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I'll pause;

Frighting her pale-fac'd villages with war, And you that do abet him in this kind,
And ostentation of despised arms?

Cherish rebellion, and are rebels all.
Com'st thou because the anointed king is hence ? North. The noble duke hath sworn, his coming is
Why, foolish boy, the king is left behind,

But for his own : and, for the right of that, And in my loyal bosom lies his power..

We all have strongly sworn to give him aid; Were I but now the lord of such hot youth, And let him ne'er see joy, that breaks that oath. As when brave Gaunt, thy father, and myself, York. Well, well, I see the issue of these arms; Rescued the Black Prince, that young Mars of I cannot mend it, I must needs confess, men,

Because my power is weak, and all ill left: From forth the ranks of many thousand French; But, if I could, by Him that gave me life, O, then, how quickly should this arm of mine, I would attach you all, and make you stoop Now prisoner to the palsy, chastise thee,

Unto the sovereign mercy of the king; And minister correction to thy fault !

But, since I cannot, be it known to you, Boling. My gracious uncle, let me know my I do remain as neuter. So, fare you well; fault;

Unless you please to enter in the castle, On what condition stands it, and wherein ?

And there repose you for this night. York. Even in condition of the worst degree, - Boling. An offer, uncle, that we will accept. In gross rebellion, and detested treason :

But we must win your grace, to go with us Thou art a banish'd man, and here art come, To Bristol castle ; which, they say, is held Before the expiration of thy time,

By Bushy, Bagot, and their complices, In braving arms against thy sovereign.

The caterpillars of the commonwealth, Boling. As I was banish'd, I was banish'd Here- Which I have sworn to weed, and pluck away. ford :

York. It may be, I will go with you : - but yet But as I come, I come for Lancaster. And, noble uncle, I beseech your grace,

For I am loath to break our country's laws. Look on my wrongs with an indifferent eye: Nor friends, nor foes, to me welcome you are : You are my father, for, methinks in you

Things past redress, are now with me past care. I see old Gaunt alive ; O, then, my father!

(Eseunt. Will you permit that I shall stand condemn'd

SCENE IV. - A Camp in Wales.
A wand'ring vagabond ; my rights and royalties
Pluck'd from my arms perforce, and given away

Enter SALISBURY and a Captain.
To upstart unthrifts? Wherefore was I born ? Cap. My lord of Salisbury, we have staid ten days
If that my cousin king be king of Englands And hardly kept our countrymen together,
It must be granted, I am duke of Lancaster. And yet we hear no tidings from the king ;
You have a son, Aumerle, my noble kinsman; Therefore we will disperse ourselves : farewell.
Had you first died, and he been thus trod down, Sal. Stay yet another day, thou trusty Welshman;
He should have found his uncle Gaunt a father, The king reposeth all his confidence
To rouse his wrongs, and chase them to the bay.

In thee. I am denied to sue my livery here,

Cap. 'Tis thought, the king is dead; we will not And yet my letters-patent give me leare :

stay. My father's goods are all distrain'd, and sold ; The bay-trees in our country are all wither'd, And these, and all, are all amiss employ'd. And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven; What would you have me do? I am a subject, The pale-fac'd moon looks bloody on the earth, And challenge law : Attornies are denied me; i And lean-look'd prophets whisper fearful change ; And therefore personally I lay my claim

Rich men look sad, and ruffians dance and leap, To my inheritance of free descent.

The one, in fear to lose what they enjoy, North. The noble duke hath been too much abus'd. The other, to enjoy by rage and war : Ross. It stands your grace upon, to do him right. These signs forerun the death or fall of kings. Willo. Base men by his endowments are made Farewell; our countrymen are gone and filed, great. As well assur'd, Richard their king is dead. (Esit

. York. My lords of England, let me tell you Sal. Ah, Richard ! with the eyes of heavy mind, this,

I see thy glory, like a shooting star, I have had feeling of my cousin's wrongs,

Fall to the base earth from the firmament ! And labour'd all I could to do him right :

Thy sun sets weeping in the lowly west, But in this kind to come, in braving arms,

Witnessing storms to come, woe, and unrest; Be his own carver, and cut out his way,

Thy friends are fled, to wait upon thy foes ; To find out right with wrong, - it may not be ; And crossly to thy good all fortune goes. (Erit.


