CUET English 2023 PYQs7 June Shift 2. Free, no login required.

Read the following passage carefully and answer the next five questions by choosing the correct options :

A great part of Arabia is desert. Here there is nothing but sand and rock. The sand is so hot that you cannot walk over it with your bare feet in the daytime. Here and there in the desert are springs of water that come from deep down under the ground - so deep that the sun cannot dry them up. These springs are few and far apart, but wherever there is one, trees grow tall and graceful making a cool, green, shady place around the spring. Such a place is called an oasis.

The Arabs who are not in the cities live in the desert all the year round. They live in tents that can be put up and taken down very easily and quickly so that they can move from one oasis to another, seeking grass and water for their sheep, goats, camels and horses. These desert Arabs eat ripe, sweet figs, and also the dates that grow upon the palm trees; they dry them, too, and use them as food all the year round.

These Arabs have the finest horses in the world. An Arab is very proud of his riding horse, and loves him almost as much as he loves his wife and children. He never puts heavy loads upon his horse, and often lets him stay in the tent with his family.

The camel is much more useful to the Arab than his beautiful horse, however, for he is much larger and stronger. One camel can carry as much as or more than two horses. The Arab loads the camel with goods and rides him, too, for miles and miles across the desert - just as if it were really the "Ship of the Desert", which it is often called.

Read the following passage carefully and answer the next five questions by choosing the correct options :

A great part of Arabia is desert. Here there is nothing but sand and rock. The sand is so hot that you cannot walk over it with your bare feet in the daytime. Here and there in the desert are springs of water that come from deep down under the ground - so deep that the sun cannot dry them up. These springs are few and far apart, but wherever there is one, trees grow tall and graceful making a cool, green, shady place around the spring. Such a place is called an oasis.

The Arabs who are not in the cities live in the desert all the year round. They live in tents that can be put up and taken down very easily and quickly so that they can move from one oasis to another, seeking grass and water for their sheep, goats, camels and horses. These desert Arabs eat ripe, sweet figs, and also the dates that grow upon the palm trees; they dry them, too, and use them as food all the year round.

These Arabs have the finest horses in the world. An Arab is very proud of his riding horse, and loves him almost as much as he loves his wife and children. He never puts heavy loads upon his horse, and often lets him stay in the tent with his family.

The camel is much more useful to the Arab than his beautiful horse, however, for he is much larger and stronger. One camel can carry as much as or more than two horses. The Arab loads the camel with goods and rides him, too, for miles and miles across the desert - just as if it were really the "Ship of the Desert", which it is often called.

Read the following passage carefully and answer the next five questions by choosing the correct options :

A great part of Arabia is desert. Here there is nothing but sand and rock. The sand is so hot that you cannot walk over it with your bare feet in the daytime. Here and there in the desert are springs of water that come from deep down under the ground - so deep that the sun cannot dry them up. These springs are few and far apart, but wherever there is one, trees grow tall and graceful making a cool, green, shady place around the spring. Such a place is called an oasis.

The Arabs who are not in the cities live in the desert all the year round. They live in tents that can be put up and taken down very easily and quickly so that they can move from one oasis to another, seeking grass and water for their sheep, goats, camels and horses. These desert Arabs eat ripe, sweet figs, and also the dates that grow upon the palm trees; they dry them, too, and use them as food all the year round.

These Arabs have the finest horses in the world. An Arab is very proud of his riding horse, and loves him almost as much as he loves his wife and children. He never puts heavy loads upon his horse, and often lets him stay in the tent with his family.

The camel is much more useful to the Arab than his beautiful horse, however, for he is much larger and stronger. One camel can carry as much as or more than two horses. The Arab loads the camel with goods and rides him, too, for miles and miles across the desert - just as if it were really the "Ship of the Desert", which it is often called.

Read the following passage carefully and answer the next five questions by choosing the correct options :

A great part of Arabia is desert. Here there is nothing but sand and rock. The sand is so hot that you cannot walk over it with your bare feet in the daytime. Here and there in the desert are springs of water that come from deep down under the ground - so deep that the sun cannot dry them up. These springs are few and far apart, but wherever there is one, trees grow tall and graceful making a cool, green, shady place around the spring. Such a place is called an oasis.

