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Look, when a painter would surpass the life, Now was she just before him as he sat,
In limning out a well-proportion'd steed,

And like a lowly lover down she kneels;
His art with Nature's workmqoship at strife, With one fair hand she heaveth up his hat,
As if the dead the living sbould exceed;

Her other tender hand his fair cheeks feels : So did this horse excel a common one,

His tender cheeks receive her soft hands' print, In shape, in courage, colour, pace, and bone. As apt as new fallen snow takes any dint. Round-hoofd, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long, what a war of looks was then between them ! Broad breast, full eyes, small head, and nostril Her eyes, petitioners, to his eyes suing ; wide,

(strong, His eyes saw her eyes as they had not seen them; High crest, short ears, straight legs, and passing Her eyes woo'd still, his eyes disdain'd the woo

Thiu rane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide: Look what a horse should have, he did not lack, And all this dumb play had his acts made plain Save a proud rider on so proud a back.

With tears, which, chorus-like, her eyes did rain. Sometimes he scuds far off, and there he stares, Full gently now she takes him by the hand, Anon he starts at stirring of a feather ;

A lily prison'd in a jail of snow,
To bid the wind a base he now prepares,

Or ivory in an alabaster band ;
And whêr he run, or fly, they know not whether; So white a friend engirts so white a foe :
For through his mane and tail the high wind sings, This beauteous combat, wilful and unwilling,
Fanning the hairs, who wave like feather'd wings. Show'd like to silver doves that sit a billing.
He looks upon his love, and neighs unto her;

Once more the engine of her thoughts began : She answers bim, as if she knew his mind :

“O fairest mover on this mortal round, Being proud, as females are, to see him woo her,

Would thou wert as I am, and I a mans, She puts on outward strangeness, seems unkind; For one sweet look thy help I would assure thee,

My heart all whole as thine, thy heart my wound; Spurns at his love, and scorns the heat he feels, Beating his kind embracements with her heels.

Though nothing but my body's baue would cure

thee." Then, like a melancholy male-content,

Give me my hand,” saith he, “why dost thou He vails his tail, that, like a falling plume,

feel it?"

[have it ; Cool shadow to his inelting buttocks lent;

“Give me my heart," saith she, "and thou shalt He stamps, and bites the poor flies in his fume:

O give it me, lest thy hard heart do steel it, His love perceiving how he is enrag'd,

And, being steel'd, soft sighs can never grave it : Grew kinder, and his fury was assuag'd.

Then love's deep groans I never shall regard,

Because Adonis' heart hath made mine hard." His testy master goeth about to take him ;

When lo, the unback'd breeder, full of fear, “ For shame," he cries, “ let go, and let me go ; Jealous of catching, swiftly doth forsake him, My day's delight is past, my horse is gone,

With her the horse, and left Adonis there: And 't is your fault I am bereft him so ; As they were mad, unto the wood they bie them, I pray you hence, and leave me here alone; Out-stripping crows that strive to over-fly them. For all my mind, iny thought, my busy care,

Is how to get my palfrey from the mare." All swoln with chasing, down Adonis sits,

Banning his boisterous and unruly beast; Thus she replies: “Thy palfrey, as he should, And now the happy season once more fits,

Welcomes the warm approach of sweet desire. That love-sick love by pleading may be bless'd; Affection is a coal that must be coold; For lovers say, the heart hath treble wrong,

Else, suffer'd, it will set the heart on fire : When it is barr'd the aidance of the tongue. The sea hath bounds, but deep desire hath none,

Therefore no marvel though thy horse be gone. An oven that is stopp'd, or river stay'd, Burneth more hotly, swelleth with more rage:

“ How like a jade he stood, tied to a tree, So of concealed sorrow may be said ;

Servilely master'd with a leathern rein! Free vent of words love's fire doth assuage;

But when he saw his love, his youth's fair fec, But when the heart's attorney once is mute

He held such petty bondage in disdain ; The client breaks, as desperate in his suit.

Throwing the base thong from his bending erest,

Enfranchising his mouth, bis back, his breast. He sees her coming, and begins to glow,

“ Who sees his true love in her naked bed, (Even as a dying coal revives with wind)

Teaching the sheets a wbiter hue than white, And with his bonnet hides his angry brow;

But, when his glutton eye so full bath fed, Looks on the dull earth with disturbed mind;

His other agents aim at like delight? Taking no notice that she is so nigh,

Who is so faint, that dare not be so bold, For all askaunce he holds her in his eye.