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SCENE I. - Bolingbroke's Camp at Bristol. (Since presently your souls must part your bodies, Enter BOLINGBROKE, York, NORTHUMBERLAND; For 'twere no charity: yet, to wash your blood

With too much urging your pernicious lives, Percy, WILLOUGHBY, Ross : Officers behind, with From off my hands, here, in the view of men, Bushy and Green, prisoners.

I will unfold some causes of your death. Boling. Bring forth these men.

You have misled a prince, a royal king, Bushy, and Green, I will not vex your souls A happy gentleman in blood and lineaments,

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By you unhappied and disfigur'd clean.

Guard it, I pray thee, with a lurking adder ; You have, in manner, with your sinful hours, Whose double tongue may with a mortal touch Made a divorce betwixt his queen

and him; Throw death upon thy sovereign's enemies. Broke the possession of a royal bed,

Mock not my senseless conjuration, lords ; And stain' the beauty of a fair queen's cheeks This earth shall have a feeling, and these stones With tears drawn from her eyes by your foul wrongs. Prove armed soldiers, ere her native king Myself -a prince, by fortune of my birth;

Shall falter under foul rebellious arms. Near to the king in blood; and near in love, Bishop. Fear not, my lord; that Power, that Till you did make him misinterpret me,

made you king, Have stoop'd my neck under your injuries, Hath power to keep you king, in spite of all. And sigh'd my English breath in foreign clouds, The means that heaven yields must be embrac'd, Eating the bitter bread of banishment :

And not neglected ; else, if heaven would, Whilst you have fed upon my seignories,

And we will not, heaven's offer we refuse ; Dispark'd my parks, and felld my forest woods ; The proffer'd means of succour and redress. From my own windows torn my household coat, Aum. He means, my lord, that we are too remiss; Raz'd out my impress, leaving me no sign

Whilst Bolingbroke, through our security, Sare men's opinions, and my living blood,

Grows strong and great, in substance, and in friends. To show the world I am a gentleman,

K. Rich. Discomfortable cousin ! know'st thou This, and much more, much more than twice all

not, this,

That when the searching eye of heaven is hid Condemns you to the death :- - See them deliver'd | Behind the globe, and lights the lower world, over

Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen, To execution and the hand of death.

In murders, and in outrage, bloody here; Busky. More welcome is the stroke of death to me, But when, from under this terrestrial ball, Than Bolingbroke to England. - Lords, farewell. He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines, Green. My comfort is, - that heaven will take And darts his light through every guilty hole, our souls,

Then murders, treasons, and detested sins, And plague injustice with the pains of hell. The cloak of night being pluck'd from off their Baling. My lord Northumberland, see them

backs, despatch'd.

Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves ? (Eveurt NORTHUMBERLAND and others, with So when this thief, this traitor, Bolingbroke, – Prisoners.

Who all this while hath revell’d in the night,
Uncle, you say, the queen is at your house : Whilst we were wand'ring with the antipodes, -
For heaven's sake, fairly let her be entreated : Shall see us rising in our throne the east,
Tell her, I send to her my kind commends ; His treasons will sit blushing in his face,
Take special care my greetings be deliver'd. Not able to endure the sight of day,

York. A gentleman of mine I have despatch'd But, self-affrighted, tremble at his sin.
With letters of your love to her at large.

Not all the water in the rough rude sea Boling. Thanks, gentle unele. — Come, lords, Can wash the balm from an anointed king : away;

The breath of worldly men cannot depose To fight with Glendower and his complices ; The deputy elected by the Lord : Awhile to work, and, after, holiday. [Exeunt. For every man that Bolingbroke hath pressid,

To lift shrewd steel against our golden crown, SCENE II. - The Coast of Wales. A Castle God for his Richard hath in heavenly pay in View.

