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And heap'd snow burdned him so sore,

Her modest eyes, abashed to behold That now upright he can stand no more;

So many gazers as on her do stare, And being down is trod in the dirt

Upon the lowly ground affixed are; Of cattle, and brouzed, and sorely hurt.

Ne dare lift up her countenance too bold, Such was th' end of this ambitious Briere,

But blush to hear her praises sung so loud, For scorning eld.

So far from being proud.

Nathless do ye still loud her praises sing, [From the Epithalamion.]

That all the woods may answer, and your echo ring. Wake now, my love, awake; for it is time;

| Tell me, ye merchants' daughters, did ye see The rosy morn long since left Tithon's bed,

So fair a creature in your town before? All ready to her silver coach to climb;

So sweet, so lovely, and so mild as she, And Phoebus 'gins to show his glorious head.

Adorned with beauty's grace, and virtue's store ; Hark! now the cheerful birds do chant their lays,

Her goodly eyes like sapphires shining bright, And carol of Love's praise.

Her forehead ivory white, The merry lark her matins sings aloft;

Her cheeks like apples which the sun hath rudded, The thrush replies; the mavis descant plays; Her lips like cherries charming men to bite, The ouzel shrills; the ruddock warbles soft ;

Her breast like to a bowl of cream uncrudded. So goodly all agree, with sweet consent,

Why stand ye still, ye virgins in amaze, To this day's merriment.

Upon her so to gaze, Ah! my dear lore, why do you sleep thus long, Whiles ye forget your former lay to sing, When meeter were that you should now awake, To which the woods did answer, and your echo ring? T' await the coming of your joyous make, And hearken to the birds' love-learned song,

But if ye saw that which no eyes can see, The dewy leaves among!

The inward beauty of her lively sp’rit, For they of joy and pleasance to you sing,

Garnished with heavenly gifts of high degree, That all the woods them answer and their echo ring.

Much more then would ye wonder at that sight,

And stand astonished like to those which read My love is now awake out of her dream,

Medusa's mazeful head.
And her fair eyes, like stars that dimmed were | There dwells sweet Love, and constant Chastity,
With darksome cloud, now show their goodly beams Unspotted Faith, and comely Womanhood,
More bright than Hesperus his head doth rear, Regard of Honour, and mild Modesty;
Come now, ye damsels, daughters of delight, | There Virtue reigns as queen in royal throne,
Help quickly her to dight:

And giveth laws alone,
But first come, ye fair Hours, which were begot, The which the base affections do obey,
In Jove's sweet paradise, of Day and Night;

And yield their services unto her will;
Which do the seasons of the year allot,

Ne thought of things uncomely ever may And all, that ever in this world is fair,

Thereto approach to tempt her mind to ill.
Do make and still repair ;

Had ye once seen these her celestial treasures,
And ye three handmaids of the Cyprian Queen, And unrevealed pleasures,
The which do still adorn her beauties' pride,

Then would ye wonder and her praises sing,
Help to adorn my beautifullest bride :

That all the woods would answer, and your echo ring. And, as ye her array, still throw between Some graces to be seen ;

Open the temple gates unto my love, And, as ye use to Venus, to her sing,

Open them wide that she may enter in, The whiles the woods shall answer, and your echo ring.

and your echo ring. And all the posts adorn as doth behove,

And all the pillars deck with garlands trim, Now is my love all ready forth to come :

For to receive this saint with honour due, | Let all the virgins therefore well await;

That cometh in to you.
And ye, fresh boys, that tend upon her groom, With trembling steps, and humble reverence,
Prepare yourselves, for he is coming straight. She cometh in, before the Almighty's view:
Set all your things in seemly good array,

Of her, ye virgins, learn obedience, | Fit for so joyful day :

When so ye come into those holy places, The joyfull’st day that ever sun did see.

To humble your proud faces : Fair Sun! show forth thy favourable ray,

Bring her up to the high altar, that she may And let thy lifeful heat not fervent be,

The sacred ceremonies there partake, For fear of burning her sunshiny face,

The which do endless matrimony make; Her beauty to disgrace.

And let the roaring organs loudly play O fairest Phoebus ? father of the Muse!

