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sent you.

Cler. [coming forward.] How now, Dauphine ? you loose yourselves after, and skip out like & how dost thou quit thyself of these females ? brace of jugglers on a table. Here he comes: set

Daup. 'Slight, they haunt me like fairies, and your faces, and look superciliously, while I pregive me jewels here! I cannot be rid of them!

Cler. Oh, you must not tell though.
Daup. Mass, I forgot that! I was never so

Re-enter DAUPHINE with MOROSE. assaulted. One loves for virtue and bribes me Mor. Are these the two learned men ? with this (shows the jewel]; another loves me True Yes, sir; please you salute them. with caution, and so would possess me; a third

Mor. Salute them! I had rather do anything, brings me a riddle here; and all are jealous, and than wear out time so unfruitfully, sir. I wonder ! rail each at other.

how these common forms, as God sare you ! and Cler. A riddle! pray let me see it. [Reads.

You are welcome! are come to be a habit in our Sir Dauphine, I chose this way of intimation for privacy. lives; or, I am glad to see you! when I cannot The ladies here, I know, have both hope and purpose to

see what the profit can be of these words, so long make a collegiate and servant of you. If I might be so as it is no whit better with him whose affairs are honoured as to appear at any end of so noble a work, sad and grievous, that he hears this salutation. I would enter into a fame of taking physic to-morrow, True. 'Tis true, sir; we'll go to the matter then. and continue it four or five days, or longer for your visita - Gentlemen, master doctor, and master parson, tion.


I have acquainted you sufficiently with the busiBy my faith, a subtle one! Call you this a ness for which you are come hither; and you aro riddle? What's their plain-dealing, trow? not now to inform yourselves in the state of the

Daup. We lack Truewit to tell us that. question, I know. This is the gentleman who

Cler. We lack him for somewhat else too; his expects your resolution, and therefore, when you knights reformadoes' are wound up as high and please, begin. insolent as ever they were.

Ott. Please you, master doctor. Daup. You jest.

Cut. Please you, good master parson. Cler. No drunkards, either with wine or vanity, Ott. would here the canon law speak first. ever confess'd such stories of themselves. Cut. It must give place to positive divinity, sir. would not give a fly's leg in balance against all Mor. Nay, good gentlemen, do not throw me the women's reputations here, if they could be into circumstances. Let your comforts arrive but thought to speak truth ; and for the bride, quickly at me, those that are. Be swift in affordthey have made their affidavit against her di- ing me my peace, if so I shall hope any. I love rectly

not your disputations or your court tumults. And Daup. What! that they have lain with her ? that it be not strange to you, I will tell you: My Cler. Yes; and tell times and circumstances, father, in my education, was wont to advise me, with the cause why, and the place where. I had that I should always collect and contain my mind, almost brought them to affirm that they had done not suffering it to flow loosely; that I should look it to-day.

to what things were necessary to the carriage of Daup. Not both of them?

my life, and what not; embracing the one, and Cler. Yes, faith ; with a sooth or two more I eschewing the other; in short, that I shoud enbad effected it. They would have set it down dear myself to rest, and avoid turmoil; which under their hands.

now is grown to be another nature to me. So Daup. Why, they will be our sport, I see, still, that I come not to your public pleadings, or your whether we will or no.

places of noise: not that I neglect those things Enter TRUEWIT.

that make for the dignity of the common wealth;

but for the mere avoiding of clamours and imTrue. Oh, are you here? Come, Dauphine, go pertinences of orators that know not how to be call your uncle presently; I have fitted my divino

silent. And for the cause of noise, am I now & and my canonist, dyed their beards and all. The

suitor to you. You do not know in what s kraves do not know themselves, they are so exalted and altered. Preferment changes any man

misery I have been exercised this day, what a Thou shalt keep one door and I another, and

torrent of evil! my very house turns round with

the tumult! I dwell in a windmill: the perpetual ! then Clerimont in the midst, that he may have no

motion is here, and not at Eltham. means of escape from their cavilling when they True. Well, good master doctor, will you break grow hot once again. And then the women, as

the ice? Master parson will wade after. I have given the bride her instructions, to break

Cut. Sir, though unworthy, and the weaker, I in upon him in the l'envoy. Oh, 'twill be full

will presume. and twanging! Away! fetch him.

[Exit DAUP.

Ott. 'Tis no presumption, domine doctor.

