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Hold thy peace : —

Why dost thou say, king Richard is depos'd ? lle that hath suffer'd this disorder'd spring,

Dar'st thou, thou little better thing than earth, Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf : Divine his downfal ? Say, where, when and how, The weeds, that his broad-spreading leaves did Cam'st thou by these ill tidings ? speak, thou wretch. shelter,

Gard. Pardon me, madam : little joy have I, That seem'd in eating him to hold him


To breathe this news; yet, what I say, is true. Are pluck'd up, root and all, by Bolingbroke; King Richard, he is in the mighty hold I mean the earl of Wiltshire, Bushy, Green. Of Bolingbroke; their fortunes both are weigh'd: I Serv. What, are they dead ?

In your lord's scale is nothing but himself, Gard.

They are ; and Bolingbroke And some few vanities that make him light; Hath seiz'd the wasteful king. -- Oh! What pity But in the balance of great Bolingbroke, is it,

Besides himself, are all the English peers, That he had not so trimm'd and dress'd his land, And with that odds he weighis king Richard down. As we this garden! We at time of year

Post you to London, and you'll find it so ; Do wound the bark, the skin of our fruit-trees; I speak no more than every man doth know. Lest, being over-proud with sap and blood,

Queen. Nimble mischance, that art so light of foot, With too much riches it confound itself :

Doth not thy embassage belong to me, Had he done so to great and growing men, And am I last that knows it? O, thou think'st They might have liv'd to bear, and he to taste To serve me last, that I may longest keep Their fruits of duty. All superfluous branches Thy sorrow in my brcast. Coine, ladies, go, We lop away, that bearing boughs may live : To meet at London London's king in woe. — Had he done so, himself had borne the crown, What, was I born to this! that my sad look Which waste of idle hours hath quite thrown down. Should grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke ? 1 Serv. What, think you then, the king shall be Gardener, for telling me this news of woe, depos'd ?

I would the plants thou graft'st may never grow. Gard. Depress’d he is already; and depos'd,

[Exeunt Queen and Ladies. 'Tis doubt, he will be: Letters came last night Gard. Poor queen! so that thy state might be no To a dear friend of the good duke of York's, That tell black tidings.

I would, my skill were subject to thy curse. — Queen.

O, I am press'd to death, Here did she drop a tear; here, in this place, Through want of speaking ! Thou, old Adam's I'll set a bank of rue, sour herb of grace:

likeness, (Coming from her concealment. Rue, even for ruth, here shortly shall be seen, Set to dress this garden, how dares

In the remembrance of a weeping queen. Thy harsh-rude tongue sound this unpleasing news?




SCENE I. - London. Westminster-Hall. Aum.

Princes, and noble lords,

What answer shall I make to this base man? The Lords Spiritual on the right sidle of the Throne ; Shall I so much dishonour my fair stars, the Lords Temporal on the left; the Commons be

On equal terms to give him chastisement ? low. Enter BOLING BROKE, AUMERLE, SURREY, Either I must, or have mine honour soild NORTHUMBERLAND, Percy, Fitzwater, another With the attainder of his sland'rous lips. Lord, Bishop of CARLISLE, Abbot or WEST- There is my gage, the manual seal of deathi, MINSTER, and Attendants. Officers behind, with That marks thee out for hell: I say, thou liest, BAGOT.

And will maintain, what thou hast said, is false, Boling. Call forth Bagot:

In thy heart-blood, though being all too base Now, Bagot, freely speak thy mind;

To stain the temper of my knightly sword. What thou dost know of noble Gloster's death; Boling. Bagot, forbear, thou shalt not take it up. Who wrought it with the king, and who perform'd Aum. Excepting one, I would he were the best The bloody office of his timeless end?

In all this presence, that hath mov'd me so. Bagot. Then set before my face the lord Aumerle. Film. If that thy valour stand on sympathies, Boling. Cousin, stand forth, and look upon that There is my gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine :

By that fair sun that shows me where thou stand'st, Bagot. My lord Aumerle, I know your daring I heard thee say, and vauntingly thou spakost it, tongue

That thou wert cause of noble Gloster's death. Scorns to unsay what once it hath deliver'd. If thou deny'st it, twenty times thou liest; In that dead time when Gloster's death was plotted, And I will turn thy falsehood to thy heart, I heard you say,

Is not my arm of length, Where it was forged, with my rapier's point. That reacheth from the restful English court

Aum. Thou dar’st not, coward, live to see that day. As far as Calais, to my uncle's head ?