The praises of the Lord in lively notes;
If ever I did honour thee aright,

The whiles, with hollow throats,
Or sing the thing that might thy mind delight, The choristers the joyous anthem sing,
Do not thy servant's simple boon refuse,

That all the woods may answer, and their echo ring.
But let this day, let this one day be mine ;
Let all the rest be thine.

Behold, while she before the altar stands, Then I thy sovereign praises loud will sing,

Hearing the holy priest that to her speaks, That all the woods shall answer, and their echo ring.

And blesseth her with his two happy hands,

How the red roses flush up in her cheeks, Lo! where she comes along with portly pace,

And the pure snow, with goodly vermeil stain, Like Phæbe, from her chamber of the east,

Like crimson dyed in grain ; Arising forth to run her mighty race,

That even the angels, which continually Clad all in white, that seems a virgin best.

About the sacred altar do remain, So well it her beseems, that ye would ween

Forget their service and about her fly, Some angel she had been.

Oft peeping in her face, that seems more fair,
Her long loose yellow locks, like golden wire,

The more they on it stare.
Sprinkled with pearl, and pearling flowers atween, But her sad eyes, still fastened on the ground,
Do like a golden mantle her attire ;

Are governed with goodly modesty,
And being crowned with a garland green,

That suffers not a look to glance awry, Seem like some maiden queen.

| Which may let in a little thought unsound.


Why blush you, love, to give to me your hand,

I often look upon a face The pledge of all our band ?

Most ugly, grisly, bare, and thin ; Sing, ye sweet angels, alleluya sing,

I often view the hollow place That all the woods may answer, and your echo ring. Where eyes and nose had sometime been ;

I see the bones across that lie,

Yet little think that I must die. A distinguished place among the secondary poeti

I read the label underneath, cal lights of the reign of Elizabeth is due to ROBERT

That telleth me whereto I must; SOUTHWELL, who is also remarkable as a victim of

I see the sentence too, that saith, the religious contentions of the period. He was born

“Remember, man, thou art but dust.' in 1560, at St Faiths, Norfolk, of Roman Catholic

But yet, alas ! how seldom I parents, who sent him, when very young, to be

Do think, indeed, that I must die ! educated at the English college at Douay, in Flan Continually at my bed's head ders, and from thence to Rome, where, at sixteen A hearse doth hang, which doth me tell years of age, he entered the society of the Jesuits. That I ere morning may be dead, In 1584, he returned to his native country, as a mis Though now I feel myself full well; sionary, notwithstanding a law which threatened all But yet, alas ! for all this, I members of his profession found in England with Have little mind that I inust die ! death. For eight years he appears to have ministered secretly but zealously to the scattered adhe

The gown which I am used to wear, rents of his creed, without, as far as is known, doing

The knife wherewith I cut my meat ; anything to disturb the peace of society, when, in

And eke that old and ancient chair, 1592, he was apprehended in a gentleman's house at

Which is my only usual seat ; Uxenden in Middlesex, and committed to a dungeon

All these do tell me I must die, in the Tower, so noisome and filthy, that, when he

And yet my life amend not I. was brought out for examination, his clothes were My ancestors are turn’d to clay, covered with vermin. Upon this his father, a man And many of my mates are gone ; of good family, presented a petition to Queen Eliza My youngers daily drop away, beth, begging, that if his son had committed any And can I think to 'scape alone! thing for which, by the laws, he had deserved No, no ; I know that I must die, death, he might suffer death ; if not, as he was a And yet my life amend not I. gentleman, he hoped her majesty would be pleased to order him to be treated as a gentleman. South

If none can 'scape Death's dreadful dart; well was, after this, somewhat better lodged, but If rich and poor his beck obey ; an imprisonment of three years, with ten inftic If strong, if wise, if all do smart, tions of the rack, wore out his patience, and he Then I to 'scape shall have no way : intreated to be brought to trial. Cecil is said to Then grant me grace, O God! that i have made the brutal remark, that if he was in My life may mend, since I must die. so much haste to be hanged, he should quickly have his desire.' Being at this trial found guilty, upon his own confession, of being a Romish priest,

Times go by Turns. he was condemned to death, and executed at Tyburn accordingly, with all the horrible circum

The lopped tree in time may grow again, stances dictated by the old treason laws of Eng

| Most naked plants renew both fruit and flower; land. Throughout all these scenes, he behaved

| The sorriest wight may find release of pain, with a mild fortitude which nothing but a highly Time goes by turns, and chances change by course,

| The driest soil suck in some moistening shower: regulated mind and satisfied conscience could have

| From foul to fair, from better hap to worse. prompted.