To touch the fire, the weather being cold? O what a sight it was, wistly to view

“ Let me excuse thy courser, gentle boy ; How she came stealing to the wayward boy ! And learn of him, I heartily beseech thee, To note the fighting confiet of her hue!

To take advantage on presented joy; How white and red each other did destroy ! Though I were dumb, yet his proceedings teach But now, her cheek was pale, aud by and by O learn to love; the lesson is but plain, [thee. It flash'd forth fire, as lightning from the sky. And, once made perfect, never lost again.

«! know not love,” quoth be, “ vor will I know it, | And in amaze brake off his late intent, Unless it be a boar, and then I chase it :

For sharply he did think to reprehend her, T is much to borrow, and I will not owe it; Which cunning love did wittily prevent : My love to love is love bat to disgrace it;

Fair fall the wit that can so well defend her! For I have heard it is a life in death,

Por on the grass she lies as she were slain, That laughs, and weeps, and all but with a breath. Till his breath breatheth life in her again. "Who wears a garment shapeless and unfinish'd ? He wrings her nose, he strikes her on the cheeks, · Who plucks the bud before one leaf put forth? He bends her fingers, holds her pulses hard ; If springing things be any jot diminisha,

He chafes her lips, a thousand ways he seeks They wither in their prime, prove nothing worth : To mend the hurt that his unkindness marr'd; The colt that 's back'd and burthen'd being young, He kisses her; and she, by her good will, Loseth his pride, and never waxeth strong. Will uever rise, so he will kiss her still, * You hurt my hand with wringing ; let us part, The night of sorrow now is turn'd to day:

And leave this idle theme, this bootless chat : Her two blue windows faintly she up-heaveth, Remove your siege from my unyielding heart ; Like the fair Sun, when in his fresh array To love's alarm it will not ope the gate.

He cheers the morn, and all the world relieveth: Dismiss your vows, your feigned tears, your flattery; And as the bright Sun glorifies the sky, For where a heart is hard, they make no battery.” So is her face illumind with her eye, What! canst thou talk," quoth she, “ hast thou Whose beams upon his bairless face are fir'd;

they their shine. O would thou hadst not, or I had no hearing! Were never four such lamps together mix'd, Thy mermaid's voice hath done me double wrong;

Had not his clouded with his brows' repine; I had my load before, now press'd with bearing: But hers, which through the crystal tears gave light, Melodious discord, heavenly tune harsh-sounding,

Shone like the Moon, in water seen by night. Earth's deep-sweet music, and heart's deep-sore wounding.

0, where am I ?" quoth she, “ in Earth or Hea

ven,
* Had I no eyes, but ears, my ears would love Or in the ocean drench'd, or in the fire ?
That inward beauty and invisible;

What hour is this? or morn or weary even?
Or, were I deaf, thy outward parts would more Do I delight to die, or life desire ?
Each part in me that were but sensible :

But now I liv'd, and life was death's annoy ;
Though neither eyes por ears, to hear nor see,

But now I dy'd, and death was lively joy. Yet should I be in love, by touching thee.

“ O thou didst kill me ;-kill me once again: “ Say, that the sense of feeling were bereft me, Thy eyes' shrewd tutor, that hard heart of thine,

And that I could not see, nor hear, nor touch, Hath taught them scornful tricks, and such disdain, And nothing but the very smell were left me, That they have murder'd this poor heart of mine;

Yet would my love to thee be still as much; And these mine eyes, true leaders to their qucen, For from the still'tory of thy face excelling [ing. But for thy pitecus lips no more had seen. Comes breath perfum'd, that breatheth love by smell" But 0, what banquet wert thou to the taste,

“ Long may they kiss each other, for this cure!

Oh, never let their crimson liveries wear!
Being nurse and feeder of the other four !
Would they not wish the feast should ever last,

And as they last, their verdure still endure,

To drive infection from the dangerous year! And bid Suspicion double-lock the door? Last Jealousy, that sour unwelcome guest,

That the star-gazers, having writ on death, Should, by his stealing in, disturb the feast.”

