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Special Stresses

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Mhykaela Bautista
Mhykaela Bautista

The document discusses the differences between stress-timed and syllable-timed rhythms in languages. It provides an example from Hocket that stress-timed languages like English take about the same amount of time to progress from one stressed syllable to the next, regardless of the number of intervening unstressed syllables, whereas syllable-timed languages maintain a consistent pace between each syllable.

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Special Stresses @menuemitch
The English language is characterized by what is referred to as a stress- timed rhythm in contrast to the Philippine languages or dialects which are generally characterized by a syllable- timed rhythm. Hocket says It takes about the same length of time to get from one primary stressed syllable to the next, in speaking at a given over- all tempo, whether there are no syllables between them or many. If there are none, we slow down our rate slightly; if there are many, we squeeze them in fast. @menuemitch
Conversation Drill@menuemitch
Jessa: Where were you at the acquaintance ball? Rose: I was there, but you were too busy serving to notice me. Jessa: Well, indeed I was. Why werent you dancing? Rose: I got so self- conscious. Other people dance so much better than I do. I cant do the new steps and I cant seem to find anything to talk to the boys about. Jessa: Just that? Rose: Well, watching others for me is fun enough. Jessa: Isnt there anything else you can do? Rose: Nothing, I guess. Jessa: Oh, come on. Dont tell me youre that desperate. Look at me. Rose: Say, do you think I could learn to do some of the new steps you can do so well? That is- if you could teach me. Jessa: Why not? How about Saturday afternoon? Ill see you at my place or do you prefer yours? Rose: Youre place will be fine. Ill be there at four. Jessa: See you at four on Saturday, then. Thats the bell. Wed better go in for Speech class @menuemitch
Break, Break, Break -Alfred Lord Tennyson- @menuemitch
Break, break, break On thy cold grey stones, O sea! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me. O well for the fishermans boy, That he shouts with his sister at play! O well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay. And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill, But O for the touch of a vanished hand, And the sound of a voice that is still. Break, break, break, At the foot of thy crags, O Sea! But the tender grace a day that is dead. Will never come back to me. @menuemitch

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Special Stresses

  • 2. The English language is characterized by what is referred to as a stress- timed rhythm in contrast to the Philippine languages or dialects which are generally characterized by a syllable- timed rhythm. Hocket says It takes about the same length of time to get from one primary stressed syllable to the next, in speaking at a given over- all tempo, whether there are no syllables between them or many. If there are none, we slow down our rate slightly; if there are many, we squeeze them in fast. @menuemitch
  • 4. Jessa: Where were you at the acquaintance ball? Rose: I was there, but you were too busy serving to notice me. Jessa: Well, indeed I was. Why werent you dancing? Rose: I got so self- conscious. Other people dance so much better than I do. I cant do the new steps and I cant seem to find anything to talk to the boys about. Jessa: Just that? Rose: Well, watching others for me is fun enough. Jessa: Isnt there anything else you can do? Rose: Nothing, I guess. Jessa: Oh, come on. Dont tell me youre that desperate. Look at me. Rose: Say, do you think I could learn to do some of the new steps you can do so well? That is- if you could teach me. Jessa: Why not? How about Saturday afternoon? Ill see you at my place or do you prefer yours? Rose: Youre place will be fine. Ill be there at four. Jessa: See you at four on Saturday, then. Thats the bell. Wed better go in for Speech class @menuemitch
  • 5. Break, Break, Break -Alfred Lord Tennyson- @menuemitch
  • 6. Break, break, break On thy cold grey stones, O sea! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me. O well for the fishermans boy, That he shouts with his sister at play! O well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay. And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill, But O for the touch of a vanished hand, And the sound of a voice that is still. Break, break, break, At the foot of thy crags, O Sea! But the tender grace a day that is dead. Will never come back to me. @menuemitch