A glorious angel : then, if angels fight, Flourish : Drums and Trumpets. Enter King

Weak men must fall; for heaven still guards the


Enter SALISBURY. K. Rich. Barkloughly castle call you this at hand? Welcome, my lord; How far off lies your power ? funt. Yes, my lord. How brooks your grace Sal. Nor near, nor further off, my gracious lord, the air,

Than this weak arm: Discomfort guides my tongue, After late tossing on the breaking seas?

And bids me speak of nothing but despair. I. Rich. Needs must I like it well; I weep for One day too late, I fear, my noble lord,

Hath clouded all thy happy days on earth : To stand upon my kingdom once again.

0, call back yesterday, bid time return, Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand,

And thou shalt have twelve thousand fighting men . Though rebels wound thee with their horses' hoofs : To-day, to-day, unhappy day, too late, As a long parted mother with her child

O'erthrows thy joys, friends, fortune, and thy state ; Plays fondly with her tears, and smiles in meeting ; For all the Welshmen, hearing thou wert dead, 80, weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth, Are gone to Bolingbroke, dispers’d and fled. And do thee favour with my royal hands.

Aum. Comfort, my liege : why looks your grace Feed not thy sovereign's foe, my gentle earth,

so pale? Nor with thy sweets comfort his rav’nous sense : K. Rich. But now, the blood of twenty thousand But let thy spiders, that suck up thy venom, And heavy-gaited toads, lie in their way ;

Did triumph in my face, and they are fled; Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet,

And, till so much blood thither come again, Which with usurping steps do trample thee.

Have I not reason to look pale and dead ? Field stinging nettles to mine enemies :

All souls that will be safe, fly from my side ; And when they from thy bosom pluck a flower, For time hath set a blot upon my pride.




Aum. Comfort, my liege; remember who you are. Aum. Is Bushy, Green, and the earl of WiltK. Rich. I had forgot myself : Am I not king ?

shire, dead? Awake thou sluggard majesty! thou sleep'st. Scroop. Yes, all of them at Bristol lost their Is not the king's name forty thousand names ?

heads. Arm, arm, my name! a puny subject strikes

Aum. Where is the duke my father with his At thy great glory. - Look not to the ground,

power ? Ye favourites of a king; Are we not high ?

K. Rich. No matter where; of comfort no man High be our thoughts : I know, my uncle York

speak :
Hath power enough to serve our turn. But who Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs ;
Comes here?

Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes

Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth.

Let's choose executors, and talk of wills : Scroop. More health and happiness betide my And yet not so, — for what can we bequeath, liege,

Save our deposed bodies to the ground ?
Than can my care-tun'd tongue deliver him. Our lands, or lives, and all are Bolingbroke's,
K. Rich. Mine ear is open, and my heart pre- and nothing can we call our own, but death ;

And that small model of the barren earth,
The worst is worldly loss, thou canst unfold. Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
Say, is my kingdom lost? why, 'twas my care ; For heaven's sake, let us sit upon the ground,
And what loss is it, to be rid of care ?

And tell sad stories of the death of kings :
Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we?

How some have been depos'd, some slain in war, Greater he shall not be ; if he serve God,

Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed ; We'll serve him too, and be his fellow so:

Some poison'd by their wives, some sleeping kill'd; Revolt our subjects ? that we cannot mend; All murder'd : — For within the hollow crown, They break their faith to God, as well as us : That rounds the mortal temples of a king, Cry, woe, destruction, ruin, loss, decay;

Keeps death his court: and there the antick site, The worst is death, and death will have his day.. Scoffing his state, and grinning at his pomp ;

Scroop. Glad am I, that your highness is so arm'd Allowing him a breath, a little scene To bear the tidings of calamity.

To monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with looks; Like an unseasonable stormy day,

Infusing him with self and vain conceit, — Which makes the silver rivers drown their shores, As if this flesh, which walls about our life, As if the world were all dissolved to tears ; Were brass impregnable, and, humour'd thus, So high above his limits swells the rage

Comes at the last, and with a little pin Of Bolingbroke, covering your fearful land Bores through his castle wall, and — farewell king! With hard bright steel, and hearts harder than steel. Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood White beards have arm'd their thin and hairless With solemn reverence; throw away respect, scalps

Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty, Against thy majesty ; boys, with women's voices, For you have but mistook me all this while : Strive to speak big, and clap their female joints I live with bread like you, feel want, taste grief, In stiff unwieldy arms against thy crown:

Need friends:- Subjected thus, Thy very beadsmen learn to bend their bows

How can you say to me - I am a king ? Of double-fatal yew against thy state ;

Car. My lord, wise men ne'er wail their present Yea, distaff-women manage rusty bills

woes, Against thy seat : both young and old rebel, But presently prevent the ways to wail. And all goes worse than I have power to tell. To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength, K. Rich. Too well, too well, thou tell'st a tale Gives, in your weakness, strength unto your foe,

And so your follies fight against yourself. Where is the earl of Wiltshire ? where is Bagot ? Fear, and be slain ; no worse can come, to fight : What is become of Bushy? where is Green ? And fight and die, is death destroying death; That they have let the dangerous enemy

Where fearing dying, pays death servile breath. Measure our confines with such peaceful steps ? Aum. My father hath a power, enquire of him ; If we prevail, their heads shall pay for it.

And learn to make a body of a limb. I warrant they have made peace with Bolingbroke. X. Rich. Thou chid'st me well :-Proud BolingScroop. Peace have they made with him, indeed,

broke, I come

To change blows with thee for our day of doom. K. Rich. O villains, vipers, damn'd without re- This ague-fit of fear is over-blown; demption !

An easy task it is, to win our own. Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man!

Say, Scroop, where lies our uncle with his power? Snakes, in my heart-blood warm'd, that sting my Speak sweetly, man, although thy looks be sour. heart!

Scroop. Men judge by the complexion of the sky Three Judasses, each one thrice worse than Judas ! The state and inclination of the day : Would they make peace ? terrible hell make war So may you by my dull and heavy eye, Upon their spotted souls for this offence !

My tongue bath but a heavier tale to say.
Scroop. Sweet love, I see, changing his property, I play the torturer, by small and small,
Turns to the sourest and most deadly hate : To lengthen out the worst that must be spoken :-
Again uncurse their souls; their peace is made Your uncle York hath join'd with Bolingbroke ;
With heads, and not with hands : those whom you And all your northern castles yielded up,

And all your southern gentlemen in arms
Have felt the worst of death's destroying wound, Upon his party
And lie full low, grar'd in the hollow ground. X. Rich. Thou hast said enough.

so ill.

my lord.

Beshrew thee, cousin, which didat lead me forth If not, I'll use the advantage of my power,

(TO AUMERLE. And lay the summer's dust with showers of blood, Of that sweet way I was in to "despair!

Rain'd from the wounds of slaughter'd Englishmen; What say you now? What comfort have we now? The which, how far off from the mind of Bolingbroke By beaven, r'll hate him everlastingly,

It is, such crimson tempest should bedrench That bids me be of comfort any more.

The fresh green lap of fair king Richard's land, Go to Flint castle; there I'll pine away;

My stooping duty tenderly shall show.
A king, woe's slave, shall kingly woe obey. Go, signify as much; while here we march
That power I have, discharge; and let them go Upon the grassy carpet of this plain. —
To ear the land that hath some hope to grow,

(NORTHUMBERLAND advances to the castle, Por I have none : - Let no man speak again

with a trumpet. To alter this, for counsel is but vain.

Let's march without the noise of threat'ning drum, Aum. My liege, one word.

That from the castle's totter'd battlements I. Rich.

He does me double wrong, Our fair appointments may be well perus'd. That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue. Methinks, king Richard and myself should meet Discharge my followers, let them hence ; — Away, With no less terror than the elements From Richard's night, to Bolingbroke's fair day. Of fire and water, when their thund'ring shock

[Exeunt. At meeting tears the cloudy cheeks of heaven.

Be he the fire, I'll be the yielding water: SCENE III. - Wales. Before Flint Castle. The rage be his, while on the earth I rain

My waters ; on the earth, and not on him. Enter, with drum and colours, BOLINGBROKE and March on, and mark king Richard how he looks. Forces ; YORK, NORTHUMBERLAND, and others.

