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And wish, so please my sovereign, ere I move, i To me for justice and rough chastisement ; What my tongue speaks, my right drawn sword And, by the glorious worth of my descent, may prove.

This arm shall do it, or tbis life be spent. Mow. Let not my cold words here accuse my k. Rich. How high a pitch his resolution soars ! zeal :

Thomas of Norfolk, what say'st thou to this ? 110 'Tis not the trial of a woman's war,

Mow. O! let my sovereign turn away his face The bitter clamour of two eager tongues,

And bid his ears a little while be deaf, Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain ; Till I have told this slander of his blood, The blood is hot that must be cool'd for this : How God and good men hate so foul a liar. Yet can I not of such tame patience boast K. Rich. Mowbray, impartial are our eyes and As to be hush'd and nought at all to say. First, the fair reverence of your highnesscurbs me Were he my brother, nay, my kingdom's heir, From giving reins and spars to my free speech ; | As he is but my father's brother's son, Which else would post until it had return'd Now by my sceptre's awe I make a vow, These terms of treason doubled down his throat. Such neighbour nearness to our sacred blood Setting aside his high blood's royalty,

Should nothing privilege bim, nor partialize 120 And let him be no kinsman to my liege,

The unstooping firmness of my upright soul. I do defy him, and I spit at him ;

He is our subject, Mowbray ; so art thou : Call him a slanderous coward and a villain : Free speech and fearless I to thee allow. Which to maintain I would allow him odds, Mow. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart, And meet him, were I tied to run afoot

Through the false passage of thy throat, thou Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps,

liest. Or any other ground inhabitable,

Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais Where ever Englishman durst set his foot. Disburs d I duly to his highness' soldiers; Meantime let this defend my loyalty :

The other part reserv'd I by consent, By all my hopes, most falsely doth he lie. For that my sovereign liege was in my debt Boling. Pale trembling coward, there I throw Upon remainder of a dear account, my gage,

Since last I went to France to fetch his queen. Disclaiming here the kindred of the king, 70 Now swallow down that lie. For Gloucester's And lay aside my bigh blood's royalty,

death,
Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to except: I slew him not; but to mine own disgrace
If guilty dread have left thee so much strength Neglected my sworn duty in that case.
As to take up mine honour's pawn, then stoop : For you, my noble Lord of Lancaster,
By that, and all the rites of knighthood else, The honourable father to my foe,
Will I make good against thee, arm to arm, Once did I lay an ambush for your life,
What I have spoke, or thou canst worse devise. A trespass that doth vex my grieved soul ;

Mow. I take it up; and by that sword I swear, But ere I last receiv'd the sacrament
Which gently laid my knighthood on my shoulder, I did confess it, and exactly begg'd
I'll answer thee in any fair degree,

Your grace's pardon, and I hope I had it.
Or chivalrous design of knightly trial :

This is my fault : as for the rest appeal’d,
And when I mount, alive may I not light, It issues from the rancour of a villain,
If I be traitor or unjustly fight!

A recreant and most degenerate traitor ; K. Rich. What doth our cousin lay to Mow. Which in myself I boldly will defend, bray's charge?

And interchangeably hurl down my gage It must be great that can inherit us

Upon this overweening traitor's foot, So much as of a thought of ill in him.

To prove myself a loyal gentleman Boling. Look, what I speak, my life shall prove Even in the best blood chamber'd in his bosom. it true :

In haste whereof, most heartily I pray That Mowbray hath receiv'd eight thousand Your highness to assign our trial day. nobles

K. Rich. Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be rul'd In name of lendings for your highness' soldiers, by me; The which he hath detain'd for lewd employ- | Let's purge this choler without letting blood : ments,

90 This we prescribe, though no physician ; Like a false traitor and injurious villain. Deep malice makes too deep incision : Besides I say and will in battle prove,

Forget, forgive; conclude and be agreed. Or here or elsewhere to the furthest verge Our doctors say this is no month to bleed. That ever was survey'd by English eye,

Good uncle, let this end where it begun; That all the treasons for these eighteen years We'll calm the Duke of Norfolk, you your son. Complotted and contrived in this land,

Gaunt. To be a make-peace shall become my Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and

age: spring.