The life of Southwell, though short, was full of The sea of Fortune doth not ever flow; grief. The prevailing tone of his poetry is therefore She draws her favours to the lowest ebb: that of a religious resignation to severe evils. His Her tides have equal times to come and go; two longest poems, St Peter's Complaint, and Mary Her loom doth weave the fine and coarsest web: Magdalene's Funeral Tears, were, like many other No joy so great but runneth to an end, works of which the world has been proud, written No hap so hard but may in fine amend. in prison. It is remarkable that, though composed while suffering under persecution, no trace of angry

Not always fall of leaf, nor ever spring,

Not endless night, yet not eternal day : feeling against any human being or any human institution, occurs in these poems. After experiencing

The saddest birds a season find to sing, great popularity in their own time, insomuch that

The roughest storm a calm may soon allay. eleven editions were printed between 1593 and 1600,

Thus, with succeeding turns, God tempereth all, the poems of Southwell fell, like most of the other

That man may hope to rise, yet fear to fall. productions of that age, into a long-enduring neglect. A chance may win that by mischance was lost; Their merits having been again acknowledged in That net that holds no great, takes little fish; our own day, a complete reprint of them appeared in some things all, in all things none are cross'd; in 1818, under the editorial care of Mr W. Joseph Few all they need, but none have all they wish. Walter.

Unmingled joys here to no man befall;

Who least, hath some ; who most, hath never all,
The Image of Death.
Before my face the picture hangs,

Loves Servile Lot.
That daily should put me in mind
Of those cold names and bitter pangs

She shroudeth vice in virtue's veil,
That shortly I am like to find ;

Pretending good in ill ;
But yet, alas! full little I

She offereth joy, but bringeth grief; Do think hercon, that I must die.

A kiss—where she doth kill.

A honey shower rains from her lips,

shire, and scems to have been educated under the Sweet lights shine in her face ;

patronage of the Pembroke family. In 1579, he was She hath the blush of virgin mind,

entered a commoner of Magdalen Hall, Oxford, The mind of viper's race.

where he chiefly devoted himself to the study of She makes thee seek, yet fear to find;

poetry and history; at the end of three years, he To find, but nought enjoy ;

quitted the university, without taking a degree, and

was appointed tutor to Anne Clifford, daughter of the In many frowns, some passing smiles

Earl of Cumberland. After the death of Spenser, She yields to more annoy.

Daniel became what Mr Campbell calls' voluntary She letteth fall come luring baits,

laureate' to the court, but he was scon superseded For fools to gather up;

by Ben Jonson. In the reign of James (1603), he Now sweet, now sour, for every taste

was appointed Master of the Queen's Revel's, and She tempereth her cup.

inspector of the plays to be represented by the

juvenile performers. He was also preferred to be a Her watery eyes have burning force,

Gentleman-Extraordinary and Groom of the Chamller floods and flames conspire ;

ber to Queen Anne. Towards the close of his life, Tears kindle sparks-sobs fuel are,

le retired to a farm at Beckington, in Somersetshire, And sighs but fan the fire.

where he died in October 1619. May nerer was the month of love,

The works of Daniel fill two considerable volumes; For May is full of flowers;

but most of them are extremely dull. Of this nature But rather April, wet by kind,

is, in particular, his History of the Civil War (beFor love is full of showers.

tween the houses of York and Lancaster), which

occupied him for several years, but is not in the With soothing words enthralled souls

least superior to the most sober of prose narratives. She chains in servile bands;

His Complaint of Rosumond is, in like manner, rather Her eye, in silence, hath a speech

a piece of versified history than a poem. His two Which eye best understands.

tragedies, Cleopatra and Philotas, and two pastoral Her little sweet hath many sours;

tragi-comedies, Hymen's Triumph and The Queen's

Arcadia, are not less deficient in poetical effect. In Short hap immortal harms;

all of these productions, the historical taste of the Her loving looks are murdering darts,

author secms to have altogether suppressed the poetller songs, bewitching charms.

ical. It is only by virtue of his minor pieces and Like winter rose and summer ice,

sonnets, that Daniel continues to maintain his place Her joys are still untimely ;

amongst the English poets. His Epistle to the Coun. Before her hope, behind reinorse,

tess of Cumberland is a fine effusion of meditative Fair first-in fine unkindly.