A parle sounded, and answered by another trumpet Boling. So that by this intelligence we learn,

within. Flourish. The Welshmen are dispers'd; and Salisbury

Enter on the walls KING Is gone to meet the king, who lately landed,

RICHARD, the Bishop of CARLISLE, AUMERLI, With some few private friends, upon this coast.

North. The news is very fair, and good, my lord; York. See, see, king Richard doth himself appear,
Richard, not far from hence, hath hid his head. As doth the blushing discontented sun,
York. It would beseem the lord Northumberland, From out the fiery portal of the east ;
To say -king Richard :- Alack the heavy day, When he perceives the envious clouds are bent
When such a sacred king should hide his head ! To dim his glory, and to stain the track

North. Your grace mistakes me ; only to be brief, of his bright passage to the occident.
Left I his title out.

Yet looks he like a king ; behold, his eye,
The time hath been,

As bright as is the eagle's, lightens forth
Would you have been so brief with him, he would Controuling majesty ; Alack, alack, for woe,
Have been so brief with you, to shorten you, That any harm should stain so fair a show!
For taking so the head, your whole head's length. K. Rich. We are amaz'd; and thus long have we
Boling. Mistake not, uncle, further than you

stood should.

To watch the fearful bending of thy knee, York. Take not, good cousin, further than you


Because we thought ourself thy lawful king: Lest you mis-take: The heavens are o'er your head. And if we be, how dare thy joints forget Boling. I know it, uncle ; and oppose not

To pay their awful duty to our presence ? Myself against their will. But who comes here? If we be not, show us the hand of God

That bath dismiss'd us from our stewardship; Enter PERCY.

For well we know, no hand of blood and bone Well, Harry; what, will not this castle yield ? Can gripe the sacred handle of our scepter,

Penty. The castle royally is mann'd, my lord, Unless he do profane, steal, or usurp. Against thy entrance.

And though you think, that all, as you have done Boling. Royally!

Have torn their souls, by turning them from us, Why, it contains no king?

And we are barren, and bereft of friends ;Percy.

Yes, my good lord, Yet know,- my master, God omnipotent,
It doth contain a king; king Richard lies Is mustering in his clouds, on our behalf,
Within the limits of yon lime and stone :

Armies of pestilence; and they shall strike
And with him are the lord Aumerle, lord Salisbury, Your children yet unborn, and unbegot,
Sir Stephen Scroop; besides a clergyman

That lift your vassal hands against my head,
Of holy reverence, who, I cannot learn.

And threat the glory of my precious crown. North. Belike, it is the bishop of Carlisle. Tell Bolingbroke, (for yond', methinks, he is,) Boling. Noble lord,

[ To NORTH. That every stride he makes upon my land, Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle;

Is dangerous treason : He is come to ope Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parle The purple testament of bleeding war ; Into his ruin'd ears, and thus deliver.

But ere the crown he looks for live in peace, Harry Bolingbroke

Ten thousand bloody crowns of mothers' sons On both his knees, doth kiss king Richard's hand; Shall ill become the flower of England's face ; And sends allegiance, and true faith of heart, Change the complexion of her maid-pale peace To his most royal person : hither come

To scarlet indignation, and bedew Eren at his feet to lay my arms and power ;

Her pastures' grass with faithful English blood. Provided that, my banishment repeal'd,

North. The king of heaven forbid, our lord the And lands restor'd again, be freely granted :




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Should so with civil and uncivil arms

And make a dearth in this revolting land. Be rush'd upon! Thy thrice-noble cousin,

Or shall we play the wantons with our woes, Harry Bolingbroke, doth humbly kiss thy hand; And make some pretty match with shedding tears? And by the honourable tomb he swears,

As thus ; — To drop them still upon one place, That stands upon thy royal grandsire's bones ; Till they have fretted us a pair of graves And by the royalties of both your bloods,

Within the earth; and, therein laid, There lies Currents that spring from one most gracious head ; Two kinsmen, digg'd their graves with uceping eyes ? And by the buried hand of warlike Gaunt;

Would not this ill do well ? — Well, well, I see And by the worth and honour of himself,

I talk but idly, and you mock at me. — Comprising all that may be sworn or said,

Most mighty prince, my lord Northumberland, His coming hither hath no further scope,

What says king Bolingbroke? will his majesty Than for his lineal royalties, and to beg

Give Richard leave to live till Richard die? Enfranchisement immediate on his knees;

You make a leg, and Bolingbroke says - ay. Which on thy royal party granted once,

North. My lord, in the base court he doth attend His glittering arms he will commend to rust, To speak with you ; may't please you to come His barbed steeds to stables, and his heart

down? To faithful service of your majesty.