Throw down, my son, the Duke of Norfolk's gage. Further I say and further will maintain

R. Rich. And, Norfolk, throw down his. Upon his bad life to make all this good,

Gaunt.

When, Harry, when ? That he did plot the Duke of Gloucester's death, Obedience bids I should not bid again. Suggest his soon-believing adversaries,

K. Rich. Norfolk, throw down, we bid; there And consequently, like a traitor coward,

is no boot. Sluic'd out his innocent soul through streams Mow. Myself I throw, dread sovereign, at thy of blood :

foot. Which blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries, My life thou shalt command, but not my shame: Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth The one my duty owes ; but my fair name,

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Despite of death that lives upon my grave, Is hack'd down, and his summer leaves all vaded,
To dark dishonour's use thou shalt not have. By envy's hand and murder's bloody axe.
I am disgrac'd, impeach'd, and baffled here, 170 Ah! Gaunt, his blood was thine: that bed, that
Pierc'd to the soul with slander's venom'd spear, womb,
The which no balm can cure but his heart-blood That metal, that self-mould, that fashion'd thee
Which breath'd this poison.

Made him a man; and though thou liv'st and K. Rich.

Rage must be withstood : breath'st, Give me his gage : lions make leopards tame. Yet art thou slain in him : thou dost consent Mou. Yea, but not change his spots : take but In some large measure to thy father's death my shame,

In that thou seest thy wretched brother die, And I resign my gage. My dear dear lord, Who was the model of thy father's life. The purest treasure mortal times afford

Call it not patience, Gaunt; it is despair : Is spotless reputation ; that away,

In suffering thus thy brother to be slaughter'd 30 Men are but gilded loam or painted clay.

Thou show'st the naked pathway to thy life, A jewel in a ten-times-barr'd-up chest 180 Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee : Is a bold spirit in a loyal breast.

That which in mean men we entitle patience Mine honour is my life ; both grow in one ; Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts. Take honour from me, and my life is done : What shall I say? to safeguard thine own life, Then, dear my liege, mine honour let me try; The best way is to venge my Gloucester's death. In that I live and for that will I die.

Gaunt. God's is the quarrel ; for God's subR. Rich. Cousin, throw up your gage; do you stitute, begin.

His deputy anointed in his sight, Boling. O! God defend my soul from such Hath caus'd his death ; the which if wrongfully, deep sin.

Let heaven revenge, for I may never lift Shall I seem crest-fall’n in my father's sight? An angry arm against his minister, Or with pale beggar-fear impeach my height 189 Duch. Where then, alas! may I complain Before this out-dar'd dastard ? Ere my tongue myself? Shall wound mine honour with such feeble wrong, Gaunt. To God, the widow's champion and Or sound so base a parle, my teeth shall tear

defence. The slavish motive of recanting fear,

Duch. Why then, I will. Farewell, old Gaunt. And spit it bleeding in his high disgrace, Thou go'st to Coventry, there to behold Where shame doth harbour, even in Mowbray's Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight : face.

Exit GAUNT. O! sit my husband's wrongs on Hereford's spear, K. Rich. We were not born to sue, but to That it may enter butcher Mowbray's breast. command;

Or, if misfortune miss tbe first career, Which since we cannot do to make you friends, Be Mowbray's sins so heavy in his bosom Be ready, as your lives shall answer it,

That they may break his foaming courser's back, At Coventry, upon Saint Lambert's day : And throw the rider headlong in the lists, There shall your swords and lances arbitrate 200 A caitiff recreant to my cousin Hereford ! The swelling difference of your settled hate : Farewell,old Gaunt:thy sometimes brother's wife Since we can not atone you, we shall see With her companion grief must end her life. Justice design the victor's chivalry.