Plough not the seas, sow not the sands,
Leave off your idle pain;

[From the Epistle to the Countess of Cumberland.]
Seek other mistress for your minds—
Lore's service is in vain.

He that of such a height hath built his mind,
And reared the dwelling of his thoughts so strong,

As neither hope nor fear can shake the frame
Scorn not thc Lecst.

Of his resolved powers; nor all the wind
Where words are weak, and foes encountring strong,

Of vanity or malice pierce to wrong Where mightier do assault than do defend,

His settled peace, or to disturb the same: The feebler part puts up enforced wrong,

What a fair seat hath he, from whence he may And silent sees, that speech could not amend :

The boundless wastes and wilds of man surrey ! Yet higher powers must think, though they repine,

And with how free an eye doth he look down When sun is set the little stars will shine.

Upon these lower regions of turmoil, While pike doth range, the silly tench doth fly,

Where all the storms of passions mainly beat And crouch in privy creeks with smaller fish;

On flesh and blood ! where honour, power, renown, Yet pikes are caught when little fish go by,

Are only gay afflictions, golden toil; These fleet afloat, while those do fill the dish;

Where greatness stands upon as feeble feet There is a time even for the worms to creep,

As frailty doth; and only great doth seem And suck the dew while all their foes do sleep.

To little minds who do it so esteem. The merlin cannot ever soar on high,

He looks upon the mightiest monarch's wars, Nor greedy greyhound still pursue the chase ;

But only as on stately robberies ; The tender lark will find a time to fly,

Where cvermore the fortune that prevails And fearful hare to run a quiet race.

Must be the right : the ill-succeeding mars He that high growth on cedars did bestow,

The fairest and the best-fac'd enterprise. Gare also lowly mushrooms leave to grow.

Great pirate Pompey lesser pirates quails :

| Justice he sees, as if reduced, still In Haman's pomp poor Mardocheus wept,

Conspires with power, whose cause must not be ill. Yet God did turn his fate upon his foe. The Lazar pin'd, while Dives' feast was kept, He sees the face of right t' appear as manifold Yet he to heaven-to hell did Dives go.

As are the passions of uncertain man; We trample grass, and prize the flowers of May ;

| Who puts it in all colours, all attires, " Yet grass is green, when flowers do fade away.

To serve his ends, and makes his courses hold.
He sees that. let deceit work what it can.

Plot and contrive base ways to high desires ;

That the all-guiding Providence doth yet
SANUEL DANIEL was the son of a music-master. | All disappoint and mocks this smoke of wit.
Ile was born in 1562, near Taunton, in Somerset- |

[Selections from Daniel's Sonnets.] I must not grieve, my love, whose eyes would read Lines of delight, whereon her youth might smile; Flowers have time before they come to seed, And she is young, and now must sport the while. And sport, sweet maid, in season of these years, And learn to gather flowers before they wither; And where the sweetest blossom first appears, Let love and youth conduct thy pleasures thither, Lighten forth smiles to clear the clouded air, And calm the tempest which my sighs do raise : Pity and smiles do best become the fair ; Pity and smiles must only yield thee praise Make me to say, when all my griefs are gone, Happy the heart that sigh'd for such a one.

[Richard II., the Morning before his Murder in

Pomfret Castle.] Whether the soul receives intelligence, By her near genius, of the body's end, And so imparts a sadness to the sense, Foregoing ruin whereto it doth tend ; Or whether nature else hath conference With profound sleep, and so doth warning send, By prophetising dreams, what hurt is near, And gives the heavy careful heart to fear : However, so it is, the now sad king, Toas'd here and there his quiet to confound, Feels a strange weight of sorrows gathering Upon his trembling heart, and sees no ground; Feels sudden terror bring cold shivering ; Lists not to eat, still muses, sleeps unsound; His senses droop, his steady eyes unquick, And much he ails, and yet he is not sick. The morning of that day which was his last, After a weary rest, rising to pain, Out at a little grate his eyes he cast Upon those bordering hills and open plain, Where other's liberty make him complain The more his own, and grieves his soul the more, Conferring captive crowns with freedom poor. O happy man, saith he, that lo I see, Grazing his cattle in those pleasant fields, If he but knew his good. How blessed he That feels not what affliction greatness yields ! Other than what he is he would not be, Nor change his state with him that sceptre wields. Thine, thine is that true life : that is to live, To rest secure, and not rise up to grieve.