May say, the plague is banish'd by thy breath. Ouce more the ruby-colour'd portal open'd,

“ Pure lips, sweet seals in my soft lips imprinted, Which to his speech did honey passage yield;

What bargains may I make, still to be sealing ? Like a red morn, that ever get betoken'd

To sell myself I can be well contented, Wreck to the sea-man, tempest to the field,

So thou wilt buy, and pay, and use good dealing ; Sorrow to shepherds, woe unto the birds,

Which purchase if thou make, for fear of slips, Gast and foul laws to herdmen and to herds.

Set thy seal-manual, on my wax-red lips. This ill presage advisedly she marketh :

“ A thousand kisses buys my heart from me; Even as the wind is hush'd before it raineth, And pay them at thy leisure, one by one. Or as the wolf doth grin before he barketh, What is ten hundred kisses unto thee? Or as the berry breaks before it staineth,

Are they not quickly told, and quickly gone? Or like the deadly bullet of a gun,

Say, for non-payment that the debt should double, His ineaning struck her ere bis words begun. Is twenty hundred kisses such a trouble ?” And at his look she flatly falleth down,

“Fair queen,” quoth he,“ if any love you owe me, For looks kill love, and love by looks reviveth. Measure my strangevess with my unripe years; A sole recures the wounding of a frown,

Before I know myself, seek not to know me; But blessed bankrupt, that by love so thriveth! No fisher but the ungrown fry forbears : The silly boy believing she is dead,

The mellow plumb doth fall, the green sticks fast, Claps her pale cheek, till clapping makes it red; Or, being early pluck’d, is sour to taste.

“ Look, the world's comforter, with weary gait, “ The boar!" quoth she; whereat a sudden pale.

His day's hot task hath ended in the west: Like lawn being spread upon the blushing rose, The owl, night's herald, shrieks, 't is very late; Usurps her cheeks ; she trembles at his tale,

The sheep are gone to fold, birds to their nest; And on his neck her yoking arms she throws : The coal-black clouds that shadow Heaven's light, She siuketh down, still hanging on his neck, Do summon us to part, and bid good night. He on her belly falls, she on her back. “ Now let me say good night, and so say you ; Now is she in the very lists of love, If you will say so, you shall have a kiss.”

Her champion mounted for the hot encouuter : “ Good night," quoth she; and ere he says adieu, | All is imaginary she doth prove, The honey fee of parting tender'd is :

He will not manage her, although he mount her ; Her arms do lend his neck a sweet embrace; That worse than Tantalus' is her annoy, Incorporate then they seem ; face grows to face. To clip Elysium, and to lack her joy. Till, breathless, he disjoin'd, and backward drew Even as poor birds, deceiv'd with painted grapes,

The heavenly moisture, that sweet coral mouth, Do surfeit by the eye, and pine the maw, Whose precious taste her thirsty lips well knew, Even so she languisheth in her mishaps,

Whereon they surfeit, yet complain on drought: As those poor birds that helpless berries saw : He with her plenty press'd, she faint with dearth, The warm effects which she in him finds missing, (Their lips together glew's) fall to the earth. She seeks to kindle with continual kissing. Now quick desire hath caught her yielding prey, But all in vain ; good queen, it will not be:

And glutton-like she feeds, yet never filleth; She hath assay'd as much as may be prov'd ; Her lips are conquerors, his lips obey,

Her pleading bath deserv'd a greater fee; Paying what ransom the insulter willeth ;

She 's love, she loves, and yet she is not lov'd. Whose vulture thought doth pitch the price so high, “Fie, fie!” he says, “ you crush me; let me go; That sbe will draw his lips' rich treasure dry. You have no reason to withhold me so." And having felt the sweetness of the spoil, “ Thou hadst been gone,' quoth she," sweet boy, With blind-fold fury she begins to forage;

ere this,

[boar. Her face doth reek and smoke, ber blood doth boil, But that thou told'st me, thou would'st hunt the

And careless Just stirs up a desperate courage; O be advis'd; thou know'st not what it is Planting oblivion, beating reason back,

With javelin's point a churlish swine to gore, Forgetting shame's pure blush, and honour's wrack. Whose tushes, never-sheath'd, he whetteth still,