The Arabs who are not in the cities live in the desert all the year round. They live in tents that can be put up and taken down very easily and quickly so that they can move from one oasis to another, seeking grass and water for their sheep, goats, camels and horses. These desert Arabs eat ripe, sweet figs, and also the dates that grow upon the palm trees; they dry them, too, and use them as food all the year round.

These Arabs have the finest horses in the world. An Arab is very proud of his riding horse, and loves him almost as much as he loves his wife and children. He never puts heavy loads upon his horse, and often lets him stay in the tent with his family.

The camel is much more useful to the Arab than his beautiful horse, however, for he is much larger and stronger. One camel can carry as much as or more than two horses. The Arab loads the camel with goods and rides him, too, for miles and miles across the desert - just as if it were really the "Ship of the Desert", which it is often called.

Read the following passage carefully and answer the next five questions by choosing the correct options :

A great part of Arabia is desert. Here there is nothing but sand and rock. The sand is so hot that you cannot walk over it with your bare feet in the daytime. Here and there in the desert are springs of water that come from deep down under the ground - so deep that the sun cannot dry them up. These springs are few and far apart, but wherever there is one, trees grow tall and graceful making a cool, green, shady place around the spring. Such a place is called an oasis.

The Arabs who are not in the cities live in the desert all the year round. They live in tents that can be put up and taken down very easily and quickly so that they can move from one oasis to another, seeking grass and water for their sheep, goats, camels and horses. These desert Arabs eat ripe, sweet figs, and also the dates that grow upon the palm trees; they dry them, too, and use them as food all the year round.

These Arabs have the finest horses in the world. An Arab is very proud of his riding horse, and loves him almost as much as he loves his wife and children. He never puts heavy loads upon his horse, and often lets him stay in the tent with his family.

The camel is much more useful to the Arab than his beautiful horse, however, for he is much larger and stronger. One camel can carry as much as or more than two horses. The Arab loads the camel with goods and rides him, too, for miles and miles across the desert - just as if it were really the "Ship of the Desert", which it is often called.

Read the following passage carefully and answer the next five questions by choosing the correct options :

I am a king, I am a slave,

I am a worm, I am God,

DERZHAVIN

The following day Charsky sought our room number 35 in the dark and dirty corridor of an inn. He stopped at the door and knocked. The Italian of the previous day opened the door.

"Victory!" Charsky said to him. "The affair is settled. The Princess --- offers you her salon. At a big party last night I succeeded in recruiting half Petersburg. Get your tickets and programmes printed. I guarantee you, if not a triumph, at least a profit. . . ."

"And that's the main thing!" cried the Italian, expressing his delight by a spate of lively movements, characteristic of his southern origin. "I knew that you would help me. Corpo di Bacco! You are a poet like myself, and there's no denying that poets are splendid fellows! How can I express my gratitude ? Wait. . . would you like to hear an improvisation?"

"An improvisation! . . . But can you do without an audience, without music, without the thunder of applause?"

"Nonsense! Where could I find a better audience ? You are a poet, you will understand me better than others, and your quiet encouragement will mean more to me than whole storms of applause. . . . Find yourself a seat somewhere and give me a theme".

Read the following passage carefully and answer the next five questions by choosing the correct options :

I am a king, I am a slave,

I am a worm, I am God,

DERZHAVIN

The following day Charsky sought our room number 35 in the dark and dirty corridor of an inn. He stopped at the door and knocked. The Italian of the previous day opened the door.

"Victory!" Charsky said to him. "The affair is settled. The Princess --- offers you her salon. At a big party last night I succeeded in recruiting half Petersburg. Get your tickets and programmes printed. I guarantee you, if not a triumph, at least a profit. . . ."