Fiz. Now, by my soul, I would it were this hour. Amongst much other talk, that very time,

dum. Fitzwater, thou art doom'd to hell for this. I heard you say, that you had rather refuse

l'ercy. Aumerle, thou liest ; his honour is as true, The offer of an hundred thousand crowns,

In this appeal, as thou art all unjust : Than Bolingbroke's return to England;

And, that thou art so, there I throw my gage, Adding withal, how blest this land would be, To prove it on thee to the extremest point In this your cousin's death.

Of mortal breathing ; seize it, if thou darist.



dum. And if I do not, may my hands rot off, Boling. In God's name, I'll ascend the regal throne. And never brandish more revengeful steel

Car. Marry, God forbid ! Over the glittering helmet of my foe!

Worst in this royal presence may I speak, Lord. I take the earth to the like, forsworn Au-Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth.

Would God, that any in this noble presence And spur thee on with full as many lies

Were enough noble to be upright judge As may be holla'd in thy treacherous ear

Of noble Richard ; then true nobless would From sun to sun: there is my honour's pawn;

Learn him forbearance from so foul a wrong, Engage it to the trial, if thou dar'st.

What subject can give sentence on his king? Aum. Who sets me else? by heaven, I'll throw And who sits here, that is not Richard's subject ? at all :

Thieves are not judg’d, but they are by to hear, I have a thousand spirits in one breast,

Although apparent guilt be seen in them; To answer twenty thousand such as you.

And shall the figure of God's majesty, Surrey. My lord Fitzwater, I do remember well His captain, steward, deputy elect, The very time Aumerle and you did talk.

Anointed, crowned, planted many years,
Fitz. My lord, 'tis true: you were in presence then; Be judg’d by subject and inferior breath,
And you can witness with me, this is true. And he himself not present? O, forbid it, God,

Surrey. As false, by heaven, as heaven itself is true. That, in a Christian climate, souls refin'd
Fitz. Surrey, thou liest.

Should show so heinous, black, obscene a deed ! Surrey.

Dishonourable boy ! I speak to subjects, and a subject speaks, That lie shall lie so heavy on my sword,

Stirr'd up by heaven thus boldly for his king. That it shall render vengeance and revenge, My lord of Hereford here, whom you call king, Till thou the lie-giver, and that lie, do lie

Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford's king : In earth as quiet as thy father's skull.

And if you crown him, let me prophesy, In proof whereof, there is my honour's pawn; The blood of English shall manure the ground, Engage it to the trial, if thou dar’st.

And future ages groan for this foul act; Fitz. How tondly dost thou spur a forward horse! Peace shall go sleep with Turks and Infidels, If I dare eat, or drink, or breathe, or live,

And, in this seat of peace, tumultuous wars I dare meet Surrey in a wilderness,

Shall kin with kin, and kind with kind confound; And spit upon him, whilst I say, he lies,

Disorder, horror, fear, and mutiny,
And lies, and lies: there is my bond of faith, Shall here inhabit, and this land be callid
To tie thee to my strong correction.

The field of Golgotha, and dead men's skulls. As I intend to thrive in this new world,

O, if thou rear this house against this house, Aumerle is guilty of my true appeal :

It will the woefullest division prove,
Besides, I heard the banish'd Norfolk say,

That ever fell upon this cursed earth :
That thou, Aumerle, didst send two of thy men Prevent, resist it, let it not be so,
To execute the noble duke at Calais.

Lest child, child's children, cry, against you - woe ! Aum. Some honest Christian trust me with a gage, North. Well have you argu'd, sir ; and, for your That Norfolk lies : here do I throw down this,

pains, If he may be repeal’d to try his honour.