Fair is my love, and cruel as she's fair ;
Her brow shades frown, altho’ her eyes are sunny;
Her smiles are lightning, though her pride despair ;
And her disdains are gall, her favours honey.
A modest maid, deck'd with a blush of honour,
Whose feet do tread green paths of youth and lore;
The wonder of all eyes that look upon her :
Sacred on earth ; design'd a saint above;
Chastity and Beauty, which are deadly foes,
Live reconciled friends within her brow;
And had she Pity to conjoin with those,
Then who had heard the plaints I utter now?
For had she not been fair, and thus unkind,
My muse had slept, and none had known my mind.

Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Night,
Brother to Death, in silent darkness born,
Relieve my anguish, and restore the light,
With dark forgetting of my care, return.
And let the day be time enough to mourn
The shipwreck of my ill-advised youth;
Let waking eyes suffice to wail their scorn,
Without the torinents of the night's untruth.
| Cease, dreams, the images of day-desires,

To model forth the passions of to-morrow;
Never let the rising sun prove you liars,
To add more grief, to aggravate my sorrow,
Still let me sleep, embracing clouds in vain,
And never wake to feel the day's disdain.

Thou sitt'st at home safe by thy quiet fire,
And hear'st of other's harms, but fearest none :
And there thou tell’st of kings, and who aspire,
Who fall, who rise, who triumph, who do moan,
Perhaps thou talk'st of me, and dost enquire
Of my restraint, why here I live alone,
And pitiest this my miserable fall;
For pity must have part-envy not all.
Thrice happy you that look as from the shore,
And have no venture in the wreck you see ;
No interest, no occasion to deplore
Other men's travels, while yourselves sit free.
How much doth your sweet rest make us the more
To see our misery and what we be :
Whose blinded greatness, ever in turmoil,
Still seeking happy life, makes life a toil.


[Early Love.] Ah, I remember well (and how can I But evermore remember well) when first Our flame began, when scarce we knew what was The flame we felt ; when as we sat and sigh'd And look'd upon each other, and conceiv'd Not what we ail'd, yet something we did ail, And yet were well, and yet we were not well, And what was our disease we could not tell. Then would we kiss, then sigh, then look : and thus In that first garden of our simpleness We spent our childhood. But when years began To reap the fruit of knowledge ; ah, how then Would she with sterner looks, with graver brow, Check my presumption and my forwardness! Yet still would give me flowers, still would show What she would have me, yet not have me know.

MICHAEL DRAYTON, born, it is supposed, at Atherston, in Warwickshire, about the year 1563, and the son of a butcher, discovered in his earliest years such proofs of a superior mind, that, at the age of ten, he was made page to a person of quality situation which was not in that age thought too humble for the sons of gentlemen. He is said, upon dubious authority, to have been for some time i student at Oxford. It is certain that, in early life, he was highly esteemed and strongly patronised by several persons of consequence ; particularly by Sir Henry Goodere, Sir Walter Aston, and the Countess of Bedford : to the first he was indebted for great part of his education, and for recommending him to the countess; the second supported him for several years. In 1593, Drayton published a collection of his pastorals, and soon after gave to the world his more elaborate poems of The Baron's Wars and England's Heroical Epistles. In these latter pruductions, as in the History of the Civil War by Daniel, we see symptoms of that taste for poetised history (as it may be called) which marked the age —which is first seen in Sackville's design of the Mirrour for Magistrates, and was now developing

itself strongly in the historical plays of Shakspeare, | Marlow, and others. On the accession of James 1.

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in 1603, Drayton acted as an esquire to his patron, Sir Walter Aston, in the ceremony of his installa

[Morning in Warwickshire-Description of a tion as a Knight of the Bath. The poet expected

Stag-Hunt.] some patronage from the new sovereign, but was When Phoebus lifts his head out of the winter's disappointed. He published the first part of his

wave, most elaborate work, the Polyolbion, in 1612, and the

No sooner doth the carth her flowery bosom brave, second in 1622, the whole forming a poetical de

At such time as the year brings on the pleasant scription of England, in thirty songs, or books.