"And that's the main thing!" cried the Italian, expressing his delight by a spate of lively movements, characteristic of his southern origin. "I knew that you would help me. Corpo di Bacco! You are a poet like myself, and there's no denying that poets are splendid fellows! How can I express my gratitude ? Wait. . . would you like to hear an improvisation?"

"An improvisation! . . . But can you do without an audience, without music, without the thunder of applause?"

"Nonsense! Where could I find a better audience ? You are a poet, you will understand me better than others, and your quiet encouragement will mean more to me than whole storms of applause. . . . Find yourself a seat somewhere and give me a theme".

Read the following passage carefully and answer the next five questions by choosing the correct options :

I am a king, I am a slave,

I am a worm, I am God,

DERZHAVIN

The following day Charsky sought our room number 35 in the dark and dirty corridor of an inn. He stopped at the door and knocked. The Italian of the previous day opened the door.

"Victory!" Charsky said to him. "The affair is settled. The Princess --- offers you her salon. At a big party last night I succeeded in recruiting half Petersburg. Get your tickets and programmes printed. I guarantee you, if not a triumph, at least a profit. . . ."

"And that's the main thing!" cried the Italian, expressing his delight by a spate of lively movements, characteristic of his southern origin. "I knew that you would help me. Corpo di Bacco! You are a poet like myself, and there's no denying that poets are splendid fellows! How can I express my gratitude ? Wait. . . would you like to hear an improvisation?"

"An improvisation! . . . But can you do without an audience, without music, without the thunder of applause?"

"Nonsense! Where could I find a better audience ? You are a poet, you will understand me better than others, and your quiet encouragement will mean more to me than whole storms of applause. . . . Find yourself a seat somewhere and give me a theme".

Read the following passage carefully and answer the next five questions by choosing the correct options :

I am a king, I am a slave,

I am a worm, I am God,

DERZHAVIN

The following day Charsky sought our room number 35 in the dark and dirty corridor of an inn. He stopped at the door and knocked. The Italian of the previous day opened the door.

"Victory!" Charsky said to him. "The affair is settled. The Princess --- offers you her salon. At a big party last night I succeeded in recruiting half Petersburg. Get your tickets and programmes printed. I guarantee you, if not a triumph, at least a profit. . . ."

"And that's the main thing!" cried the Italian, expressing his delight by a spate of lively movements, characteristic of his southern origin. "I knew that you would help me. Corpo di Bacco! You are a poet like myself, and there's no denying that poets are splendid fellows! How can I express my gratitude ? Wait. . . would you like to hear an improvisation?"

"An improvisation! . . . But can you do without an audience, without music, without the thunder of applause?"

"Nonsense! Where could I find a better audience ? You are a poet, you will understand me better than others, and your quiet encouragement will mean more to me than whole storms of applause. . . . Find yourself a seat somewhere and give me a theme".

Read the following passage carefully and answer the next five questions by choosing the correct options :

I am a king, I am a slave,

I am a worm, I am God,

DERZHAVIN

The following day Charsky sought our room number 35 in the dark and dirty corridor of an inn. He stopped at the door and knocked. The Italian of the previous day opened the door.

"Victory!" Charsky said to him. "The affair is settled. The Princess --- offers you her salon. At a big party last night I succeeded in recruiting half Petersburg. Get your tickets and programmes printed. I guarantee you, if not a triumph, at least a profit. . . ."

"And that's the main thing!" cried the Italian, expressing his delight by a spate of lively movements, characteristic of his southern origin. "I knew that you would help me. Corpo di Bacco! You are a poet like myself, and there's no denying that poets are splendid fellows! How can I express my gratitude ? Wait. . . would you like to hear an improvisation?"

"An improvisation! . . . But can you do without an audience, without music, without the thunder of applause?"

"Nonsense! Where could I find a better audience ? You are a poet, you will understand me better than others, and your quiet encouragement will mean more to me than whole storms of applause. . . . Find yourself a seat somewhere and give me a theme".

