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As thou art to this hour, was Richard then
When I from France set foot at Ravenspurg;
And even as I was then, is Percy now.
Now by my sceptre, and my soul to boot,
He hath more worthy interest to the state,
Than thou, the shadow of succession:
For, of no right, nor colour like to right,
He doth fill fields with harness in the realm;
Turns head against the lion's armed jaws;
And, being no more in debt to years than thou,
Leads ancient lords and reverend bishops on,
To bloody battles, and to bruising arms.
What never-dying honour hath he got
Against renowned Douglas; whose high deeds,
Whose hot incursions, and great name in arms,
Holds, from all soldiers chief majority,
And military title capital,

Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge Christ?
Thrice hath this Hotspur Mars in swathing clothes,
This infant warrior in his enterprizes
Discomfited great Douglas: ta'en him once,
Enlarged him, and made a friend of him,
To fill the mouth of deep defiance up,

And shake the peace and safety of our throne.
And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland,
The archbishop's grace of York, Douglas, Mortimer,
Capitulate against us, and are up.

But wherefore do I tell these news to thee?
Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes,
Which art my near'st and dearest1 enemy?
Thou that art like enough, — through vassal fear,
Base inclination, and the start of spleen,
To fight against me under Percy's pay,
To dog his heels, and court'sy at his frowns,
To show how much thou art degenerate.

P. Hen. Do not think so, you shall not find it so;
And heaven forgive them, that have so much sway'd
Your majesty's good thoughts away from me!
I will redeem all this on Percy's head,
And in the closing of some glorious day,
Be bold to tell you that I am you son;

When I will wear a garment all of blood,
And stain my favours in a bloody mask,
Which wash'd away, shall scour my shame with it.
And that shall be the day, whene'er it lights,
That this same child of honour and renown,
This gallant Hotspur, this all-praised knight,
And your unthought-of Harry, chance to meet :
For every honour sitting on his helm,
'Would they were multitudes; and on my head
My shames redoubled! for the time will come,
That I shall make this northern youth exchange
His glorious deeds for my indignities.
Percy is but my factor, good my lord,
To engross up glorious deeds on my behalf;
And I will call him to so strict account,
That he shall render every glory up,
Yea, even the slightest worship of his time,
Or I will tear the reckoning from his heart.
This, in the name of God, I promise here:
The which if he be pleas'd I shall perform,
I do beseech your majesty, may salve
The long-grown wounds of my intemperance':
If not the end of life cancels all bands ;
And I will die a hundred thousand deaths,
Ere break the smallest parcel of this vow.

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K. Hen. A hundred thousand rebels die in this: -Thou shalt have charge, and sovereign trust, herein.

Enter BLUNT.

How now,
, good Blunt? thy looks are full of speed.
Blunt. So hath the business that I come to speak of.
Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word,
That Douglas, and the English rebels, met
The eleventh of this month at Shrewsbury:
A mighty and a fearful head they are,
If promises be kept on every hand,
As ever offer'd foul play in a state.

K. Hen. The earl of Westmoreland set forth to-day;
With him my son, lord John of Lancaster;
For this advertisement is five days old:
On Wednesday next, Harry, you shall set
Forward; on Thursday, we ourselves will march:
Our meeting is Bridgnorth: and, Harry, you,
Shall march through Glostershire; by which account,
Our business valued, some twelve days hence
Our general forces at Bridgnorth shall meet.
Our hands are full of business: let's away;
Advantage feeds him fat, while men delay.


SCENE III.-Eastcheap. A room in the Boar's Head Tavern.


Fal. Bardolph, am I not fallen away vilely since this last action? do I not bate? do I not dwindle? Why, my skin hangs about me like an old lady's loose gown; I am wither'd like an old apple-John. Well, I'll repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some liking; I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I shall have no strength to repent. An I have not forgotten what the inside of a church is made of, I am a pepper-corn, a brewer's horse: the inside of a church! Company, villainous company, hath been the spoil of me.