X. Rich. Down, down, I come; like glistering This swears he, as he is a prince, is just;

Phaeton, And, as I am a gentleman, I credit him.

Wanting the manage of unruly jades. K. Rich. Northumberland, say, - thus the king

(NORTH. retires to BOLING. returns ;

In the base court ? Base court, where kings grow His noble cousin is right welcome hither ;

base, And all the number of his fair demands

To come at traitors' calls, and do them grace. Shall be accomplish'd without contradiction : In the base court? Come down ? Down, court! With all the gracious utterance thou hast,

down king! Speak to his gentle hearing kind commends. For night-owls shriek, where mounting larks should We do debase ourself, cousin, do we not,


[Exeunt, from above. [To AUMEBLE. Boling. What says his majesty ? To look so poorly, and to speak so fair ?


Sorrow and grief of heart Shall we call back Northumberland, and send Makes him speak fondly, like a frantick man: Defiance to the traitor, and so die?

Yet he is come. Aum. No, good my lord ; let's fight with gentle

Enter King RICHARD, and his Attendants below. words, Till time lend friends, and friends their helpful and show fair duty to his majesty.

Boling. Stand all apart, swords. K. Rich. O God! O God! that e'er this tongue

My gracious lord,

[Kneeling: of mine,

K. Rich. Fair cousin, you debase your princely That laid the sentence of dread banishment

knee, On yon proud man, should take it off again

To make the base earth proud with kissing it: With words of sooth! O, that I were as great

Me rather had, my heart might feel your love, As is my grief, or lesser than my name!

Than my unpleas'd eye see your courtesy. Or that I could forget what I have been !

Up, cousin, up; your heart is up, I know, Or not remember what I must be now!

Thus high at least, (touching his own head. ) although Swell'st thou, proud heart? I'll give thee scope to

your knee be low. beat,

Boling. My gracious lord, I come but for mine Since foes have scope to beat both thee and me. Aum. Northumberland comes back from Boling

K. Rich. Your own is yours, and I am yours,

and all. broke. K. Rich. What must the king do now? Must he

Boling. So far be mine, my most redoubted lord, submit?

As my true service shall deserve your love. The king shall do it. Must he be depos'd ?

K. Rich. Well you deserve: - They well deserve The king shall be contented : Must he lose

to have, The name of king ? o'God's name, let it go :

That know the strong'st and surest way to get. I'll give my jewels, for a set of beads;

Uncle, give me your hand : nay, dry your eyes ; My gorgeous palace, for a hermitage ;

Tears show their love, but want their remedies. My gay apparel, for an alms-man's gown ;

Cousin, I am too young to be your father, My figur'd goblets, for a dish of wood;

Though you are old enough to be my heir. My scepter, for a palmer's walking-staff;

What you will have, I'll give, and willing too; My bjects, for a pair of carved saints ;

For do we must, what force will have us do. And my large kingdom for a little grave,

Set on towards London : Cousin, is it so? A little little grave, an obscure grave :

Boling. Yea, my good lord. Or I'll be buried in the king's highway,

K. Rich.

Then I must not say, no. Some way of common trade, where subjects' feet

(Flourish. Emul. May hourly trample on their sovereign's head:

SCENE IV. – Langley. The Duke of York's For on my heart they tread, now whilst I live;

And, buried once, why not upon my head ?
Aumerle, thou weep'st; My tender-hearted cou-

Enter the Queen and two Ladies.
sin ! -

Queen. What sport shall we devise here in this We'll make foul weather with despised tears;

garden, Our sighs, and they, shall lodge the summer corn, To drive away the heavy thought of care?



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