Of capital treason we arrest you here : Boling. These differences shall all rest under gage, My lord of Westminster, be it your charge Till Norfolk be repeal'd: repeal'd he shall be, To keep him safely till his day of trial. And, though mine enemy, restor'd again

May't please you, lords, to grant the commons' suit. To all his land and signories ; when he's return'd, Boling. Fetch hither Richard, that in common view Against Aumerle we will enforce his trial. He may surrender ; so we shall proceed

Car. That honourable day shall ne'er be seen. — Without suspicion. Many a time hath banish'd Norfolk fought


I will be his conduct. (Ert. For Jesu Christ ; in glorious Christian field

Boling. Lords, you that are here under our arrest, Streaming the ensign of the Christian cross, Procure your sureties for your days of answer :Against black Pagans, Turks, and Saracens ; Little are we beholden to your love, [Tv Carlisle.. And, toil'd with works of war, retir'd himself And little look'd for at your helping hands. To Italy; and there at Venice, gave

Re-enter YORK, with King RICHARD, and Officers His body to that pleasant country's earth, And his pure soul unto his captain Christ,

bearing the Crown, &c. Under whose colours he had fought so long.

K. Rich. Alack, why am I sent for to a king, Boling. Why, bishop, is Norfolk dead ?

Before I have shook off the regal thoughts Car. As sure as I live, my lord.

Wherewith I reign'd? I hardly yet have learn'd Boling. Sweet peace conduct his sweet soul to To insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my knee: the bosom

Give sorrow leave a while to tutor me Of good old Abraham! – Lords appellants,

To this submission. Yet I well remember Your differences shall all rest under gage,

The favours * of these men : Were they not mine? Till we assign you to your days of trial.

Did they not sometime cry, all hail ! to me ?

To do what service am I sent for hither ?
Enter York, attended.

York. To do that office, of thine own good will, York. Great duke of Lancaster, I come to thee

Which tired majesty did make thee offer, From plume-pluck'd Richard ; who with willing soul The resignation of thy state and crown Adopts thee heir, and his high scepter yields

To Henry Bolingbroke. To the possession of thy royal hand :

K. Rich. Give me the crown:- Here, cousin,

seize the crown; Ascend his throne, descending now from him, Aud long live Henry, of that name the fourth!

4 Countenances.

B b



Here, on this side, my hand; on that side, thine. But they can see a sort 7 of traitors here.
Now is this golden crown like a deep well,

Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon myself,
That owes 5 two buckets filling one another; I find myself a traitor with the rest :
The emptier ever dancing in the air,

For I have given here my soul's consent, The other down, unseen, and full of water : To undeck the pompous body of a king; That bucket down, and full of tears, am I,

Make glory base; and sovereignty, a slave ; Drinking my griefs, whilst you mount up on high. Proud majesty, a subject; state, a peasant.

Boling. I thought you had been willing to resign. Nurth. My lord, K. Rich. My crown, I am ; but still my griefs K. Rich. No lord of thine, thou haught, insultare mine :

ing man, You may my glories and my state depose,

Nor no man's lord; I have no name, no title, But not my grief; still am I king of those. No, not that name was given me at the font, Boling. Part of your cares you give me with your But 'tis usurp'd: — Alack the heavy day,

That I have worn so many winters out, X. Rich. Your cares set up do not pluck my And know not now what name to call myself! cares down.

O, that I were a mockery king of snow, My care is — loss of care, by old care done; Standing before the sun of Bolingbroke, Your care is — gain of care, by new care won: To melt myself away in water-drops ! The cares I give, I have, though given away;

Good king,

great king, - (and yet not greatly They tend the crown, yet still with me they stay

good,) Boling. Are you contented to resign the crown ? An if my word be sterling yet in England K. Rich. Ay, no;-no, ay; — For I must nothing Let it command a mirror hither straight; be;

That it may show me what a face I have, Therefore no no, for I resign to thee.