Bard. Sir John, you are so fretful, you cannot live long.

Fal. Why, there is it: : come, sing me a song; make me merry. I was as virtuously given, as a gentleman need to be; virtuous enough; swore little; diced, not above seven times a week; paid money that I borrowed, three or four times; lived well, and in good compass: and now I live out of all order, out of all compass.

Bard. Why, you are so fat, sir John, that you must needs be out of all compass; out of all reasonable compass, sir John.

Fal. Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend my life: Thou art our admiral 6, thou bearest the lantern in the poop, -but 'tis in the nose of thee; thou art the knight of the burning lamp.

Bard. Why, sir John, my face does you no harm. Fal. No, I'll be sworn; I make good use of it. When thou ran'st up Gads-hill in the night to catch my horse, if I did not think thou hadst been an ignis fatuus, or a ball of wildfire, there's no purchase in money. O, thou art a perpetual triumph, an everlasting bonfire-light! Thou hast saved me a thousand marks in links and torches, walking with thee in the night betwixt tavern and tavern: but the sack that thou hast drunk me, would have bought me lights as good cheap, at the dearest chandler's in Europe. I have maintained that salamander of yours with fire, any time this two-and-thirty years ; Heaven reward me for it!

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Enter Hostess.

How now dame Partlet the hen?7 have you inquired yet, who picked my pocket?

Host. Why, sir John! what do you think, sir John? do you think I keep thieves in my house? I have searched, I have inquired, so has my husband, man by man, boy by boy, servant by servant: the tithe of a hair was never lost in my house before. Fal. You lie, hostess; Bardolph was shaved and lost many a hair: and I'll be sworn, my pocket was picked: Go to, you are a woman, go.

Host. Who I? I defy thee: I was never called so in mine own house before.

Fal. Go to, I know you well enough. Host. No, sir John; you do not know me, sir John: I know you, sir John: you owe me money, sir John, and now you pick a quarrel to beguile me of it; I bought you a dozen of shirts to your back. Fal. Dowlas, dowlas: I have given them away to bakers' wives, and they have made bolters of them.

Host. Now, as I am a true woman, holland of eight shillings an ell. You owe money here besides, | sir John, for your diet, and by-drinkings, and money lent you, four-and-twenty pound.

Fal. He had his part of it; let him pay. Host. He? alas, he is poor; he hath nothing. Fal. How! poor? look upon his face; What call you rich? let them coin his nose, let them coin his cheeks; I'll not pay a denier. What will you make a younker of me? shall I not take mine ease in mine inn, but I shall have my pocket picked? I have lost a seal-ring of my grandfather's worth forty mark.

Host. O! I have heard the prince tell him, I know not how oft, that that ring was copper.

Fal. How the prince is a Jack, a sneak-cup; and, if he were here, I would cudgel him like a dog if he would say so.

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fox; and for womanhood, maid Marian 9 may be
the deputy's wife of the ward to thee.
Go, you
thing, go.

Host. Say, what thing? what thing? I am an honest man's wife: and, setting thy knighthood aside, thou art a knave to call me so.

Fal. Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a beast to say otherwise.

Host. Say, what beast, thou knave, thou?
Fal. What beast? why an otter.

P. Hen. An otter, sir John! why an otter?
Fal. Why? she's neither fish, nor flesh.
Host. Thou art an unjust man in saying so.
P. Hen. Thou sayest true, hostess; and he
slanders thee most grossly.

Host. So he doth you, my lord; and said this
other day, you ought him a thousand pound.
P. Hen. Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound?
Fal. A thousand pound, Hal? a million: thy
love is worth a million; thou owest me thy love.
Host. Nay, my lord, he called you Jack, and
said, he would cudgel you.

Fal. Did I, Bardolph?

Bard. Indeed, sir John, you said so.
Fal. Yea; if he said, my ring was copper.
P. Hen. I say, 'tis copper: Darest thou be as
good as thy word now?

Fal. Why, Hal, thou knowest, as thou art but man, I dare: but, as thou art prince, I fear thee, as I fear the roaring of the lion's whelp.