Gaunt. Sister, farewell; I must to Coventry. Lord marshal, command our officers-at-arms As much good stay with thee as go with me! Be ready to direct these home alarms. E.ceunt. Duch. Yet one word more. Grief boundeth

where it falls, SCENE II.- The Same. A Room in the Duke of

Not with the empty hollowness, but weight : LANCASTER'S Palace.

I take my leave before I have begun,

For sorrow ends not when it seemeth done. Enter GAUNT and Duchess of GLOUCESTER.

Commend me to thy brother, Edmund York. Gaunt. Alas! the part I had in Woodstock's Lo! this is all : nay, yet depart not so ; blood

Though this be all, do not so quickly go ; Doth more solicit me than your exclaims, I shall remember more. Bid him-ah! what ?To stir against the butchers of his life.

With all good speed at Plashy visit me. But since correction lieth in those hands

Alack! and what shall good old York there see Which made the fault that we cannot correct, But empty lodgings and unfurnish'd walls, Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven ; Unpeopled offices, untrodden stones ? Who, when they see the hours ripe on earth, And what hear there for welcome but my groans? Will rain hot vengeance on offenders' heads. Therefore commend me ; let him not come there, Duch. Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper | To seek out sorrow that dwells every where. spur?

Desolate, desolate will I hence, and die : Hath love in thy old blood no living fire ? The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye. Edward's seven sons, whereof thyself art one,

Eceunt. Were as seven vials of his sacred blood, Or seven fair branches springing from one root : SCENE III.-Open Space near Coventry. Some of those seven are dried by nature's course, Some of those branches by the Destinies cut ;

Lists set out, and a throne. Heralds etc attending.

Enter the Lord Marshal and AUMERLE. But Thomas, my dear lord, my life, my Gloucester, One vial full of Edward's sacred blood,

Mar. My Lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford One flourishing branch of his most royal root, arm'd ? Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt ; Aum. Yea, at all points, and longs to enter in.

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Mar. The Duke of Norfolk, sprightfully and Mar. The appellant in all duty greets your bold,

highness, Stays but the summons of the appellant's And craves to kiss your hand and take his leave. trumpet.

R. Rich. We will descend and fold him in our Aum. Why then, the champions are prepard, and stay

Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is right, For nothing but his majesty's approach.

So be thy fortune in this royal fight !

Farewell, Flourish. Enter King RICHARD, who takes his Lament we may, but not revenge thee dead.

my blood ; which if to-day thou shed, seat on his throne ; GAUNT, BUSHY, BAGOT,

Boling. O ! let no noble eye profane a tear GREEN, and Others, who take their places., A For me, if I be gor'd with Mowbray's spear. trumpet is sounded, and answered by another As confident as is the falcon's flight trumpet within. Then enter MOWBRAY in arms, Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight. defendant, preceded by a Herald.

My loving lord, I take my leave of you ; K. Rich. Marshal, demand of yonder champion of you, my noble cousin, Lord Aumerle ; The cause of his arrival here in arms :

Not sick, although I have to do with death, Ask him his name, and orderly proceed

But lusty, young, and cheerly drawing breath. To swear him in the justice of his cause. Lo! as at English feasts, so I regreet Mar. In God's name, and the king's, say who The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet : thou art,

O thou, the earthly author of my blood, And why thou com'st thus knightly clad in Whose youthful spirit, in me regenerate, arms,

Doth with a two-fold vigour list me up Against what man thou com’st, and what thy To reach at victory above my head, quarrel.

