Imatges de pàgina
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With fingers long, small, white as milk;
Or when she would with sharp neeld' wound
The cambric, which she made more sound
By hurting it; or when to the lute
She sung, and made the night-bird mute,
That still records with moan; or when
She would with rich and constant pen
Vail to her mistress Dian; still
This Philoten contends in skill
With absolute3 Marina: so

With the dove of Paphos might the crow
Vie feathers white. Marina gets
All praises, which are paid as debts,
And not as given. This so darks
In Philoten all graceful marks,
That Cleon's wife, with envy rare,
A present murderer does prepare
For good Marina, that her daughter
Might stand peerless by this slaughter.
The sooner her vile thoughts to stead;
Lychorida, our nurse, is dead;
And cursed Dionyza hath

The pregnant instrument of wrath

Prest for this blow. The unborn event

I do commend to your content:

Only I carry winged time

Post on the lame feet of my ryhme;
Which never could I so convey,

Unless your thoughts went on my way.-
Dionyza does appear,

With Leonine, a murderer.

[Exit.

SCENE I.-Tharsus. An open place near the sea-shore. Enter Dionyza and Leonine.

Dion. Thy oath remember; thou hast sworn to do it:

'Tis but a blow, which never shall be known.
Thou canst not do a thing i'the world so soon,
To yield thee so much profit. Let not conscience,
Which is but cold, inflame love in thy bosom,
Inflame too nicely; nor let pity, which
Even women have cast off, melt thee, but be
A soldier to thy purpose.

Leon. I'll do't; but yet she is a goodly creature.
Dion. The fitter then the gods should have her.
Here

Weeping she comes for her old nurse's death.

Thou art resolv'd? Leon.

I am resolv'd.

Enter Marina, with a basket of flowers. Mar. No, no, I will rob Tellus of her weed,

To strew thy green with flowers: the yellows, blues, The purple violets, and marigolds,

Shall, as a chaplet, hang upon thy grave,

Mar. No, I pray you;

I'll not bereave you of your servant. Dion.

Come, come;

I love the king your father, and yourself,
With more than foreign heart. We every day
Expect him here: when he shall come, and find
Our paragon to all reports, thus blasted,

He will repent the breadth of his great voyage;
Blame both my lord and me, that we have ta en
No care to your best courses. Go, I pray you,
Walk, and be cheerful once again; reserve
That excellent complexion, which did steal
The eyes of young and old. Care not for me;
I can go home alone.
Well, I will go;

Mar.

But yet I have no desire to it.

Dion. Come, come, I know 'tis good for you. Walk half an hour, Leonine, at the least; Remember what I have said.

Leon. I warrant you, madam. Dion. I'll leave you, my sweet lady, for a while; Pray you walk softly, do not heat your blood: What! I must have a care of you.

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Is this wind westerly that blows?
Leon.

South-west. Mar. When I was born, the wind was north. Leon.

Was❜t so?

Mar. My father, as nurse said, did never fear,
But cry'd, good seamen! to the sailors, galling
His kingly hands with hauling of the ropes;
And, clasping to the mast, endur'd a sea
That almost burst the deck, and from the ladder-
tackle

Wash'd off a canvas-climber: Ha! says one,
Wilt out? and, with a dropping industry,

They skip from stem to stern: the boatswain whistles,

The master calls, and trebles their confusion.
Leon. And when was this?
Mar.

It was when I was born:

Never was waves nor wind more violent.
Leon. Come, say your prayers speedily.
Mar.
What mean you?
Leon. If you require a little space for prayer,
I grant it: Pray; but be not tedious,
For the gods are quick of ear, and I am sworn
To do my work with haste.

Mar.

Why, will you kill me?

Leon. To satisfy my lady.
Mar. Why would she have me kill'd!
Now, as I can remember, by my troth,
I never did her hurt in all my life;
I never spake bad word, nor did ill turn

While summer days do last. Ah me! poor maid, To any living creature: believe me, la,

Born in a tempest, when my mother died,
This world to me is like a lasting storm,
Whirring me from my friends.

Dion. How now, Marina! why do you keep alone?