P. Hen. And why not, as the lion?

Fal. The king himself is to be feared as the lion: Dost thou think, I'll fear thee as I fear thy father? P. Hen. O, sirrah, there's no room for faith, truth, nor honesty, in this bosom of thine. Charge an honest woman with picking thy pocket! Why, thou impudent rascal, if there were any thing in thy pocket but tavern-reckonings, and one poor penny-worth of sugar-candy to make thee long FAL-winded; if thy pocket were enriched with any other injuries but these, I am a villain. And yet you will stand to it; you will not pocket up wrong: Art thou not ashamed?

Enter PRINCE HENRY and POINS, marching.
STAFF meets the PRINCE, playing on his truncheon
like a fife.

Fal. How now, lad? is the wind in that door, must we all march?

Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate-fashion.
Host. My lord, I pray you, hear me.

P. Hen. What sayest thou, mistress Quickly? How does thy husband? I love him well, he is an honest man.

Host. Good my lord hear me.

Fal. Pr'ythee, let her alone, and list to me.
P. Hen. What say'st thou, Jack?

Fal. The other night I fell asleep here behind the arras, and had my pocket picked.

P. Hen. What did'st thou lose, Jack? Fal. Wilt thou believe me, Hal? three or four bonds of forty pound a-picce, and a scal-ring of my grandfather's.

P. Hen. A trifle, some eight-penny matter. Host. So I told him, my lord; and I said, I heard your grace say so: And my lord, he speaks most vilely of you, like a foul-mouthed man as he is; and said, he would cudgel you.

P. Hen. What! he did not.

Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal? thou knowest, in the state of innocency, Adam fell; and what should poor Jack Falstaff do, in the days of villainy? Thou seest, I have more flesh than another man; and therefore more frailty. You confess then, you picked my pocket?

P. Hen. It appears so by the story.

Fal. Hostess, I forgive thee: Go, make ready breakfast; love thy husband, look to thy servants, cherish thy guests: thou shalt find me tractable to any honest reason: thou seest, I am pacified. — Still? Nay, pr'ythee, be gone. [Exit Hostess.] Now, Hal, to the news at court: for the robbery, lad, - - How is that answered?

P. Hen. O, my sweet beef, I must still be good angel to thee: The money is paid back again. Fal. O, I do not like that paying back, 'tis a double labour.

P. Hen. I am good friends with my father, and may do any thing.

Ful. Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou

Host. There's neither faith, truth, nor woman- doest, and do it with unwashed hands too. hood in me else.

Fal. There's no more faith in thee than in a stewed prune; nor no more truth in thee, than in a drawn

7 In the story-book of Reynard the Fox.

8 A term of contempt frequently used by Shakspeare.

Bard. Do, my lord.

P. Hen. I have procured thee, Jack, a charge of


A female character, who attends morris-dancers; gene. rally a man dressed like a woman.

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SCENE I. The Rebel Camp near Shrewsbury.

Enter HOTSPUR, Worcester, and DOUGLAS. Hot. Well said, my noble Scot: If speaking truth,

In this fine age, were not thought flattery,
Such attribution should the Douglas have,
As not a soldier of this season's stamp

Should go so general current through the world.
By heaven, I cannot flatter; I defy
The tongues of soothers; but a braver place
In my heart's love, hath no man than yourself:
Nay, task me to the word; approve me, lord.
Doug. Thou art the king of honour :
No man so potent breathes upon the ground,
But I will beard him.


Do So, and 'tis well: -
Enter a Messenger, with Letters.
What letters hast thou there? - I can but thank

Mess. These letters come from your father,
Hot. Letters from him! why comes he not himself?
Mess. He cannot come, my lord; he's grievous


Hot. O how has he the leisure to be sick,
In such a justling time? Who leads his power?
Under whose government come they along?
Mess. His letters bear his mind, not I, my lord.
Wor. I pr'ythee, tell me, doth he keep his bed?
Mess. He did, my lord, four days ere I set forth;
And at the time of my departure thence,
He was much fear'd by his physicians.