Since it is bankrupt of his majesty. Now mark me how I will undo myself:

Boling. Go, some of you, and fetch a lookingI give this heavy weight from off my head,


[Erit an Attendant. And this unwieldy scepter from my hand,

North. Read o'er this paper, while the glass doth The pride of kingly sway from out my heart ; With mine own tears I wash away my balm, K. Rich. Fiend! thou torment'st me. With mine own hands I give away my crown, Boling. Urge it no more, my lord Northumberland, With mine own tongue deny my sacred state,

North. The commons will not then be satisfied. With mine own breath release all duteous oaths : K. Rich. They shall be satisfied: I'll read enough, All pomp and majesty I do forswear ;

When I do see the very book indeed My manors, rents, revenues, I forego;

Where all my sins are writ, and that's myself. My acts, decrees, and statutes, I deny :

Re-enter Attendant, with a Glass.
God pardon all oaths, that are broke to me!

Give me that glass, and therein will I read.
God keep all vows unbroke, are made to thee!
Make me, that nothing have, with nothing griev'd; So many blows upon this face of mine,

No deeper wrinkles yet ? Hath sorrow struck And thou with all pleas'd, that hast all achiev'd !

And made no deeper wounds? -0, flattering glass, Long mayst thou live in Richard's seat to sit,

Like to my followers in prosperity, And soon lie Richard in an earthy pit!

Thou dost beguile me! Was this face the face, God save king Henry, unking'd Richard says,

That every day under his household roof And send him many years of sunshine days !

Did keep ten thousand men? Was this the face, What more remains ?

That, like the


did make beholders wink? North. No more, but that you


Was this the face, that fac'd so many follies,

(Offering a Puper. And was at last out-fac'd by Bolingbroke? These accusations, and these grievous crimnes,

A brittle glory shineth in this ace : Committed by your person, and your followers,

As brittle as the glory is the face ; Against the state and profit of this land;

(Dasheth the Glass against the ground. That, by confessing them, the souls of men

For there it is, crack'd in a hundred shivers. May deem that you are worthily depos’d.

Mark, silent king, the moral of this sport, K. Rich. Must I do so ? and must I ravel out

How soon my sorrow hath destroy'd my face. My weav'd up follies ? Gentle Northumberland,

Boling. The shadow of your sorrow hath destroy'd If thy offences were upon record,

The shadow of your face. Would it not shame thee in so fair a troop,

K. Rich.

Say that again. To read a lecture of them ? If thou wouldst,

The shadow of my sorrow? Ha! let's see : There shouldst thou find one heinous article,

'Tis very true, my grief lies all within ; Containing the deposing of a king,

And these external manners of lament And cracking the strong warrant of an oath,

Are merely shadows to the unseen grief, Mark'd with a blot, mark'd in the book of heaven:

That swells with silence in the tortur'd soul; Nay, all of you, that stand and look upon me,

There lies the substance: and I thank thee, king, Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait myself,

For thy great bounty, that not only giv'st Though some of you are showing outward pity,

Me cause to wail, but teachest me the way Have here deliver'd me to my sour cross,

How to lament the cause. I'll beg one boon, And water cannot wash away your sin.

And then be gone, and trouble you no more. North. My lord, despatch : read o'er these ar

Shall I obtain it ? ticles.


Name it, fair cousin. K. Rich. Mine eyes are full of tears, I cannot see :

K. Rich. Fair cousin ? Why, I am greater than And yet salt water blinds them not so much,

a king : 6 Oil of consecration.

7 Pack.


For, when I was a king, my flatterers

Boling. On Wednesday next, we solemnly set down Were then but subjects; being now a subject, Our coronation : lords, prepare yourselves. I have a king here to my flatterer.

(Ereunt all but the ABBOT, Bishop or Being so great, I have no need to beg.

CARLISLE, and AUMERLE. Boling. Yet ask.

Abbot. A woeful pageant have we here beheld. K. Rich. And shall I have ?

Car. The woe's to come; the children yet unborn Boling. You shall.

Shall feel this day as sharp to them as thorn. K. Rich. Then give me leave to go.

Aum. You holy clergymen, is there no plot Buling. Whither?

To rid the realm of this pernicious blot ? K. Rich. Whither you will, so I were from your Abbot. Before I freely speak my mind herein, sights.

You shall not only take the sacrament
Boling. Go, some of you, convey him to the Tower. To bury mine intents, but to effect
K. Rich. O, good! Convey ? — Conveyers 8 are Whatever I shall happen to devise :

I see your brows are full of discontent,
That rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall. Your hearts of sorrow, and your eyes of tears;

(Eseunt King RICHARD, some Lords, and come home with me to supper; I will lay
a Guard.