Mor. Yet again! Enter OTTER disguised as a divine, and CUTBEARD Cut. Your question is, For how many canses a as a canon lawyer.

man may have divortium legitimum, a lawful Come, master doctor, and master parson, look to

divorce? First you must understand the nature your parts now, and discharge them bravely ;

of the word divorce, à divertendo 3you are well set forth, perform it as well. If you

Mor. No excursions upon words, good doctor; chance to be out, do not confess it with standing

to the question briefly. still, or humming, or gaping one at another; but

Cut. I answer then, the canon law affords digo on, and talk aloud and eagerly: use vehement

vorce but in few cases; and the principal is m action, and only remember your terms, and you

the common case, the adulterous case. But there are safe. Let the matter go where it will : you

are duodecim impedimenta, twelve impedineats as have many will do so. But at first be very

we call them, all which do not dirimere contractun, solemn and grave, like your garments, though but irritum reddere matrimonium, as we say in the

canon law, not take away the bord, but cause a 1 reformadoes-a Spanish military term, signifying

nullity therein. an officer who for some disgrace is deprived of his command, but retains his rank and perhaps his pay.–NARES. | Here was a puppet-show of great celebrity in our The term is applied here to Daw and La-Foole.

anthor's time.-GIFFORD. 2 l'encoy-conclusion,

2 'A lawful divorce.' 3 'from turning asunder,

upon him.




Mor. I understood you before. Good sir, avoid stay. She'll fly you like one that had the marks i your impertinency of translation.

Ott. He cannot open this too much, sir, by your Mor. Ladies, I must crave all your pardonsfavour.

True. Silence, ladies. Mor. Yet more!

Mor. For a wrong I have done to your whole True. Oh, you must give the learned men leave, sex, in marrying this fair and virtuous gentlesir.–To your impediments, master doctor. Cut. The first is impedimentum erroris.1

Cler. Hear him, good ladies. Ott. Of which there are several species.

Mor. Being guilty of an infirmity, which, Cut. Ay, as error personæ.?

before I conferred with these learned men, I Ott. If you contract yourself to one person, thought I might have concealedthinking her another.

True. But now being better informed in Cut. Then, error fortunæ.3

his conscience by them, he is to declare it, and Ott. If she be a beggar, and you thought her give satisfaction by asking your public forgiverich. Cut. Then, error qualitatis.4

Mor. I am no man, ladies. Ott. If she prove stubborn or headstrong, that All. How! you thought obedient.

Mor. Utterly unable in nature, by reason of Mor. How! is that, sir, a lawful impediment ? | frigidity, to perform the duties, or any the least One at once, I pray you, gentlemen.

office of a husband. Ott. Ay, ante copulam, but not post copulam," Epi. No, ladies, you shall not need; I'll take sir.

him with all his faults. Master parson says right. Nec post nup

Mor. Worst of all! liarum benedictionem. it doth indeed but irrita Cler. Why then, 'tis no divorce, doctor, if she reddere sponsalia, annul the contract; after mar consent not? riage it is of no obstancy.

Mor. Worse, worse than worst! True. Alas, sir, what a hope are we fallen from True. Nay, sir, be not utterly disheartened; by this time!

we have yet a small relic of hope left, as near as

our comfort is blown out. Clerimont, produce [After' poor MOROSE is badgered in this way for some time] Epicene rushes in, followed by your brace of knights.

Daw. Pardon us, good Master Clerimont. HAÇGHTY, CENTAURE Mavis, Mistress OTTER, Daw, and LA-FOOLE.

La-F. You will excuse us, Master Clerimont.

Cler. Nay, you must make it good now, Epi. I will not endure it any longer. Ladies, knights, there is no remedy; I'll eat no words I beseech you, help me.

This is such a wrong

for you, nor no men: you know you spoke it to as never was offered to poor bride before: upon her marriage-day to have her husb nd conspire Daw. Is this gentleman-like, sir? against her, and a couple of mercenary com True. Jack Daw, he's worse than Sir Amopanions to be brought in for form's sake, to per rous; fiercer a great deal. [Aside to Daw.]-Sir suade a separation! If you had blood or virtue Amorous, beware, there be ten Daws in this in you, gentlemen, you would not suffer such Clerimont.

[Aside to LA-FOOLE. arwigs about a husband, or scorpions to creep La-F. I'll confess it, sir. between man and wife.

Daw. Will you, Sir Amorous, will you wound Mor. On the variety and changes of my tor- reputation ? ment!