Wor. I would, the state of time had first been

Ere he by sickness had been visited;
His health was never better worth than now.

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For, as he writes, there is no quailing now:
Because the king is certainly possess'd
Of all our purposes.
What say you to it?
Wor. Your father's sickness is a maim to us.
Hot. A perilous gash, a very limb lopp'd off: —
And yet, in faith, 'tis not: his present want
Seems more than we shall find it : Were it good,
To set the exact wealth of all our states
All at one cast? to set so rich a main
On the nice hazard of one doubtful hour?
It were not good: for therein should we read
The very bottom and the soul of hope;
The very list, the very utmost bound
Of all our fortunes.


Faith, and so we should;
Where now remains a sweet reversion:
We may boldly spend upon the hope of what
Is to come in:

A comfort of retirement lives in this,

Hot. A rendezvous, a home to fly unto..
Wor. But yet, I would your father had been here,
The quality and hair of our attempt
By some, that know not why he is away
Brooks no division: It will be thought
That wisdom, loyalty, and mere dislike
Of our proceedings, kept the earl from hence;
And think, how such an apprehension

May turn the tide of fearful faction,

And breed a kind of question in our cause:
Must keep aloof from strict arbitrement
For well you know, we of the offering side

And stop all sight-holes, every loop, from whence
The eye of reason may pry in upon us :
This absence of your father's draws a curtain,
That shows the ignorant a kind of fear
Before not dreamt of.

You strain too far.

Hot. Sick now! droop now! this sickness doth I, rather, of his absence make this use; —


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The very life-blood of our enterprize;
'Tis catching hither, even to our camp.
He writes me here, that inward sickness-
And that his friends by deputation could not
So soon be drawn; nor did he think it meet,
To lay so dangerous and dear a trust
On any soul remov'd, but on his own.
Yet doth he give us bold advertisement,
That with our small conjunction, we should on,
To see how fortune is dispos'd to us:

1 This expression is applied by way of pre-eminence to the head of the Douglas family.

It lends a lustre, and more great opinion,

A larger dare to our great enterprize,

Than if the earl were here: for men must think,
If we, without his help, can make a head
To push against the kingdom; with his help,
We shall o'erturn it, topsy-turvy down.
Yet all goes well, yet all our joints are whole.
Doug. As heart can think: there is not such a

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Spoke of in Scotland, as this term of fear.

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Hot. My cousin Vernon! welcome, by my soul.
Ver. Pray Heaven, my news be worth a welcome,


The earl of Westmoreland, seven thousand strong,
Is marching hitherwards; with him, prince John.
Hot. No harm: What more?
And further, I have learn'd—
The king himself in person is set forth,
Or hitherwards intended speedily,
With strong and mighty preparation.

Fal. Lay out, lay out.

Bard. This bottle makes an angel.

make twenty, take them all, I'll answer the coinage.
Fal. An if it do, take it for thy labour; and if it
Bid my lieutenant Peto meet me at the town's end.
Bard. I will, captain: farewell.

Fal. If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a souced gurnet. I have misused the king's press vilely. I have got in exchange of a hundred and fifty soldiers, three hundred and odd pounds. I press me none but good householders, yeoman's sons.

Hot. He shall be welcome, too. Where is his son, inquire me out contracted bachelors, such as had

The nimble-footed madcap prince of Wales,

And his comrádes that daff'd 5 the world aside,

And bid it pass?