Like to a mortal butcher, bent to kill.
Hot, faint, and weary, with her hard embracing,
Like a wild bird being tam'd with too much han « On his bow-back he hath a battle set
dling,

Of bristly pikes, that ever threat his foes;
Or as the feet-foot roe, that 's tir'd with chasing, His eyes, like glow-worms shine when he doth fret;

Or like the froward infant, still’d with dandling, His snout digs sepulchres where'er he goes; He now obeys, and now no more resisteth, Being mov'd, he strikes whate'er is in his way, While she takes all she can, not all she listeth. And whom he strikes his crooked tushes slay. What was so frozen but dissolves with temp'ring, “ His brawny sides, with hairy bristles armed,

And yields at last to every light impression ? Are better proof than thy spear's point can enter; Things out of hope are compass'd oft with vent'ring, His short thick neck cannot be easily harmed ;

Chiefly in love, whose leave exceeds commission : Being ireful, on the lion he will venture: Affection faints not like a pale-fac'd coward, The thorny brambles and embracing bushes, But then woos best, when most his choice is froward. As fearful of him, part; through whom he rushes, When he did frown, O bad she then gave over,

“ Alas! he nought esteems that face of thine, Such nectar from his lips she had not suck'd.

To which Love's eye pays tributary gazes ; Foul words and frowns must not repel a lover;

Nor thy soft hands, sweet lips, and crystal eyne, What though the rose have pricks? yet is it Were beauty under twenty locks kept fast, (pluck'd: But having thee at vantage (wondrous dread!)

Whose full perfection all the world amazes ; Yet love breaks through, and picks them all at last.

Would root these beauties as he roots the mead. For pity now she can no more detain him; The poor fool prays her that he may depart:

“O! let him keep his loathsome cabin still; She is resolv'd no longer to restrain him;

Beauty hath nought to do with such foul fiends. Bids him farewell, and look well to her heart,

Come not within his danger by thy will; The which, by Cupid's bow she doth protest,

They that thrive well, take counsel of their friends. He carries thence incaged in his breast.

When thou did'st name the boar, not to dissemble,

I fear’d thy fortune, and my joints did tremble. “ Sweet boy," she says, “ this night I'll waste in sor. row,

“Did'st thou not mark my face? was it not wbite! For my sick heart commands mine eyes to watch. Saw'st thou not signs of fear Jurk in mine eye? Tell me, love's master, shall we meet to morrow ? Grew I not faint ? And fell I not downright?

Say, shall we shall we ? wilt thou make the Within my bosom, whereon thon dost lie, He tells her, no; to morrow he intends [match?” My boding heart pants, beats, and takes no rest, To hunt the boar with certain of his friends. But, like an earthquake, shakes thee on my breast.

* For where love reigns, disturbing Jealousy “ Lie quietly, and hear a little more; Doth call himself affection's centinel;

Nay, do not struggle, for thou shalt not rise : Gives false alarms, suggesteth mutiny,

To make thee hate the hunting of the boar, And in a peaceful hour doth cry, kill, kill! Unlike thyself, thou hear'st me moralize, Distemp’ring gentle love with bis desire,

Applying this to that, and so to so; As air and water doth abate the fire.

For love can comment upon every woe. * This sour informer, this bate-breeding spy, “Where did I leave?"_" No matter where,"quoth

This canker that eats up love's tender spring, “ Leave me, and then the story aptly ends ; [he; This carry-tale, dissensious Jealousy, [bring, The night is spent.” “Why, what of that?" quoth That sometimes true news, sometimes false doth

she; Knocks at my heart, and whispers in mine ear, “I am,” quoth he, “ expected of my friends, That if I love thee, I thy death should fear: And now 't is dark, and going I shall fall.”

“ In night,” quoth she, “ desire sees best of all. " And more than so, presenteth to mine eye The picture of an angry-chafing boar,

“ But":f thou fall, O then imagine this, Under whose sharp fangs on his back doth lie The Earth in love with thee thy footing trips,

An image like thyself, all stain'd with gore; And all is but to rob thee of a kiss. Whose blood upon the fresh flowers being shed, Rich preys make rich men thieves ; so do thy Doth make them droop with grief, and hang the Make modest Dian cloudy and forlorn, [lips head.