A plot, shall show us all a merry day. (Exeunt.

you all,


SCENE I.- London. A Street leading to the Tower. Think, I am dead; and that even here thou tak'st,

As from my death-bed, my last living leave.
Enter QUEEN, and Ladies.

In winter's tedious nights, sit by the fire,
Queen. This way the king will come; this is the way With good old folks; and let them tell thee tales
To Julius Cæsar's ill-erected tower 9,

Of woeful ages, long ago betid : To whose flint bosom my condemned lord

And, ere thou bid good night, to quit ' their grief, Is doom'd a prisoner, by proud Bolingbroke :

Tell thou the lamentable fall of me, Here let us rest, if this rebellious earth

And send the hearers weeping to their beds. Have any resting for her true king's queen.

For why, the senseless brands will sympathize

The heavy accent of thy moving tongue, Enter King RICHARD, and Guards. And, in compassion, weep the fire out: But soft, but see, or rather do not see,

And some will mourn in ashes, some coal-black, My fair rose wither: Yet look up; behold;

For the deposing of a rightful king.
That you in pity may dissolve to dew,

Enter NORTHUMBERLAND, attended.
And wash him fresh again with true-love tears.
Ah, thou, the model where old Troy did stand;

North. My lord, the mind of Bolingbroke is Thou map of honour; thou king Richard's tomb,

chang'd; And not king Richard ; thou most beauteous inn,

You must to Pomfret, not unto the Tower. Why should hard-favour'd grief be lodg'd in thee,

And, madam, there is order ta'en for you; When triumph is become an ale-house guest ?

With all swift speed you must away to France. K. Rich. Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so,

K. Rich. Northumberland, thou ladder where

withal To make my end too sudden : learn, good soul, To think our former state a happy dream;

The mounting Bolingbroke ascends my throne, From which awak'd, the truth of what we are

The time shall not be many hours of age Shows us but this : I am sworn brother, sweet,

More than it is, ere foul sin, gathering head, To grim necessity; and he and I

Shall break into corruption : thou shalt think, Will keep a league till death. Hie thee to France, Though he divide the realm, and give thee half, And cloister thee in some religious house :

It is too little, helping him to all; Our holy lives must win a new world's crown,

And he shall think, that thou, which know'st the way Which our profane hours here have stricken down.

To plant unrightful kings, wilt know again, Queen. What

, is my Richard both in shape and Being ne'er so little urg'd, another way mind

To pluck him headlong from the usurped throne.

The love of wicked friends converts to fear; Transform'd, and weaken'd? Hath Bolingbroke Depos'd thine intellect? hath he been in thy heart? That fear, to hate ; and hate turns one, or both, The lion, dying, thrusteth forth his paw,

To worthy danger, and deserved death. And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with rage

North. My guilt be on my head, and there an end. To be o'erpower'd; and wilt thou, pupil-like,

Take leave, and part; for you must part forthwith. Take thy correction mildly? kiss the rod,

K. Rich. Doubly divorc'd ? — Bad men, ye violate And fawn on rage with base humility,

A two-fold marriage; 'twixt my crown and me; Which art a lion, and a king of beasts?

And then, betwixt me and my married wife. K. Rich. A king of beasts, indeed! if aught but Let me unkiss the oath 'twixt thee and me; beasts,

And yet not so, for with a kiss 'twas made. I had been still a happy king of men.

Part us, Northumberland; I towards the north, Good sometime queen, prepare thee hence for Where shivering cold and sickness pines the clime ; France :

My wife to France; from whence, set forth in pomp, • Jugglers, also robbers. • Tower of London,

1 Requite, repay.


She came adorned hither like sweet May,

But dust was thrown upon his sacred head ; Sent back like Hallowmas?, or short'st of day. Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off,

Queen. And must we be divided ? must we part? His face still combating with tears and smiles, K. Rich. Ay, hand from hand, my love, and heart The badges of his grief and patience, from heart.