Read the following passage, and answer the next five questions by choosing the correct options :

Unquestionably a literary life is for the most part an unhappy life; because, if you have genius, you must suffer the penalty of genius; and, if you have only talent, there are so many cares and worries incidental to the circumstances of men of letters, as to make life exceedingly miserable. Besides the pangs of composition, and the continuous disappointment which a true artist feels at his inability to reveal himself, there is the ever-recurring difficulty of gaining the public ear. Young writers are buoyed up by the hope and the belief that they have only to throw that poem at the world's feet to get back in return the laurel-crown; that they have only to push that novel into print to be acknowledged at once as a new light in literature. You can never convince a young author that the editors of magazines and the publishers of books are a practical body of men, who are by no means frantically anxious about placing the best literature before the public. Nay, that for the most part they are mere brokers who conduct their business on the hardest lines of a Profit and Loss account. But supposing your book fairly launches, its perils are only beginning. You have to run the gauntlet of the critics.

A time comes in the life of every author when he regards critics as comical rather than formidable, and goes his way unheeding. But there are sensitive souls that yield under the chastisement and, perhaps after suffering much silent torture, abandon the profession of the pen for ever. Keats, perhaps, is the saddest example of a fine spirit hounded to death by savage criticism; because, whatever his biographers may aver, that furious attack of Gifford and Terry undoubtedly expedited his death. But no doubt there are hundreds who suffer keenly hostile and unscrupulous criticism, and who have to bear that suffering in silence, because it is a cardinal principle in literature that the most unwise thing in the world for an author is to take public notice of criticism in the way of defending himself. Silence is the only safeguard, as it is the only dignified protest against insult and offence.

Read the following passage, and answer the next five questions by choosing the correct options :

Unquestionably a literary life is for the most part an unhappy life; because, if you have genius, you must suffer the penalty of genius; and, if you have only talent, there are so many cares and worries incidental to the circumstances of men of letters, as to make life exceedingly miserable. Besides the pangs of composition, and the continuous disappointment which a true artist feels at his inability to reveal himself, there is the ever-recurring difficulty of gaining the public ear. Young writers are buoyed up by the hope and the belief that they have only to throw that poem at the world's feet to get back in return the laurel-crown; that they have only to push that novel into print to be acknowledged at once as a new light in literature. You can never convince a young author that the editors of magazines and the publishers of books are a practical body of men, who are by no means frantically anxious about placing the best literature before the public. Nay, that for the most part they are mere brokers who conduct their business on the hardest lines of a Profit and Loss account. But supposing your book fairly launches, its perils are only beginning. You have to run the gauntlet of the critics.

A time comes in the life of every author when he regards critics as comical rather than formidable, and goes his way unheeding. But there are sensitive souls that yield under the chastisement and, perhaps after suffering much silent torture, abandon the profession of the pen for ever. Keats, perhaps, is the saddest example of a fine spirit hounded to death by savage criticism; because, whatever his biographers may aver, that furious attack of Gifford and Terry undoubtedly expedited his death. But no doubt there are hundreds who suffer keenly hostile and unscrupulous criticism, and who have to bear that suffering in silence, because it is a cardinal principle in literature that the most unwise thing in the world for an author is to take public notice of criticism in the way of defending himself. Silence is the only safeguard, as it is the only dignified protest against insult and offence.

Read the following passage, and answer the next five questions by choosing the correct options :

Unquestionably a literary life is for the most part an unhappy life; because, if you have genius, you must suffer the penalty of genius; and, if you have only talent, there are so many cares and worries incidental to the circumstances of men of letters, as to make life exceedingly miserable. Besides the pangs of composition, and the continuous disappointment which a true artist feels at his inability to reveal himself, there is the ever-recurring difficulty of gaining the public ear. Young writers are buoyed up by the hope and the belief that they have only to throw that poem at the world's feet to get back in return the laurel-crown; that they have only to push that novel into print to be acknowledged at once as a new light in literature. You can never convince a young author that the editors of magazines and the publishers of books are a practical body of men, who are by no means frantically anxious about placing the best literature before the public. Nay, that for the most part they are mere brokers who conduct their business on the hardest lines of a Profit and Loss account. But supposing your book fairly launches, its perils are only beginning. You have to run the gauntlet of the critics.