Lest she should steal a kiss, and die forsworn. " What should I do, seeing thee so indeed, “ Now, of this dark night I perceive the reason : That trembling at th' imagination,

Cynthia for shame obscures her silver shine, The thought of it doth make my faint heart bleed? Till forging Nature be condemn'd of treason, And fear doth teach it divination :

For stealing moulds from Heaven that were divine, I prophesy thy death, my living sorrow,

Wherein she fram'd thee in high Heaven's despite, If thou encounter with the boar to morrow. To shame the Sun by day, and her by night. " But if thou needs wilt huet, be ruld by tae; “ And therefore hath she brib'd the Destinies, Uncouple at the timorous flying hare,

To cross the curious workmanship of Nature, Or at the fox, which lives by subtilty,

To mingle beauty with infirmities, Or at a roe, which no encounter dare:

And pure perfection with impure defcature; Pursue these fearful creatures o'er the downs, Making it subject to the tyranny And on thy well-breath'd horse keep with thy hounds. Of sad mischances and much misery; “ And when thou bast on foot the purblind hare, “ As burning fevers, agues pale and faint,

Mark the poor wretch to overshut his troubles, Life-poisoning pestilence, and frenzies wood, How he out-runs the wind, and with what care The marrow-eating sickness, whose attaint

He cranks and crosses, with a thousand doubles : Disorder breeds by heating of the blood : The many musits through the which he goes, Surfeits, impostumes, grief, and damn’d despair, Are like a labyrinth to amaze his foes.

Swear Nature's death for framing thee so fair. “ Sometime he runs among the flock of sheep, “ And not the least of all these maladies,

To make the cunning hounds mistake their smell; But in one minute's sight brings beauty under : And sometime where earth-delving conies keep, Both favour, savour, hue, and qualities, To stop the loud pursuers in their yell;

Whereat th' imperial gazer late did wonder, And sometime sorteth with a herd of deer; Are on the sudden wasted, thaw'd and done, Danger deviseth shifts; wit waits on fear: As mountain-snow melts with the mid-day Sun. “ For there his smell with others being mingled, “ Therefore, despite of fruitless chastity,

The hot scent-snuffing hounds are driven to doubt, Love-lacking vestals,' and self-loving nuns, Ceasing their clamorous cry till they have singled That on the Earth would breed a scarcity,

With much ado the cold fault cleanly out; And barren dearth of daughters and of sons,
Then do they spend their mouths: Echo replies, Be prodigal: the lamp that burns by night,
As if another chase were in the skies.

Dries up his oil, to lend the world bis light. " By this, poor Wat, far off upon a hill,

“ What is thy body but a swallowing grave, Stands on his binder legs with listening ear, Seeming to bury that posterity To hearken if his foes pursue him still;

Which by the rights of time thou needs must have, Anon their loud alarums he doth hear;

If thou destroy them not in their obscurity ? And now his grief may be compared well

If so, the world will hold thee in disdain, To one sore-sick, that hears the passing bell. Sith in thy pride so fair a hope is slain. " Then shalt thou see the dew-bedabbled wretch “ So in thyself thyself art made away;

Turn, and return, indenting with the way ; A mischief worse than civil home-bred strife, Each envious briar his weary legs doth scratch, Or their's, whose desperate hands themselves do

Each shadow makes him stop, each murmur stay: Or butcher-sire, that reaves his son of life. (slay, For misery is trodden on by many,

Foul cankering rust the hidden treasure frets, And, being low, never reliev'd by any.

But gold that 's put to use, more gold begets.

“ Nay then,” quoth Adon, “you will fall again And now she beats her heart, whereat it groans, Into your idle over-handled themes

That all the neighbour-caves,as seeming troubled, The kiss I gave you is bestow'd in vain,

Make verbal repetition of her moans; And all in vain you strive against the stream ; Passion on passion deeply is redoubled: (woe!” For by this black-fac'd night, desire's foul nurse, “Ah, me!" she cries, and twenty times, “ woe, Your treatise makes me like you worse and worse. And twenty echoes twenty times cry so. “ If love have lent you twenty thousand tongues, She, marking them, begins a wailing note,

And every tongue more moving than your own, And sings extemp'rally a woeful ditty ; Bewitching like the wanton mermaid's songs, How lore makes young men thrall, and old men

Yet from mine ear the tempting tune is blown; How love is wise in folly, foolish-witty: [dote; For know, my heart stands armed in my ear, Her heavy anthem still concludes in woe, And will not let a false sound enter there;

And still the choir of echoes answers so. Lest the deceiving harmony should run

Her song was tedious, and outwore the night, Into the quiet closure of my breast;

For lovers' hours are long, thongh seeming short : And then my little heart were quite undone, If pleas'd themselves, others, they think, delight In his bedchamber to be barr'd of rest.