I never kill'd a mouse, nor hurt a fly:
I trod upon a worm against my will,
But I wept for it. How have I offended,
Wherein my death might yield her profit, or
My life imply her danger?
Leon.

My commission Is not to reason of the deed, but do it.

How chance my daughter is not with you? Do not
Consume your blood with sorrowing: you have
A nurse of me. Lord! how your favour's' chang'd Mar. You will not do't for all the world, I hope.
With this unprofitable wo! Come, come;
You are well-favour'd, and your looks foreshow
Give me your wreath of flowers. Ere the sea mar it, You have a gentle heart. I saw you lately,
Walk forth with Leonine; the air is quick there, When you caught hurt in parting two that fought:
Piercing, and sharpens well the stomach. Come;-Good sooth, it show'd well in you; do so now:
Leonine, take her by the arm, walk with her.

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Your lady seeks my life; come you between,
And save poor me, the weaker.

(8) i. e. Ere the sea, by the coming in of the tide, mar your walk.

(9) A ship-boy.

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[Leonine runs away.

2 Pirate. A prize! a prize! 3 Pirate. Half-part, mates, half-part. let's have her aboard suddenly.

Come, [Exeunt Pirates with Marina.

Re-enter Leonine.

SCENE II.-The same.
Leon. These roving thieves serve the great pi-
rate Valdes;

And they have seiz'd Marina. Let her go:
There's no hope she'll return. I'll swear she's dead,
And thrown into the sea.-But I'll see further;
Perhaps they will but please themselves upon her,
Not carry her aboard. If she remain,
Whom they have ravish'd, must by me be slain.
[Exit.
SCENE III.-Mitylene. A room in a brothel.
Enter Pander, Bawd, and Boult.

Pand. Boult.

Boult. Sir.

Pand. Search the market narrowly; Mitylene is full of gallants. We lost too much money this mart, by being too wenchless.

Bawd. We were never so much out of creatures. We have but poor three, and they can do no more than they can do; and with continual action are even as good as rotten.

Pand. Therefore let's have fresh ones, whate'er we pay for them. If there be not a conscience to be us❜d in every trade, we shall never prosper.

Bawd. Thou say'st true: 'tis not the bringing up of poor bastards, as I think I have brought up some eleven

Boult. Ay, to eleven, and brought them down again. But shall I search the market?

Bawd. Boult, has she any qualities? Boult. She has a good face, speaks well, and has excellent good clothes; there's no further necessity of qualities can make her be refused. Bawd. What's her price, Boult?

Boult. I cannot be bated one doit of a thousand pieces.

Pand. Well, follow me, my masters; you shall have your money presently. Wife, take her in; instruct her what she has to do, that she may not be raw in her entertainment.

[Exeunt Pander and Pirates, Bawd. Boult, take you the marks of her; the colour of her hair, complexion, height, age, with warrant of her virginity; and cry, He that will give most shall have her first. Such a maidenhead were no cheap thing, if men were as they have been. Get this done as I command you.

Boult. Performance shall follow. [Exit Boult.
Mar. Alack, that Leonine was so slack, so slow!

(He should have struck, not spoke ;) or that these
pirates

(Not enough barbarous,) had not overboard
Thrown me, to seek my mother!

Bawd. Why lament you, pretty one?

Mar. That I am pretty.

Bawd. Come, the gods have done their part in you.

Mar. I accuse them not.

Bard. You are lit into my hands, where you are like to live.

Mar. The more my fault,

To 'scape his hands, where I was like to die.
Bawd. Ay, and you shall live in pleasure.
Mar. No.

Bawd. Yes, indeed, shall you, and taste gentlemen of all fashions. You shall fare well; you shall have the difference of all complexions. What! do you stop your ears?

Mar. Are you a woman?

Bawd. What would you have me be, an I be

Bawd. What else, man? The stuff we have, a strong wind will blow it to pieces, they are so piti-not a woman? fully sodden.

Pand. Thou say'st true; they are too unwholesome o'conscience. The poor Transilvanian is dead, that lay with the little baggage.

Boult. Ay, she quickly poop'd him; she made him roast meat for worms:-but I'll go search the market. [Exit Boult. Pand. Three or four thousand chequins were as pretty a proportion to live quietly, and so give over. Bawd. Why, to give over, I pray you? is it a shame to get when we are old?