Add proof unto mine armour with thy prayers, Speak truly, on thy knighthood and thine oath ; And with thy blessings steel my lance's point, As so defend thee heaven and thy valour! That it may enter Mowbray's waxen coat, Mow. My name is Thomas Mowbray, Duke of And furbish new the name of John a Gaunt, Norfolk:

Even in the lusty haviour of his son. Who hither come engaged by my oath,

Gaunt. God in thy good cause make thee Which God defend a knight should violate!

prosperous ! Both to defend my loyalty and truth

Be swift like lightning in the execution ;
To God, my king, and my succeeding issue, And let thy blows, doubly redoubled,
Against the Duke of Hereford that appeals me; Fall like amazing thunder on the casque
And, by the grace of God and this mine arm, Of thy adverse pernicious enemy :
To prove him, in defending of myself,

Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant and A traitor to my God, my king, and me:

live. And as I truly fight, defend me heaven!

Boling. Mine innocency and Saint George to

thrive! Trumpet sounds. Enter BOLINGBROKE, appellant,

Mow. However God or fortune cast my lot, in armour, preceded by a Herald.

There lives or dies, true to King Richard's K. Rich. Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms, throne, Both who he is and why he cometh hither A loyal, just, and upright gentleman. Thus plated in habiliments of war ;

Never did captive with a freer heart And formally, according to our law,

Cast off his chains of bondage and embrace Depose him in the justice of his canse.

His golden uncontroll'd enfranchisement, Mar. What is thy name ? and wherefore com'st More than my dancing soul doth celebrate thou hither,

This feast of battle with mine adversary. Before King Richard in his royal lists?

Most mighty liege, and my companion peers, Against whom comest thou ? and what's thy | Take from my mouth the wish of happy years. quarrel ?

As gentle and as jocund as to jest, Speak like a true knight, so defend thee heaven! Go I to fight : truth hath a quiet breast. Boling. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and K. Rich. Farewell, my lord : securely I esps Derby,

Virtue with valour couched in thine ere. Am I; who ready here do stand in arms, Order the trial, marshal, and begin. To prove by God's grace and my body's valour, Mar. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby. In lists, on Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, Receive thy lance; and God defend the right! That he's a traitor fonl and dangerous,

Boling. Strong as a tower in hope, I cry "amen.' To God of heaven, King Richard, and to me: 40 Mar. Go bear this lance to Thomas, Duke of And as I truly fight, defend me heaven !

Norfolk. Mar. On pain of death, no person be so bold First Her. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Or daring-hardy as to touch the lists,

Derby, Except the marshal and such officers

Stands here for God, his sovereign, and himself, Appointed to direct these fair designs.

On pain to be found false and recreant, Boling. Lord marshal, let me kiss my sovereign's To prove the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray: hand,

A traitor to his God, his king, and him ; And bow my knee before his majesty :

And dares him to set forward to the fight. For Mowbray and myself are like two men Second Her. Here standeth Thomas Mowbray, That vow a long and weary pilgrimage ;

Duke of Norfolk, Then let us take a ceremonious leave

50 On pain to be found false and recreant, And loving farewell of our several friends. Both to defend himself and to approve

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Henry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby,
To God, his sovereign, and to him, disloyal;
Courageously and with a free desire
Attending but the signal to begin.

Mar. Sound, trumpets; and set forward, com-
batants.
A charge sounded.
Stay, the king hath thrown his warder down.
K. Rich. Let them lay by their helmets and
their spears,

And both return back to their chairs again. 120
Withdraw with us; and let the trumpets sound
While we return these dukes what we decree.
A long flourish.

Draw near,
And list what with our council we have done.
For that our kingdom's earth should not be soil'd
With that dear blood which it hath fostered;
And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect
Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbours'
sword;

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K. Rich. It boots thee not to be compassionate:
After our sentence plaining comes too late.
Mow. Then thus I turn me from my country's
light,

To dwell in solemn shades of endless night.
K. Rich. Return again, and take an oath with
thee.

Lay on our royal sword your banish'd hands;
Swear by the duty that you owe to God,
Our part therein we banish with yourselves,
To keep the oath that we administer :
You never shall, so help you truth and God!
Embrace each other's love in banishment;
Nor never look upon each other's face;
Nor never write, regreet, nor reconcile
This lowering tempest of your home-bred hate;
Nor never by advised purpose meet
To plot, contrive, or complot any ill
'Gainst us, our state, our subjects, or our land.
Boling. I swear.

