentieth-century scholars to "find" further examples. In fact,
these scholars have merely forced victimized character into a moral framework by which the injustices
inflicted on them are, somehow or other, justified. Such scholars deny that the sufferers in a tragedy are
innocent; they blame the victims themselves for their tragic fates. Any misdoing is enough to subject a
character to critical whips. Thus, there are long essays about the misdemeanors of Webster's Duchess of
Malfi, who defined her brothers, and he behavior of Shakespeare's Desdemona, who disobeyed her father.
Yet it should be remembered that the Renaissance writer Matteo Bandello strongly protests the injustice of
the severe penalties issued to women for acts of disobedience that men could, and did, commit with virtual
impunity. And Shakespeare, Chaucer, and Webster often enlist their readers on the side of their tragic
heroines by describing injustices so cruel that readers cannot but join in protest. By portraying Griselda, in
the Clerk's Tale, as a meek, gentle victim who does not criticize, much less rebel against the prosecutor,
her husband Waltter, Chaucer incites readers to espouse Griselda's cause against Walter's oppression.
Thus, efforts to supply historical and theological rationalization for Walter's persecutions tend to turn
Chaucer's fable upside down, to deny its most obvious effect on reader's sympathies. Similarly, to assert
that Webster's Duchess deserved torture and death because she chose to marry the man she loved and to
bear their children is, in effect to join forces with her tyrannical brothers, and so to confound the operation
of poetic justice, of which readers should approve, with precisely those examples of social injustice that
Webster does everything in his power to make readers condemn. Indeed. Webster has his heroin so
heroically lead the resistance to tyranny that she may well in spire members of the audience to
imaginatively join forces with her against the cruelty and hypocritical morality of her brothers.
Thus Chaucer and Webster, in their different ways, attack injustice, argue on behalf of the victims, and
prosecute the persecutors. Their readers serve them as a court of appeal that remains free to rule, as the
evidence requires, and as common humanity requires, in favour of the innocent and injured parties. For, to
paraphrase the noted eighteenth-century scholar, Samuel Johnson, despite all the refinements of subtlety
and the dogmatism of learning, it is by the common sense and compassion of readers who are uncorrupted
by the characters and situations in mereval and Dlizabetahn literature, as in any other literature, can best
be judged.
The author's paraphrase of a statement by Samuel Johnson serves which of the following functions in the
passage?

Those examples of poetic justice that occur in medieval and Elizabethan literature, and that seem so
satisfying, have encouraged a whole school of twentieth-century scholars to "find" further examples. In fact,
these scholars have merely forced victimized character into a moral framework by which the injustices
inflicted on them are, somehow or other, justified. Such scholars deny that the sufferers in a tragedy are
innocent; they blame the victims themselves for their tragic fates. Any misdoing is enough to subject a
character to critical whips. Thus, there are long essays about the misdemeanors of Webster's Duchess of
Malfi, who defined her brothers, and he behavior of Shakespeare's Desdemona, who disobeyed her father.
Yet it should be remembered that the Renaissance writer Matteo Bandello strongly protests the injustice of
the severe penalties issued to women for acts of disobedience that men could, and did, commit with virtual
impunity. And Shakespeare, Chaucer, and Webster often enlist their readers on the side of their tragic
heroines by describing injustices so cruel that readers cannot but join in protest. By portraying Griselda, in
the Clerk's Tale, as a meek, gentle victim who does not criticize, much less rebel against the prosecutor,
her husband Waltter, Chaucer incites readers to espouse Griselda's cause against Walter's oppression.
Thus, efforts to supply historical and theological rationalization for Walter's persecutions tend to turn
Chaucer's fable upside down, to deny its most obvious effect on reader's sympathies. Similarly, to assert
that Webster's Duchess deserved torture and death because she chose to marry the man she loved and to
bear their children is, in effect to join forces with her tyrannical brothers, and so to confound the operation
of poetic justice, of which readers should approve, with precisely those examples of social injustice that
Webster does everything in his power to make readers condemn. Indeed. Webster has his heroin so
heroically lead the resistance to tyranny that she may well in spire members of the audience to
imaginatively join forces with her against the cruelty and hypocritical morality of her brothers.
Thus Chaucer and Webster, in their different ways, attack injustice, argue on behalf of the victims, and
prosecute the persecutors. Their readers serve them as a court of appeal that remains free to rule, as the
evidence requires, and as common humanity requires, in favour of the innocent and injured parties. For, to
paraphrase the noted eighteenth-century scholar, Samuel Johnson, despite all the refinements of subtlety
and the dogmatism of learning, it is by the common sense and compassion of readers who are uncorrupted
by the characters and situations in mereval and Dlizabetahn literature, as in any other literature, can best
be judged.
The author of the passage is primarily concerned with