Pand. 8, our credit comes not in like the commodity; nor the commodity wages not with the danger; therefore, if in our youths we could pick up some pretty estate, 'twere not amiss to keep our door hatched. Besides, the sore terms we stand upon with the gods, will be strong with us for giving

over.

Bawd. Come, other sorts offend as well as we. Pand. As well as we! ay, and better too; we offend worse. Neither is our profession any trade; it's no calling :-but here comes Boult. Enter the Pirates, and Boult, dragging in Marina. Boult. Come your ways. [To Marina.]-My masters, you say she's a virgin?

1 Pirate. O, sir, we doubt it not.

Bout. Master, I have gone thorough for this piece, you see: if you like her, so; if not, I have lost my earnest.

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Mar. An honest woman, or not a woman. Bawd. Marry, whip thee, goslin: I think I shall have something to do with you. Come, you are a young foolish sapling, and must be bowed as I would have you.

Mar. The gods defend me!

Bawd. If it please the gods to defend you by men, then men must comfort you, men must feed you, men must stir you up.-Boult's returned.

Enter Boult.

Now, sir, hast thou cried her through the market?

Boult. I have cried her almost to the number of her hairs; I have drawn her picture with my voice. Bawd. And I pr'ythee tell me, how dost thou find the inclination of the people, especially of the younger sort?

Boult. 'Faith, they listened to me, as they would have hearkened to their father's testament. There was a Spaniard's mouth so watered, that he went to bed to her very description.

Bawd. We shall have him here to-morrow with his best ruff on.

Boult. To-night, to-night. But, mistress, do you know the French knight that cowers3 i'the hams? Bawd. Who? monsieur Veroles?

Boult. Ay; he offered to cut a caper at the proclamation; but he made a groan at it, and swore he would see her to-morrow.

Bawd. Well, well; as for him, he brought his dis

(3) Bends.

3 L

ease hither: here he does but repair it. I know,| Dion.
he will come in our shadow, to scatter his crowns
in the sun.

Boult. Well, if we had of every nation a traveller, we should lodge them with this sign.

Bawd. Pray you, come hither a while. You have fortunes coming upon you. Mark me; you must seem to do that fearfully, which you commit willingly; to despise profit, where you have most gain. To weep that you live as you do, makes pity in your lovers: Seldom, but that pity begets you a good opinion, and that opinion a mere' profit.

Mar. I understand you not.

Boult. O, take her home, mistress, take her home: these blushes of hers must be quenched with some present practice.

Bawd. Thou say'st true, i'faith, so they must: for your bride goes to that with shame, which is her way to go with warrant.

Boult. 'Faith some do, and some do not. But, mistress, if I have bargained for the joint,

Bawd. Thou may'st cut a morsel off the spit.
Boult. I may so.

Bawd. Who should deny it? Come, young one,
I like the manner of your garments well.
Boult. Ay, by my faith, they shall not be changed
yet.

Bawd. Boult, spend thou that in the town: rcport what a sojourner we have; you'll lose nothing by custom. When nature framed this piece, she meant thee a good turn; therefore say what a paragon she is, and thou hast the harvest out of thine own report.

Boull. I warrant you, mistress, thunder shall not so awake the beds of eels, as my giving out her beauty stir up the lewdly inclined. I'll bring home some to-night.

Bawd. Come your ways; follow me.

Mar. If fires be hot, knives sharp, or waters deep,
Untied I still my virgin knot will keep.
Diana, aid my purpose!

Bawd. What have we to do with Diana! Pray
you, will you go with us?
[Exeunt.

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You'll turn a child again.

I think

?

Cle. Were I chief lord of all the spacious world,
I'd give it to undo the deed. O lady,
Much less in blood than virtue, yet a princess
To equal any single crown o'the earth,
I'the justice of compare! O villain Leonine,
Whom thou hast poison'd too!

If thou had'st drunk to him, it had been a kindness
Becoming well thy feet:2 what canst thou say,
When noble Pericles shall demand his child?
Dion. That she is dead. Nurses are not the fates,
To foster it, nor ever to preserve.