But hunts-up to the morn the feath'red sylvans sing :
And in the lower grove, as on the rising knole,
Upon the highest spray of every mounting pole,
Those quiristers are perch't, with many a speckled

| Then from her burnisht gate the goodly glittring

east Gilds every lofty top, which late the humorous night Bespangled had with pearl, to please the morning's

On which the mirthful quires, with their clear open

Unto the joyful morn so strain their warbling notes,
That hills and vallies ring, and even the echoing air
Seems all composed of sounds, about them everywhere.
The throstle, with shrill sharps ; as purposely he song
T' awake the listless sun ; or chiding, that so long
He was in coming forth, that should the thickets

The ouzel near at hand, that hath a golden bill,
As nature him had markt of purpose, t' let us see
That from all other birds his tunes should different be :
For, with their vocal sounds, they sing to pleasant

Upon his dulcet pipe the merlel doth only play.
When in the lower brake, the nightingale hard by,
In such lamenting strains the joyful hours doth ply,
As though the other birds she to her tunes would

Michael Drayton.

And, but that nature (by her all-constraining law) The Polyolbion is a work entirely unlike any

Each bird to her own kind this season doth invite, other in English poetry, both in its subject and the

| They else, alone to hear that charmer of the night, manner in which it is written. It is full of topo

(The more to use their ears, their voices sure would graphical and antiquarian details, with innumerable

spare, allusions to remarkable events and persons, as con

That moduleth her tunes so admirably rare, nected with various localities; yet such

As man to set in parts at first had learn'd of her. is the

To Philomel the next, the linnet we prefer ; poetical genius of the author, so happily does he

And by that warbling bird, the wood-lark place we idealise almost everything he touches on, and so

then, lively is the flow of his verse, that we do not readily

The red-sparrow, the nope, the red-breast, and the wren. tire in perusing this vast mass of information. He

The yellow-pate ; which though she hurt the blooming seems to have followed the manner of Spenser in his

tree, unceasing personifications of natural objects, such as

Yet scarce hath any bird a finer pipe than she. hills, rivers, and woods. The information contained

And of these chaunting fowls, the goldfinch not bein this work is in general so accurate, that it is

hind, quoted as an authority by Hearne and Wood.

That hath so many sorts descending from her kind. In 1627, Drayton published a volume containing

| The tydy for her notes as delicate as they, The Battle of Agincourt, The Court of Faerie, and

The laughing hecco, then the counterfeiting jay. other poems. Three years later appeared another

The softer with the shrill (some hid among the leaves, volume, entitled The Muses' Elysium, from which it

Some in the taller trees, some in the lower greaves) appears that he had found a final shelter in the

Thus sing away the morn, until the mounting sun, family of the Earl of Dorset. On his death in 1631,

| Through thick'exhaled fogs his golden head hath run, he was buried in Westminster Abbey, where a Andron

And through the twisted tops of our close covert monument, containing an inscription in letters of

creeps gold, was raised to his memory by the wife of that To kiss the gentle shade, this while that sweetly nobleman, the justly celebrated Lady Anne Clifford,

sleeps. subsequently Countess of Pembroke and Mont

And near to these our thicks, the wild and frightful gomery.

herds, Drayton, throughout the whole of his writings, Not hearing other noise but this of chattering birds, voluminous as they are, shows the fancy and feeling Feed fairly on the lawns ; both sorts of seasoned deer : of the true poet. According to Mr Headley— He Here walk the stately red, the freckled fallow there : possessed a very considerable fertility of mind, which The bucks and lusty stags amongst the rascals strew'd, enabled him to distinguish himself in almost every As sometime gallant spirits amongst the multitude. species of poetry, from a trifling sonnet to a long Of all the beasts which we for our venerial2 name, topographical poem. If he anywhere sinks below The hart among the rest, the hunter's noblest game : himself, it is in his attempts at satire. In a most pedantic era, he was unaffected, and seldom exhibits 1 Of all birds, only the blackbird whistleth. his learning at the expense of his judgment.'

2 Of hunting, or chase.

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