All furnish'd, all in arms,

All plum'd like estridges 6 that wing the wind;
Bated like eagles having lately bath'd;
Glittering in golden coats, like images;
As full of spirit as the month of May,
And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer;
Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls.
I saw young Harry, with his beaver on,
His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly arm'd, -
Rise from the ground like feather'd Mercury,
And vaulted with such case into his seat,

As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds,
To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus,
And witch the world with noble horsemanship.

been asked twice on the bans; such a commodity of warm slaves, as had as lief hear the devil as a drum; such as fear the report of a caliver 9 worse than a struck fowl, or a hurt wild-duck. I pressed me none but such toasts and butter, with hearts no bigger than pins' heads, and they have bought out their services; and now my whole charge consists of ancients, corporals, lieutenants, gentlemen of companies, slaves as ragged as Lazarus in the painted cloth, and such as, indeed, were never soldiers, but discarded, unjust serving-men, younger sons to younger brothers, revolted tapsters, and ostlers trade-fallen; the cankers of a calm world, and a long peace; ten times more dishonourably ragged than an old faced ancient ; and such have I to fill up the rooms of them that have bought out their services. A mad fellow met me on the way,

Hot. No more, no more; worse than the sun in and told me I had unloaded all the gibbets, and


This praise doth nourish agues.

Let them come;
They come like sacrifices in their trim,
And to the fire-eyed maid of smoky war,
All hot, and bleeding, will we offer them:
The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit,
Up to the ears in blood. I am on fire,
To hear this rich reprisal is so nigh,
And yet not ours: Come, let me take my horse,

Who is to bear me like a thunderbolt,
Against the bosom of the prince of Wales:
Harry to Harry shall, hot horse to horse,
Meet, and ne'er part, till one drop down a corse. —
O, that Glendower were come!


There is more news:
I learn'd in Worcester as I rode along,
He cannot draw his power this fourteen days.
Doug. That's the worst tidings that I hear of yet.
Wor. Ay, by my faith, that bears a frosty sound.
Hot. What may the king's whole battle reach

Ver. To thirty thousand.

Forty let it be;
My father and Glendower being both away,
The powers of us may serve so great a day.
Come, let us make a muster speedily:
Doomsday is near; die all, die merrily.

Doug. Talk not of dying; I am out of fear
Of death, or death's hand, for this one half year.
SCENE II. - A public Road near Coventry.


pressed the dead bodies. No eye hath seen such I'll not march through Coventry with them, that's flat: :-- - Nay, and the villains march wide betwixt the legs, as if they had gyves? on; for, indeed, I had the most of them out of prison. There's but a shirt and a half in all my company: and the half shirt is two napkins tacked together, and thrown over the shoulders like a herald's coat without sleeves; and the shirt, to say the truth, stolen from my host at Saint Alban's, or the rednose inn-keeper of Daintry. 3 But that's all one; they'll find linen enough on every hedge.

Enter PRINCE HENRY and WESTMORELAND P. Hen. How now, blown Jack? how now, quilt? Fal. What, Hal? How now, mad wag? what a devil dost thou in Warwickshire? My good lord of Westmoreland, I cry you mercy; I thought your honour had already been at Shrewsbury.

W'est. 'Faith, sir John, 'tis more than time that I were there, and you too; but my powers are there already: The king, I can tell you, looks for us all; we must away all night.

Fal. Tut, never fear me; I am as vigilant as a cat to steal cream.

P. Hen. I think to steal cream, indeed; for thy theft hath already made thee butter. But, tell me, Jack; Whose fellows are these that come after? Fal. Mine, Hal, mine.

P. Hen. I did never see such pitiful rascals. Fal. Tut, tut; good enough to toss; food for powder, food for powder; they'll fill a pit, as well as better: tush, man, mortal men, mortal men. West. Ay, but sir John, methinks they are ex

Fal. Bardolph, get thee before to Coventry; fill ceeding poor and bare; too beggarly.

me a bottle of sack: our soldiers shall march
through; we'll to Sutton-Colfield to-night.
Bard. Will you give me money, captain?

5 Threw contemptuously.

7 Fresh.

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P. Hen. No, I'll be sworn; unless you call three fingers on the ribs bare. But, sirrah, make haste;

Percy is already in the field.

Fal. What, is the king encamped?