A time comes in the life of every author when he regards critics as comical rather than formidable, and goes his way unheeding. But there are sensitive souls that yield under the chastisement and, perhaps after suffering much silent torture, abandon the profession of the pen for ever. Keats, perhaps, is the saddest example of a fine spirit hounded to death by savage criticism; because, whatever his biographers may aver, that furious attack of Gifford and Terry undoubtedly expedited his death. But no doubt there are hundreds who suffer keenly hostile and unscrupulous criticism, and who have to bear that suffering in silence, because it is a cardinal principle in literature that the most unwise thing in the world for an author is to take public notice of criticism in the way of defending himself. Silence is the only safeguard, as it is the only dignified protest against insult and offence.

Read the following passage, and answer the next five questions by choosing the correct options :

Unquestionably a literary life is for the most part an unhappy life; because, if you have genius, you must suffer the penalty of genius; and, if you have only talent, there are so many cares and worries incidental to the circumstances of men of letters, as to make life exceedingly miserable. Besides the pangs of composition, and the continuous disappointment which a true artist feels at his inability to reveal himself, there is the ever-recurring difficulty of gaining the public ear. Young writers are buoyed up by the hope and the belief that they have only to throw that poem at the world's feet to get back in return the laurel-crown; that they have only to push that novel into print to be acknowledged at once as a new light in literature. You can never convince a young author that the editors of magazines and the publishers of books are a practical body of men, who are by no means frantically anxious about placing the best literature before the public. Nay, that for the most part they are mere brokers who conduct their business on the hardest lines of a Profit and Loss account. But supposing your book fairly launches, its perils are only beginning. You have to run the gauntlet of the critics.

A time comes in the life of every author when he regards critics as comical rather than formidable, and goes his way unheeding. But there are sensitive souls that yield under the chastisement and, perhaps after suffering much silent torture, abandon the profession of the pen for ever. Keats, perhaps, is the saddest example of a fine spirit hounded to death by savage criticism; because, whatever his biographers may aver, that furious attack of Gifford and Terry undoubtedly expedited his death. But no doubt there are hundreds who suffer keenly hostile and unscrupulous criticism, and who have to bear that suffering in silence, because it is a cardinal principle in literature that the most unwise thing in the world for an author is to take public notice of criticism in the way of defending himself. Silence is the only safeguard, as it is the only dignified protest against insult and offence.

Read the following passage, and answer the next five questions by choosing the correct options :

Unquestionably a literary life is for the most part an unhappy life; because, if you have genius, you must suffer the penalty of genius; and, if you have only talent, there are so many cares and worries incidental to the circumstances of men of letters, as to make life exceedingly miserable. Besides the pangs of composition, and the continuous disappointment which a true artist feels at his inability to reveal himself, there is the ever-recurring difficulty of gaining the public ear. Young writers are buoyed up by the hope and the belief that they have only to throw that poem at the world's feet to get back in return the laurel-crown; that they have only to push that novel into print to be acknowledged at once as a new light in literature. You can never convince a young author that the editors of magazines and the publishers of books are a practical body of men, who are by no means frantically anxious about placing the best literature before the public. Nay, that for the most part they are mere brokers who conduct their business on the hardest lines of a Profit and Loss account. But supposing your book fairly launches, its perils are only beginning. You have to run the gauntlet of the critics.

A time comes in the life of every author when he regards critics as comical rather than formidable, and goes his way unheeding. But there are sensitive souls that yield under the chastisement and, perhaps after suffering much silent torture, abandon the profession of the pen for ever. Keats, perhaps, is the saddest example of a fine spirit hounded to death by savage criticism; because, whatever his biographers may aver, that furious attack of Gifford and Terry undoubtedly expedited his death. But no doubt there are hundreds who suffer keenly hostile and unscrupulous criticism, and who have to bear that suffering in silence, because it is a cardinal principle in literature that the most unwise thing in the world for an author is to take public notice of criticism in the way of defending himself. Silence is the only safeguard, as it is the only dignified protest against insult and offence.