She died by night; I'll say so. Who can cross it?
Unless you play the impious innocent,3
And for an honest attribute, cry out,
She died by foul play.

Cle.

O, go to. Well, well,

Of all the faults beneath the heavens, the gods
Do like this worst.

(1) An absolute, a certain profit.

(2) i. e. Of a piece with the rest of thy exploit.

(3) An innocent was formerly a common appellation for an idiot.

Be one of those, that think

The petty wrens of Tharsus will fly hence,
And open this to Pericles. I do shame
To think of what a noble strain you are,
And of how cow'd a spirit.

Cle.

To such proceeding

Who ever but his approbation added,
Though not his pre-consent, he did not flow
From honourable courses.
Dion.
Be it so then:
Yet none does know, but you, how she came dead;
Nor none can know, Leonine being gone.
She did disdain my child, and stood between
Her and her fortunes: None would look on her,
But cast their gazes on Marina's face;
Whilst ours was blurted at, and held a malkin,*
Not worth the time of day. It pierc'd me thorough;
And though you call my course unnatural,
You not your child well loving, yet I find,
It greets me, as an enterprize of kindness,
Perform'd to your solc' daughter.
Cle.

Heavens forgive it!

Dion. And as for Pericles,
What should he say? We wept after her hearse,
And even yet we mourn: her monument
Is almost finish'd, and her epitaphs
In glittering golden characters express
A general praise to her, and care in us
At whose expense 'tis done.
Cle.
Thou art like the harpy,
Which, to betray, doth wear an angel's face, -
Seize with an eagle's talons.

Dion. You are like one, that superstitiously
Doth swear to the gods, that winter kills the flies;
But yet I know you'll do as I advise. [Exeuni
Enter Gower, before the monument of Marina at
Tharsus.

Gow. Thus time we waste, and longest leagues
make short;

Sail seas in cockles, have, and wish but for't;
Making (to take your imagination,)
From bourn to bourn," region to region.
By you being pardon'd, we commit no crime
To use one language in each several elime,
Where our scenes seem to live. I do beseech you,
To learn of me, who stand i'the gap to teach you
The stages of our story. Pericles

Is now again thwarting the wayward seas
(Attended on by many a lord and knight,)
To see his daughter, all his life's delight.
Old Escanes, whom Helicanus late
Advanc'd in time to great and high estate,
Is left to govern. Bear you it in mind,
Old Helicanus goes along behind.
Well-sailing ships, and bounteous winds, have
brought

This king to Tharsus, (think his pilot thought;
So with his steerage shall your thoughts grow on,)
To fetch his daughter home, who first is gone.
Like motes and shadows see them move a while;
Your ears unto your eyes I'll reconcile.

Dumb show. Enter at one door, Pericles, with
his train; Cleon and Dionyza at the other.
Cleon shows Pericles the tomb of Marina; where
at Pericles makes lamentation, puts on sackcloth.
and in a mighty passion departs. Then Cleon
and Dionyza retire.

Gow. See how belief may suffer by foul show!

(4) A coarse wench, not worth a good-morrow.
(5) Only.
(6) Travelling.
(7) From one boundary to another.

Bawd. Now, the gods bless your honour!
Boult. I am glad to see your honour in good

This borrow'd passion stands for true old wo;
And Pericles, in sorrow all devour'd,
With sighs shot through, and biggest tears o'er-health.
shower'd,

Leaves Tharsus, and again embarks. He swears
Never to wash his face, nor cut his hairs;
He puts on sackcloth, and to sea. He bears

A tempest, which his mortal vessel' tears,
And yet he rides it out. Now please you wit
The epitaph is for Marina writ

By wicked Dionyza.

[Reads the inscription on Marina's monument. The fairest, sweet'st, and best, lies here, Who wither'd in her spring of year.

She was of Tyrus, the king's daughter,

On whom foul death hath made this slaughter,
Marina was she call'd; and at her birth,
Thetis, being proud, swallow'd some part o'the
earth:

Therefore the earth, fearing to be o'erflow'd,
Hath Thetis' birth-child on the heavens bestow'd:
Wherefore she does, (and swears she'll never stint^)
Make raging battery upon shores of flint.
No visor does become black villany,
So well as soft and tender flattery.
Let Pericles believe his daughter's dead,
And bear his courses to be ordered

By lady Fortune; while our scenes display
His daughter's wo and heavy well-a-day,
In her unholy service. Patience then,
And think you now are all in Mitylen.