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Mow. And I, to keep all this.

Boling. Norfolk, so far as to mine enemy:--
By this time, had the king permitted us,
One of our souls had wander'd in the air,
Banish'd this frail sepulchre of our flesh,
As now our flesh is banish'd from this land :
Confess thy treasons ere thou fly the realm;
Since thou hast far to go, bear not along
The clogging burden of a guilty soul.

Mow. No, Bolingbroke: if ever I were traitor,
My name be blotted from the book of life,
And I from heaven banish'd as from hence!
But what thou art, God, thou, and I do know:
And all too soon, I fear, the king shall rue.
Farewell, my liege. Now no way can I stray;
Save back to England, all the world's my way.
Exit.

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That sun that warms you here shall shine on me;
And those his golden beams to you here lent
Shall point on me and gild my banishment.

K. Rich. Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier
doom,

Which I with some unwillingness pronounce :
The sly slow hours shall not determinate 150
The dateless limit of thy dear exile;
The hopeless word of 'never to return'
Breathe I against thee, upon pain of life.

Mow. A heavy sentence, my most sovereign
liege,

And all unlook'd for from your highness' mouth:
A dearer merit, not so deep a maim
As to be cast forth in the common air,
Have I deserved at your highness' hands.
The language I have learn'd these forty years,
My native English, now I must forgo;
And now my tongue's use is to me no more
Than an unstringed viol or a harp,
Or like a cunning instrument cas'd up,
Or, being open, put into his hands
That knows no touch to tune the harmony:
Within my mouth you have engaol'd my tongue,
Doubly portcullis'd with my teeth and lips;
And dull unfeeling barren ignorance
Is made my gaoler to attend on me.
I am too old to fawn upon a nurse,
Too far in years to be a pupil now:
What is thy sentence then but speechless death,
Which robs my tongue from breathing native
breath?

morrow;

Thou canst help time to furrow me with age,
But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage;
Thy word is current with him for my death,
But dead, thy kingdom cannot buy my breath.

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K. Rich. Thy son is banish'd upon good advice,
Whereto thy tongue a party-verdict gave :
Why at our justice seem'st thou then to lower?

K. Rich. Uncle, even in the glasses of thine eyes
I see thy grieved heart: thy sad aspect
Hath from the number of his banish'd years 210
Pluck'd four away. To BOLINGBROKE. Six

frozen winters spent,

Return with welcome home from banishment.
Boling. How long a time lies in one little word!
Four lagging winters and four wanton springs
End in a word: such is the breath of kings.

Gaunt. I thank my liege, that in regard of me
He shortens four years of my son's exile;
But little vantage shall I reap thereby :
For, ere the six years that he hath to spend
Can change their moons and bring their times
about,

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My oil-dried lamp and time-bewasted light
Shall be extinct with age and endless night;
My inch of taper will be burnt and done,
And blindfold death not let me see my son.
K. Rich. Why, uncle, thou hast many years to
live.

Gaunt. But not a minute, king, that thou canst
give:

Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow,
And pluck nights from me, but not lend a

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Gaunt. Things sweet to taste prove in diges- | For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite tion sour.

The man that mocks at it and sets it light. You urg'd me as a judge ; but I had rather Boling. O! who can hold a fire in his hand You would have bid me argue like a father. By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ? O! had it been a stranger, not my child, Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite To smooth his fault I should have been more By bare imagination of a feast?

240 Or wallow naked in December snow A partial slander sought I to avoid,

By thinking on fantastic summer's heat? And in the sentence my own life destroy'd. 01 no, the apprehension of the good Alas! I look'd when some of you should say, Gives but the greater feeling to the worse : I was too strict to make mine own away; Fell sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more But you gave leave to my unwilling tongue Than when it bites, but lanceth not the sore. Against my will to do myself this wrong.