In such-like circumstance, with sucb-like sport: No, lady, no; my heart longs not to groan, Their copious stories, oftentimes begun, But soundly sleeps, while now it sleeps alone. End without audience, and are never done. “ What have you urg'd that I cannot reprove ? For who hath she to spend the night withal,

The path is smooth that leadeth unto danger; But idle sounds, resembling parasites,
I hate not love, but your device in love,

Like shrill-tongu'd tapsters, answering every call,
That lends embracements unto every stranger. Soothing the humour of fantastic wits?
You do it for increasc: O strange excuse !

She said, “ 't is so:" they answer all, “ 't is so :"
When reason is the bawd to lust's abuse.

And would say after her, if she said no. " Call it not love, for Love to Heaven is filed, Lo! here the gentle lark, weary of rest,

Since sweating Lust on Earth usurps his name; From his moist cabinet mounts up on high,
Under whose simple semblance he hath fed And wakes the moruing, from whose silver breast

Upon fresh beauty, blotting it with blame; The Sun ariseth in his majesty;
Which the hot tyrant stains, and soon bereaves, Who doth the world so gloriously behold,
As caterpillars do the tender leaves.

That cedar-tops and bills seem burnish'd gold.

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row

Love comforteth, like sun shine after rain, Venus salutes him with this fair good morrow : But lust's effect is tempest after sun;

“ O thou clear god, and patron of all light, Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain, from whom each lamp and shining star doth bor.

Lust's winter comes ere summer half be done. Love surfeits not ; lust like a glutton dies:

The beauteous influence that makes him bright, Love is all truth ; lust full of forged lies.

There lives a son, that suck'd an earthly mother,

May lend thee light, as thou dost lend to other." “ More I could tell, but more I dare not say; The text is old, the orator too green.

This said, she hasteth to a myrtle grove,
Therefore, in sadness now I will away;

Musing the morning is so much o'erwor,
My face is full of shame, my heart of teen ; And yet she hears no tidings of her love :
Mine ears that to your wanton talk attended, She hearkens for his hounds, and for his horn :
Do burn themselves for having so offended.” Anon she bears them chant it lustily,

And all in haste she coasteth to the cry.
With this, he breaketh from the sweet embrace

Of those fair arms which bound him to her breast, And as she runs, the bushes in the way And homeward through the dark lawns runs apace;

Some catch her by the neck, some kiss her face, Leaves Love upon her back deeply distress'd. Some twine about her thigh to make her stay; Look how a bright star shooteth from the sky,

She wildly breaketh from their strict embrace, So glides he in the night from Venus' eye;

Like a milch doe, whose swelling dugs do ache,

Hasting to feed her fawn hid in some brake.
Which after him she darts, as one on shore
Gazing upon a late embarked friend,

By this, she hears the bounds are at a bay,
Till the wild waves will have him seen no more,

Whereat she starts, like one that spies an adder Whose ridges with the meeting clouds contend;

Wreati'd up in fatal folds, just in his way,

The fear whereof doth make him shake and sbudSo did the merciless and pitchy night Fold in the object that did feed her sight,

Even so the timorous yelping of the hounds [der :

Appals her senses, and her spright confounds.
Whereat amaz'd, as one that unaware

For now she knows it is no gentle chase,
Hath dropp'd a precious jewel ju the fford, But the blunt boar, rough bear, or lion proud,
Or 'stonish'd as night-wanderers often are, Because the cry remaineth in one place,

Their light blown out in some mistrustful wood; Where fearfully the dogs exclaim aloud:
Even so confounded in the dark she lay,

Finding their enemy to be so curst,
Having lost the fair discovery of her way. They all strain court'sy who shall cope him first.

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