La-F. I am resolved. Hau. Let them be cudgell'd out of doors by True. So should you be too, Jack Daw: what our grooms.

should keep you off ? She's but a woman, and Cen. I'll lend you my footman.

in disgrace; he'll be glad on't. Mac. We'll have our men blanket' them in the Daw. Will he? I thought he would have been hall.

angry. Mrs. Ott. As there was one at our house, Cler. You will despatch, knights; it must be madam, for peeping in at the door.

done, i'faith. Dau. Content, i' faith.

True. Why, an it must, it shall, sir, they say: True. Stay, ladies and gentlemen. You'll hear they'll ne'er go back.-Do not tempt his patience. before you proceed?

[Aside to them. Mar. I'd have the bridegroom blanketted too. Daw. Is it true indeed, sir? Cen. Begin with him first.

La-F. Yes, I assure you, sir. Hau. Yes, by my troth.

Mor. What is true, gentlemen? what do you Mor, Oh mankind & generation !

assure me? Daup. Ladies, for my sake forbear.

Daw. That we have known your bride, sirHau. Yes, for Sir Dauphine's sake.

La-F. In good fashion. Cen. He shall command us.

Epi. I am undone! I am undone! Lo-F. He is as fine a gentleman of his inches, Mor. Oh! let me worship and adore you, madan, as any is about the town, and wears as

gentlemen! good colours when he lists.

Epi. I am undone!

[Weeps. True. Be brief, sir, and confess your infirmity. Mor. Yes, to my hand, I thank these knights. She'll be a-fire to be quit of you, if she but hear Master parson, let me thank you otherwise. that named once; you shall not entreat her to

[Gives him money.

Cen. And have they confess'd? 1 'impediment from mistake.'

Mav. Now out upon them, informers ! .. mistake of person.'.

True. You see what creatures you may bestow 3 mistake of fortune.'

your favours on, madams. #inistake of quality or character.' 5 before marriage, but not after.'

Hau. I would accept against them as beaten 6. Nor after the nuptial benediction.'

knights, wench, and not good witnesses in law. i blanket them-toss them in a blanket. * mankind - masculine, always a term of reproach 1 marks-ie of the plague, or some contagious diswhen applied to a feinale.-GIFFORD.

temper.- WHALLEY.

Mrs. Ott. Poor gentlewoman, how she takes it! Epi. Good sir, have some compassion on me.

Hau. Be comforted, Morose, I love you the Mor. Oh, my nephew knows you, belike. better for't.

Away crocodile! Cen. So do I, I protest.

Cen. He does it not sure without good ground. Cut. But, gentlemen, you have not known her Daup. Here, sir. (Gires him the parchments. since matrimonium?

Mor. Come, nephew, give me the pen; I will Daw. Not to-day, master doctor.

subscribe to anything, and seal to what thou wilt, La-F. No, sir, not to-day.

for my deliverance. Thou art my restorer. Here, Cut. Why, then I say, for any act before, the I deliver it thee as my deed. If there be a worii matrimonium is good and perfect; unless the wor in it lacking, or writ with false orthography, I shipful bridegroom did precisely, before witness, protest before [heaven] I will not take the addemand if she were virgo ante nuptias.'


[Returns the writings. Epi. No, that he did not, I assure you, master Daup. Then here is your release, sir. [takes doctor.

off EPICENE's peruke and other disguises.] --You Cut. If he cannot prove that, it is ratum con have married a boy, gentleman's son, that I jugium, notwithstanding the premises; and they have brought up this half year at my great do no way impedire. And this is my sentence, charges, and for this composition, which I have this I pronounce.

now made with you.-What say you, master Ott. I am of master doctor's resolution too, sir; doctor ? This is justum impedimentum," I hopa, if you made not that demand ante nuptias. error personæ ? ?

Mor. Oh my heart! wilt thou break? wilt thou out. Yes, sir, in primo gradu.3 break? This is worst of all worst worsts that Cut. In primo gradu. hell could have devised! Marry a whore, and so Daup. I thank you, good Doctor Cutbeard, and much noise!