Gaunt. Come, come, my son, I'll bring thee R. Rich. Cousin, farewell ; and, uncle, bid on thy way. him so:

Had I thy youth and cause, I would not stay. Six years we banish him, and he shall go.

Boling. Then, England's ground, farewell ; Flourish. Exeunt King RICHARD sweet soil, adieu :

and Train. My mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet! Aum. Cousin, farewell : what presence must

Where'er I wander, boast of this I can, not know,

Though bapish'd, yet a true-born Englishman. From where you do remain let paper show.

Exeunt. Mar. My lord, no leave take I; for I will ride, As far as land will let me, by your side.

SCENE IV.- London. A Room in the Gaunt. 0! to what purpose dost thou hoard

King's Castle. thy words, That thou return'st no greeting to thy friends ?

Enter King RICHARD, BAGOT, and GREEN, at Boling. I have too few to take my leave of you,

one door ; AUMERLE at another. When the tongue's office should be prodigal K. Rich. We did observe. Cousin Aumerle, To breathe the abundant dolour of the heart. How far brought you high Hereford on his way?

Gaunt. Thy grief is but thy absence for a time. Aum. I brought high Hereford, if you call Boling. Joy absent, grief is present for that time.

But to the next highway, and there I left him. Gaunt. What is six winters? they are quickly K'. Rich. And say, what store of parting tears gone.

were shed ? Boling. To men in joy ; but grief makes one Aum. Faith, none for me ; except the northhour ten.

east wind, Gaunt. Call it a travel that thou tak’st for which then blew bitterly against our faces, pleasure.

Awak'd the sleeping rheum, and so by chance Boling. My heart will sigh when I miscall it so, Did grace our hollow parting with a tear. Which finds it an enforced pilgrimage.

K. Rich. What said our cousin when you Gaunt. The sullen passage of thy weary steps parted with him? Esteem as foil wherein thou art to set

Aum. Farewell :' The precious jewel of thy home return.

And, for my heart disdained that my tongue Boling. Nay, rather, every tedious stride I Should so profane the word, that taught me craft make

To counterfeit oppression of such grief, Will but remember me what a deal of world That words seem'd buried in my sorrow's grave. I wander from the jewels that I love. 270 Marry, would the word ‘farewell' havelengthen'd Must I not serve a long apprenticehood

hours To foreign passages, and in the end,

And added years to his short banishment, Having my freedom, boast of nothing else He should have had a volume of farewells; But that I was a journeyman to grief?

But since it would not, he had none of me. Gaunt. All places that the eye of heaven visits K. Rich. He is our cousin, cousin ; but 'tis Are to a wise man ports and happy havens.

doubt, Teach thy necessity to reason thus ;

When time shall cail him home from banishment, There is no virtue like necessity.

Whether our kinsman come to see his friends. Think not the king did banish thee, 279 Ourself and Bushy, Bagot here and Green But thou the king. Woe doth the heavier sit, Observ'd his courtship to the common people, Where it perceives it is but faintly borne, How he did seem to dive into their hearts Go, say I sent thee forth to purchase honour, With humble and familiar courtesy, And not the king exil'd thee; or suppose What reverence he did throw away on slaves, Devouring pestilence hangs in our air,

Wooing poor craftsmen with the craft of smiles And thou art flying to a fresher clime.

And patient underbearing of his fortune, Look! what thy soul holes dear, imagine it As 'twere to banish their affects with him. To lie that way thou go'st, not whence thou Off goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench; com'st.

A brace of draymen bid God speed hi' i well, Suppose the singing birds musicians,

And had the tribute of his supple knee, The grass whereon thou tread’st the presence With ·Thanks, my countrymen, my loving strew'd,

friends'; The flowers fair ladies, and thy steps no more As were our England in reversion his, Than a delightful measure or a dance ;

And he our subjects' next degree in hope.

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