Woodraw Wilson was referring to the liberal idea of the economic market when he said that the free
enterprise system is the most efficient economic system. Maximum freedom means maximum
productiveness; our "openness" is to be the measure of our stability. Fascination with this ideal has made
Americans defy the "Old World" categories of settled possessiveness versus unsettling deprivation. the
cupidity of retention versus the cupidity of seizure, a "status quo" defended of attacked. The United States,
it was believed, had no status quo ante. Our only "station" was the turning of a stationary wheel, spinning
faster and faster. We did not base our system on property but opportunity-which meant we based it not on
stability but on mobility. The more things changed, that is, the more rapidly the wheel turned, the steadier
we would be. The conventional picture of class politics is composed of the Haves, who want a stability to
keep what they have, and Have-Nots, who want a touch of instability and change in which to scramble for
the things they have not. But Americans imagined a condition in which speculators, self-makers, runners
are always using the new opportunities given by our land. These economic leaders (front-runners) would
thus be mainly agents of Change. The nonstarters were considered the ones who wanted stability, a strong
referee to give them some position in the race, a regulative hand to calm manic speculation; an authority
that can call things to a half begin things again from compensatorily staggered "starting lines".:Reform" in
America has been sterile because it can imagine no change except through the extension of this metaphor
of the race, wider inclusion of competitors, "a piece of the action." As it were, of the disenfranchised. There
is no attempt to call off the race. Since our only stability is change. America seems not to honor the quite
work that achieves social interdependence and stability. There is, in our legends, no heroism of the office
clerk, no stable industrial work force of the people who actually make the system work. There is no pride in
being an employee (Wilson asked for a return to the time when everyone was an employer). There has
been no boasting about our social workers-they are need; empty boasts from the past make us ashamed
of our present achievements, make us try to forget or deny the, move away from them. There is no honor
but in the wonderland race we must all run, all trying to win, none winning in the end (for there is no end).
The primary purpose of the passage is to

Woodraw Wilson was referring to the liberal idea of the economic market when he said that the free
enterprise system is the most efficient economic system. Maximum freedom means maximum
productiveness; our "openness" is to be the measure of our stability. Fascination with this ideal has made
Americans defy the "Old World" categories of settled possessiveness versus unsettling deprivation. the
cupidity of retention versus the cupidity of seizure, a "status quo" defended of attacked. The United States,
it was believed, had no status quo ante. Our only "station" was the turning of a stationary wheel, spinning
faster and faster. We did not base our system on property but opportunity-which meant we based it not on
stability but on mobility. The more things changed, that is, the more rapidly the wheel turned, the steadier
we would be. The conventional picture of class politics is composed of the Haves, who want a stability to
keep what they have, and Have-Nots, who want a touch of instability and change in which to scramble for
the things they have not. But Americans imagined a condition in which speculators, self-makers, runners
are always using the new opportunities given by our land. These economic leaders (front-runners) would
thus be mainly agents of Change. The nonstarters were considered the ones who wanted stability, a strong
referee to give them some position in the race, a regulative hand to calm manic speculation; an authority
that can call things to a half begin things again from compensatorily staggered "starting lines".:Reform" in
America has been sterile because it can imagine no change except through the extension of this metaphor
of the race, wider inclusion of competitors, "a piece of the action." As it were, of the disenfranchised. There
is no attempt to call off the race. Since our only stability is change. America seems not to honor the quite
work that achieves social interdependence and stability. There is, in our legends, no heroism of the office
clerk, no stable industrial work force of the people who actually make the system work. There is no pride in
being an employee (Wilson asked for a return to the time when everyone was an employer). There has
been no boasting about our social workers-they are need; empty boasts from the past make us ashamed
of our present achievements, make us try to forget or deny the, move away from them. There is no honor
but in the wonderland race we must all run, all trying to win, none winning in the end (for there is no end).
The primary purpose of the passage is to
According to the passage, "Old World" values were based on