Parson Otter. (pulls their fulse beards and gorens Daup. Come, I see now plain confederacy in off:]-You are beholden to them, sir, that have this doctor and this parson, to abuse a gentleman, taken this pains for you ; and my friend, Master You study his affliction. I pray begone, com Truewit, who enabled them for the business. panions.--And, gentlemen, I begin to suspect Now you may go in and rest; be as private as you for having parts with them.-Sir, will it you will

, sir. (Exit Morose.] I'll not trouble please you hear me?

you, till you trouble me with your funeral, which Mor. Oh, do not talk to me; take not from me I care not how soon it come. -Cutbeard, I'll make the pleasure of dying in silence, nephew.

your lease good. Thank me not, but with your leg, Daup. Sir, I must speak to you. I have been Cutbeard.-And, Tom Otter, your princess shall long your poor despised kinsman, and many a be reconciled to you.-How, now, gentlemen, hard thought has strengthened you against me : do you look at me? but now it shall appear if either I love you or Cler. A boy! your peace, and prefer them to all the world be Daup. Yes, Mistress Epiccene. side. I will not be long or grievous to you, sir. True. Well, Dauphine, you have lurch'd' your If I free you of this unhappy match absolutely, friends of the better half of the garland, by conand instantly, after all this trouble, and almost cealing this part of the plot: but much good do in your despair, now

it thee, thou deserv'st it, lad.-And, Clerimont, for Mor. It cannot be.

thy unexpected bringing these two to confession, Daup. Sir, that you be never troubled with a wear my part of it freely.--Nay, Sir Daw and Sir murmur of it more, what shall I hope for, or de-La-Foole, you see the gentlewoman that has done serve of you?

you the favours! we are all thankful to you, and Mor. Oh! what thou wilt, nephew; thou shalt so should the womankind here, specially for lying deserve me, and have me.

on her, though not with her,--you meant so, I Daup. Shall I have your favour perfect to me, am sure. But that we have stuck it upon you toand love hereafter?

day, in your own imagined persons, and so lately, Nor. That, and anything beside. Make thine this Amazon, the champion of the sex, should own conditions. My whole estate is thine; manage beat you now thriftily, for the common slanders it; I will become thy ward.

which ladies receive from such cuckoos as you Daup. Nay, sir, I will not be so unreasonable. are. You are they that, when no merit or fortune Epi. Will Sir Dauphine be mine enemy too? can make you hope to enjoy their bodies, will

Daup. You know I have been long a suitor yet lie with their reputations, and make their to you, uncle, that out of your estate, which is fame suffer. Away, you common moths of these, fifteen hundred a year, you would allow me but and all ladies' honours! Go, travel to make legs five hundred during life, and assure the rest upon and faces, and come home with some new matter me after; to which I have often, by myself and to be laugh'd at; you deserve to live in an air as friends, tendered you a writing to sign, which corrupted as that wherewith you feed rumour. you would never consent or incline to. If you [Exeunt Daw and LA-FOOLE.]=-Madams, you are please but to effect it now

mute upon this new metamorphosis! But here Mor. Thou shalt have it, nephew: I will do stands she that has vindicated your fames. Take it, and more.

heed of such insectæ hereafter. And let it not Daup. If I quit you not presently, and for ever, trouble


you have discovered any mys. of this cumber,+ you shall have power instantly, teries to this young gentleman: he is almost of afore all these, to revoke your act, and I will be years, and will make a good visitant within this come whose slave you will give me to for ever. twelvemonth. In the meantime, we'll all under

Mor. Where is the writing? I will seal to it, take for his secrecy, that can speak so well of his that, or to a blank, and write thine own condi- silence. (Coming forward.) --Spectators, if you tions.

like this comedy, rise cheerfully, and noro Moroze Epi. Oh me, most unfortunate, wretched gentle- is gone in, clap your hands. It may be, that noise woman!

will cure him, at least please him. (Exeunt. llau. Will Sir Dauphine do this?

I just impediment,'

error of person 1 'virgin before marriage.' ?• a proper marriage.' 3 in the first degree.' 3. hinder.'

4 cumber-incumbrance. * luchd-defeated, disappointed.

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London. 1616.


CLARENCIEUX. SIR,—There are, no doubt, a supercilious raco could have brought forth other, or better, you in the world, who will esteem all office, done you had had the same proportion, and number of in this kind, an injury; so solemn a vice it is the fruits, the first. Now I pray you to accept with them to use the authority of their ignorance, this; such wherein neither the confession of to the crying down of POETRY, or the professors: my manners shall make you blush ; nor of my but my gratitude must not leave to correct their studies, repent you to have been the instructor : error; since I am none of those that can suffer and for the profession of my thankfulness, I am the benefits conferred upon my youth to perish sure it will, with good men, find either praise or with my age. It is a frail memory that remembers but present things: and, had the favour of

Your true lover, the times so conspired with my disposition, as it

Ben Jonson.