[Exit.

SCENE V.-Mitylene. A street before the brothel. Enter, from the brothel, two Gentlemen.

1 Gent. Did you ever hear the like?

2 Gent. No, nor never shall do in such a place as this, she being once gone.

1 Gent. But to have divinity preached there! did you ever dream of such a thing?

Lys. You may so; 'tis the better for you that your resorters stand upon sound legs. How now, wholesome iniquity? Have you that a man may deal withal, and defy the surgeon?

Bawd. We have here one, sir, if she wouldbut there never came her like in Mitylene.

Lys. If she'd do the deeds of darkness, thou would'st say.

Bawd. Your honour knows what 'tis to say, well enough.

Lys. Well; call forth, call forth.

Boult. For flesh and blood, sir, white and red, you shall see a rose; and she were a rose indeed, if she had but

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2 Gent. No, no. Come, I am for no more bawdy-to houses: shall we go hear the vestals sing?

1 Gent. I'll do any thing now that is virtuous; but I am out of the road of rutting, for ever.

[Exeunt. SCENE VI.-The same. A room in the brothel. Enter Pander, Bawd, and Boult.

Pand. Well, I had rather than twice the worth of her, she had ne'er come here.

Bawd. Fie, fie upon her; she is able to freeze the god Priapus, and undo a whole generation. We must either get her ravished, or be rid of her. When she should do for clients her fitment, and do me the kindness of her profession, she has me her quirks, her reasons, her master-reasons, her prayers, her kuces; that she would make a puritan of the devil, if he should cheapen a kiss of her.

Boult. Faith, I must ravish her, or she'll disfurnish us of all our cavaliers, and make all our swearers priests.

Pand. Now, the pox upon her green-sickness for me!

Bawd. 'Faith, there's no way to be rid on't, but by the way to the pox. Here comes the lord Lysimachus, disguised.

Boult. We should have both lord and lown, if the peevish baggage would but give way to customers.

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Mar. If he govern the country, you are bound him indeed; but how honourable he is in that,

I know not.

Bawd. 'Pray you, without any more virginal fencing, will you use him kindly? He will line your apron with gold.

fully receive.
Mar. What he will do graciously, I will thank-

Lys. Have you done?

Bawd. My lord, she's not paced yet; you must take some pains to work her to your manage. Come, we will leave his honour and her together. [Exeunt Bawd, Pander, and Boult. Lys. Go thy ways-Now, pretty one, how long have you been at this trade!

Mar. What trade, sir?

Lys. What I cannot name but I shall offend. Mar. I cannot be offended with my trade. Please you to name it.

Lys. How long have you been of this profession?
Mar. Ever since I can remember.
Lys. Did you go to it so young? Were you a
gamester at five, or at seven?

Mar. Earlier too, sir, if now I be one.

Lys. Why, the house you dwell in, proclaims you to be a creature of sale.

Mar. Do you know this house to be a place of such resort, and will come into it? I hear say, you are of honourable parts, and are the governor of this place.

Lys. Why, hath your principal made known unto you, who I am?"

Mar. Who is my principal?

(5) How much? what price? (6) A wanton.

Lys. Why, your herb-woman; she that sets seeds
and roots of shame and iniquity. O, you have heard
something of my power, and so stand aloof for more
serious wooing. But I protest to thee, pretty one,
my authority shall not see thee, or else look friendly
upon thee.
Come, bring me to some private place.
Come, come.

Mar. If ye were born to honour, show it now;
If put upon you, make the judgment good
That thought you worthy of it.

Lys. How's this? how's this?-Some more;be sage.

Mar. For me,

That am a maid, though most ungentle fortune
Hath plac'd me here within this loathsome sty,
Where, since I came, diseases have been sold'
Dearer than physic,-O that the good gods
Would set me free from this unhallow'd place,
Though they did change me to the meanest bird
That flies i'the purer air!
I did not think

Lys.

