Instructions:
write a prose paraphrase of robert browning's poem. your paraphrase should be approximately as long as the poem--at least 350 words. look up the meaning of any words that may be unfamiliar to you.

my last duchess

that's my last duchess painted on the wall,
looking as if she were alive. i call
that piece a wonder, now: fra pandolf's hands
worked busily a day, and there she stands.
will't you sit and look at her? i said
"fra pandolf" by design, for never read
strangers like you that pictured countenance,
the depth and passion of its earnest glance,
but to myself they turned (since none puts by
the curtain i have drawn for you, but i)
and seemed as they would ask me, if they durst
how such a glance came there; so, not the first
are you to turn and ask thus sir, 'twas not
her husband's presence only, called that spot
of joy into the duchess' cheek: perhaps
fra pandolf chanced to say "her mantle laps
over my lady's wrist too much," or "paint
must never hope to reproduce the faint
half-flush that dies along her throat": such stuff
was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough
for calling up that spot of joy. she had
a heart—how shall i say? —too soon made glad,
too easily impressed; she liked whate'er
she looked on, and her looks went everywhere.
sir, 'twas all one! my favor at her breast,
the dropping of the daylight in the west,
the bough of cherries some officious fool
broke in the orchard for her, the white mule
she rode with round the terrace—all and each
would draw from her alike the approving speech,
or blush, at least. she men—good! but
somehow—i know not how—as if she ranked
my gift of a nine-hundred-years-old name
with anybody's gift. who'd stoop to blame
in speech—(which i have not)—to make your will
quite clear to such an one, and say, "just this
or that in you disgusts me; here you miss,
or there exceed the mark"—and if she let
herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set
her wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse
—e'en then would be some stooping; and i choose
never to stoop. oh sir, she smiled, no doubt,
whene'er i passed her; but who passed without
much the same smile? this grew; i gave commands;
then all smiles stopped together. there she stands
as if alive. will't you rise? we'll meet
the company below, then. i repeat,
the count your master's known munificence
is ample warrant that no just pretense
of mine for dowry will be disallowed;
though his fair daughter's self, as i avowed
at starting, is my object. nay, we'll go
together down, sir. notice neptune, though,
taming a sea horse, thought a rarity,
which claus of innsbruck cast in bronze for me!

That painting on the wall is a portrait of my last Duchess. It is such a wonder that she looks like she is alive. Fra Pandolf worked really hard for a day to paint her. Would you like to sit and admire her? I mention Fra Pandolf on purpose because strangers like you do not see that face, the passion and fervour of its glance. I am the only one that sees those eyes (because I'm the only one that draws the curtain that I have drawn for you) and seem to ask me, if they dared, how those eyes ended up there. You are not the first to ask me that. Well, it was not only the presence of her husband what raised the colours of her cheeks. It was probably Fra Pandolf saying "the mantle laps over her wrists too much" or "painting must never ambition to reflect the thin flush that reaches your throat". She thought that it was a courtesy, and it was enough to make her flush.

She was a woman easy to impress. Se enjoyed anything he would see, and her gaze reached everything. It was all one! My favour at her breast, the sunset dropping daylight in the West, the bought of cherries some fool stole from an orchard for her, the white mule she rode around the terrace - all of this would receive a glance of approval or at least made her flush. She thanked men, somehow, as if she ranked my name and lineage with any other gift. But how could someone be mad for such a petty thing. That would be stooping. Even speaking frankly - which I did not do - and saying "this or that disgusts me". Even is she let herself be lectured and never put her intellect to the same level as ours and excuse herself, that would be stooping and I choose never to stoop.

She smiled whenever I passed her, but she smiled to everyone that passed. I gave orders and the smiles ended altogether. here she stands as if she were alive. Would you now stand and come with me. We will join the company below. I repeat that the Count's geneosity is a known warrant that no just pretense of mine for dowry will be disallowed, though her daughter, as I told you before, is my object. It is time to go down together, sir. But take a look at that Neptune taming a sea horse. It is a rare piece that Claus of Insbruck cast in bronze for me.

hi there!

sorry i was debating over answering this question or not, but i do believe it is a sin to be gay. in the beginning, god created man and he created women to be a for man. there are many "political" views on this topic but i believe the bible is right. in the kjv bible, leviticus 18: 22, god talks about how it it is an abomination for women to be with women and man to be with man. god knows that everybody is a sinner, and he gives everyone a chance to repent. i'm not forcing god's word on anybody, but i do believe it is a sin. no matter the sin, as long as you repent, god is willing to forgive, you just have to accept him as your lord and savior.