That, had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd Queen. Banish us both, and send the king with me. The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted, North. That were some love, but little policy. And barbarism itself have pitied him. Queen. Then whither he goes, thither let me go. But heaven hath a hand in these events;

K. Rich. So two, together weeping, make one woe. To whose high will we bound our calm contents. Weep thou for me in France, I for thee here; To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now, Better far off, than ncar, be ne'er the near'. Whose state and honour I for aye allow. Go, count thy way with sighs; I, mine with groans. Queen. So longest way shall have the longest


Duch. Here comes my son Aumerle. K. Rich. Twice for one step I'll groan, the way York.

Aumerle that was; being short,

But that is lost, for being Richard's friend, And piece the way out with a heavy heart.

And, madam, you must call him Rutland now : Come, come, in wooing sorrow, let's be brief, I am in parliament pledge for his truth, Since, wedding it, there is such length in grief. And lasting fealty to the new-made king. One kiss shall stop our mouths, and dumbly part ; Duch. Welcome, my son: Who are the violets now, Thus give I mine, and thus I take thy heart. That strew the green lap of the new-come spring?

[They kiss.

Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not: Queen. Give me mine own again ; 'twere no good Heaven knows, I had as lief be none, as one. part,

York. Well, bear you well in this new spring of To take on me to keep and kill thy heart.


(Kiss again. Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime, So, now I have mine own again, begone,

What news from Oxford ? hold those justs 3 and That I may strive to kill it with a groan.

triumphs ? K. Rich. We make woe wanton with this fond

Aum. For aught I know, my lord, they do, delay :

York. You will be there, I know, Once more adieu ; the rest let sorrow say.

Anm. I purpose so.

(Ereunt. York. What seal is that, that hangs without thy SCENE II. - The same. A Room in the Duke

bosom? of York's Palace.

Yea, look'st thou pale? let me see the writing. Enter York, and his Duchess.

Aum. My lord, 'tis nothing. Duch. My lord, you told me, you would tell the York.

No matter then who sees it : rest,

I will be satisfied, let me see the writing. When weeping made you break the story off,

Aum. I do beseech your grace to pardon me; Of our two cousins coming into London.

It is a matter of small consequence, York. Where did I leave ?

Which for some reasons I would not have seen. Duch. At that sad stop, my lord,

York. Which for some reasons, sir, I mean to see. Where rude misgovern'd hands, from windows' tops, | I fear, I fear, Threw dust and rubbish on king Richard's head. Duch.

What should you fear ? York. Then, as I said, the duke, great Boling- 'Tis nothing but some bond that he is enter'd into broke,

For gay apparel, 'gainst the triumph day. Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed,

York. Bound to himself? what doth he with a bond Which his aspiring rider seem'd to know,

That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a fool. With slow, but stately pace, kept on his course, Boy, let me see the writing. While all tongues cried God save thee, Boling- Aum. I do beseech you, pardon me; I may not broke!

show it. You would have thought the very windows spake,

York. I will be satisfied ; let me see it, I say. So many greedy looks of young and old

(Snatches it, and reads. Through casements darted their desiring eyes Treason ! foul treason! villain! traitor! slave! Upon his visage; and that all the walls,

Duch. What is the matter, my lord ? With painted imag'ry, had said at once, –

York. Ho! who is within there? (Enter a Servant. Jesu preserve thee! welcome, Bolingbroke:

Saddle my horse. Whilst he, from one side to the other turning, Heaven for his mercy! what treachery is here! Bareheaded, lower than his proud steed's neck, Duch. Why, what is it, my lord ? Bespake them thus, — I thank you, countrymen : York. Give me my boots, I ay; saddle my And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along.

horse : Duch. Alas, poor Richard ! where rides he the Now by mine honour, by my life, my troth, while ?

I will appeach the villain.

( Exil Servant. York. As, in a theatre, the eyes of men,


What's the matter? After a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage,

York. Peace, foolish woman. Are idly bent on him that enters next,

Duch. I will not peace :

What is the matter, Thinking his prattle to be tedious : Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes Aum. Good mother, be content; it is no more Did scowl on Richard; no man cried, God save him! Than my poor life must answer. No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home : Duch.

Thy life answer! Allhallows, i. e, All-saints, Nov. 1.


3 Tilts and tournaments.

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