Such bold hostility, teaching this duteous land
Audacious cruelty: If that the king
Have any way your good deserts forgot,
Which he confesseth to be manifold,

West. He is, sir John; I fear we shall stay too He bids you name your griefs; and, with all speed,

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SCENE III. - The Rebel Camp near Shrewsbury.


Hot. We'll fight with him to-night.

It may not be.
Doug. You give him then advantage.
Not a whit.


Hor. Why say you so? looks he not for supply?
Ver. So do we.
His is certain, ours is doubtful.
Wor. Good cousin, be advis'd; stir not to-night.
Ver. Do not, my lord.

You do not counsel well; You speak it out of fear and cold heart.

Ver. Do me no slander, Douglas: by my life, (And I dare well maintain it with my life,)

If well respected honour bid me on,

I hold as little counsel with weak fear,
As you, my lord, or any Scot that lives:
Let it be seen to-morrow in the battle,
Which of us fears.

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Hot. To-night say I.



Come, come, it may not be.
I wonder much, being men of such great leading 4,
That you foresee not what impediments
Drag back our expedition: Certain horse
Of my cousin Vernon's are not yet come up:
Your uncle Worcester's horse came but to-day;
And now their pride and mettle is asleep,
Their courage with hard labour tame and dull,
That not a horse is half the half himself.

Hot. So are the horses of the enemy,
In general journey-bated and brought low;
The better part of ours is full of rest.

Wor. The number of the king exceedeth ours:
For heaven's sake, cousin, stay till all come in.
[The Trumpet sounds a parley.

Blunt. I come with gracious offers from the king, If you vouchsafe me hearing, and respect. Hot. Welcome, sir Walter Blunt; And 'would

to heaven,

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You shall have your desires, with interest;
And pardon absolute for yourself, and these,
Herein misled by your suggestion.

Hot. The king is kind; and, well we know, the king

Knows at what time to promise, when to pay.
My father, and my uncle, and myself,
Did give him that same royalty he wears:

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when he was not six and twenty strong, Sick in the world's regard, wretched and low, A poor unminded outlaw sneaking home, My father gave him welcome to the shore: And, when he heard him swear, and vow to God, He came but to be duke of Lancaster, To sue his livery 7, and beg his peace; With tears of innocency, and terms of zeal, My father, in kind heart and pity mov'd, Swore him assistance, and perform'd it too. Now, when the lords and barons of the realm Perceiv'd Northumberland did lean to him, The more and less 8 came in with cap and knee; Met him in boroughs, cities, villages; Attended him on bridges, stood in lanes, Laid gifts before him, proffer'd him their oaths, Gave him their heirs; as pages followed him, Even at the heels, in golden multitudes. He presently, as greatness knows itself, Steps me a little higher than his vow Made to my father, while his blood was poor, Upon the naked shore at Ravenspurg; And now, forsooth, takes on him to reform Some certain edicts, and some strait decrees, That lie too heavy on the commonwealth : Cries out upon abuses, seems to weep Over his country's wrongs; and, by this face, This seeming brow of justice, did he win The hearts of all that he did angle for. Proceeded further; cut me off the heads Of all the favourites, that the absent king In deputation left behind him here, When he was personal in the Irish war. Blunt. I came not to hear this. Hot.

Then, to the point. In short time after, he depos'd the king; Soon after that, depriv'd him of his life; And, in the neck of that, task'd the whole state: To make that worse, suffer'd his kinsman March (Who is, if every owner were well plac'd, There without ransome to lie forfeited: Indeed his king,) to be incag'd in Wales, Disgrac'd me in my happy victories; Sought to entrap me by intelligence; Rated my uncle from the council-board; In rage dismiss'd my father from the court; Broke oath on oath, committed wrong on wrong: And, in conclusion, drove us to seek out This head of safety; and, withal, to pry Into his title, the which we find Too indirect for long continuance.

Blunt. Shall I return this answer to the king? Hot. Not so, sir Walter; we'll withdraw awhile. Go to the king; and let there be impawn'd Some surety for a safe return again,

7 The delivery of his lands. 8 The greater and the less.

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