Thou could'st have spoke so well; ne'er dream'd thou could'st.

Had I brought hither a corrupted mind,

Boult. An if she were a thornier piece of ground than she is, she shall be ploughed. Mar. Hark, hark, you gods!

Bawd. She conjures: away with her. Would she had never come within my doors! Marry hang you! She's born to undo us. Will you not go the way of woman-kind? Mary come up, my dish of chastity with rosemary and bays! [Exil Bawd. Boult. Come, mistress; come your way with me. Mar. Whither would you have me?

Boult. To take from you the jewei you hold so dear.

Mar. Pr'ythee, tell me one thing first.
Boull. Come now, your one thing.

Mar. What canst thou wish thine enemy to be? Boult. Why, I could wish him to be my master, or rather, my mistress.

Mar. Neither of these are yet so bad as thou art,
Since they do better thee in their command.
Thou hold'st a place, for which the painedst fiend
Of hell would not in reputation change:
Thou'rt the damn'd door-keeper to every coystrel
That hither comes inquiring for his tib;
To the choleric fisting of each rogue thy ear

Thy speech had alter'd it. Hold, here's gold for Is liable; thy very food is such

thee:

Perséver still in that clear way thou goest,

And the gods strengthen thee!
Mar. The gods preserve you!
Lys.
For me, be you thoughten
That I came with no ill intent; for to me
The very doors and windows savour vilely.
Farewell. Thou art a piece of virtue, and
I doubt not but thy training hath been noble.-
Hold; here's more gold for thee.-

A curse upon him, die he like a thief,

As hath been belch'd on by infected lungs.

Boult. What would you have me? go to the wars, would you; where a man may serve seven years for the loss of a leg, and have not money enough in the end to buy him a wooden one?

Mar. Do any thing but this thou doest. Empty
Old receptacles, common sewers, of filth;
Serve by indenture to the common haugman;
Any of these ways are better yet than this:
For that which thou professest, a baboon,
Could he but speak, would own a name too dear:

That robs thee of thy goodness! If thou hear'st O that the gods would safely from this place

from me,

It shall be for thy good.

[As Lysimachus is putting up his purse,
Boult enters.

Boult. I beseech your honour, one piece for me.
Lys. Avaunt, thou damned door-keeper! Your
house,

But for this virgin that doth prop it up,
Would sink, and overwhelm you all. Away!
[Exit Lysimachus.
Boult. How's this? We must take another course
with you. If your peevish chastity, which is not
worth a breakfast in the cheapest country under
the cope,' shall undo a whole household, let me be
gelded like a spaniel. Come your ways.

Mar. Whither would you have me?
Boull. I must have your maidenhead taken off,
or the common hangman shall execute it. Come
your way. We'll have no more gentlemen driven
away. Come your ways, I say.

Re-enter Bawd.

Bawd. How now! what's the matter?
Boult. Worse and worse, mistress; she has here
spoken holy words to the lord Lysimachus.
Bawd. O abominable!

Boult. She makes our profession as it were to stink afore the face of the gods.

Bawd. Marry, hang her up forever! Boult. The nobleman would have dealt with her like a nobleman, and she sent him away as cold as a snowball; saying his prayers too.

Bawd. Boult, take her away; use her at thy pleasure: crack the glass of her virginity, and

make the rest malleable.

(1) Cope or canopy of heaven. (2) Paltry fellow.

Deliver me? Here, here is gold for thee.
If that thy master would gain aught by me,
Proclaim that I can sing, weave, sew, and dance,
With other virtues, which I'll keep from boast;
And I will undertake all these to teach.
I doubt not but this populous city will
Yield many scholars.

Boult. But can you teach all this you speak of?
Mar. Prove that I cannot, take me home again,
And prostitute me to the basest groom
That doth frequent your house.

Boult. Well, I will see what I can do for thee: if I can place thee, I will.

Mar. But, amongst honest women?

Boult. 'Faith, my acquaintance lies little amongst them. But since my master and mistress have bought you, there's no going but by their consent; therefore I will make them acquainted with your purpose, and I doubt not but I shall find them iractable enough. Come, I'll do for thee what I can; come your ways. [Exeunt.

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