Dramatis Personæ. KNOWELL, an old Gentleman.

MASTER MATHEW, the Town Gull. Edward KNOWELL, his Son.

THOMAS Cash, Kitely's Cashier. BRAINWORM, the Father's Man.

OLIVER COB, a Water-bearer. GEORGE Downright, a plain Squire.

JUSTICE CLEMENT, an old merry Magistrate. WELLBRED, his Half-Brother.

Roger FORMAL, his Clerk.
KITELY, a Merchant.

MASTER STEPHEN, a Country Gull.

DAME Kitely, Kitely's Wife.

MISTRESS BRIDGET, his Sister. la Paul's Man, i.e. a frequenter of the middle aisle of TiB, Cob's Wife. St. Paul's Cathedral, the common resort of cast captains, sharpers, gulls, and gossipers of every description.

Servants, fc. GIYTOR.


PROLOGU E.' Though need make many poets, and some such He rather prays you will be pleas'd to see As art and nature have not better'd much; One such to-day, as other plays should be ; Yet ours for want hath not so loved the stage, Where neither chorus wafts you o'er the seas, As he dare serve the ill customs of the age, Nor creaking throne comes down the boys to Or purchase your delight at such a rate,

please : As, for it, he himself must justly hato :

Nor nimble squib is seen to make afeard To roake a child now swaddled, to proceed The gentlewomen; nor roll'd bullet heard Man, and then shoot up, in one beard and weed, To say, it thunders; nor tempestuous drum Past threescore years; or, with three rusty swords, Rumbles, to tell you when the storm doth come; And help of some few foot and half-foot words, But deeds, and language, such as men do use, Fight over York and Lancaster's long jars, And persons, such as comedy would choose, And in the tyring-house bring wounds to scars. When she would show an image of the times,

And sport with human follies, not with crimes. 1 This prologue makes a manly appeal to the good Except we make them such, by loving still sense of the people, and touches with spirit as well as hamour on the defects and absurdities of the old stage. Our popular errors, when we know they're ill. Lyly, Kyd, and above all, the ruder dramatizers of our I mean such errors as you'll all confess, ancient chronicles, are evidently pointed at. "Squibs,' * battles,' *fights over sea and land, in choruses. By laughing at them, they deserve no less : - drums,'trumpets, ' . creaking thrones,' and all the which when you heartily do, there's hope left woful machinery of a poor stage, have been the merry burden of many a prologue and epilogue, from the first

then, dawning of a good taste under Shakespeare.—GIFFORD. | You, that have so grac'd monsters, may like men.

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go to!

A fine jest, i' faith! 'Slid, a gentleman mun show ACT I.-SCENE I.

himself like a gentleman. Uncle, I pray you be A Street.

not angry; I know what I have to do, I trow, I

am no novice. Enter KNOWELL, at the door of his house. Know. You are a prodigal, absurd coxcomb, Know. A goodly day toward, and a fresh morning.–Brainworm!

Nay, never look at me, 'tis I that speak;

Take't as you will, sir, I'll not flatter you.

Have you not yet found means enow to waste Call up your young master: bid him rise, sir.

That which your friends have left you, but you

must Tell him I have some business to employ him. Brai. I will, sir, presently,

Go cast away your money on a buzzard, Know. But hear you, sirrab,

And know not how to keep it, when you have

done ? If he be at his book, disturb him not. Brai. Very good, sir.


Oh, it is comely! this will make you a gentleman! Know. How happy yet should I esteem myself, Of all reclaim :ay, so ; now you are told on't

Well, cousin, well, I see you are e'en past hope Could I, by any practice, wean the boy From one vain course of study be affects.

You look another way. He is a scholar, if a man may trust

Step. What would you ha' me do? The liberal voice of fame in her report,

Know. What would I have you do? I'll tell Of good account in both our Universities,

you, kinsman: Either of which hath favoured him with graces :

Learn to be wise, and practise how to thrive; But their indulgence must not spring in me

That would I have you do: and not to spend A fond opinion that he cannot err.

Your coin on every bauble that you fancy, Myself was once a student, and indeed,

Or every foolish brain that humours you. Fed with the self-sa me humour he is now,

I would not have you to invade each place,

Nor thrust yourself on all societies,
Dreaming on nought but idle poetry,
That fruitless and unprofitable art,

Till men's affections, or your own desert,
Good unto none, but least to the professors ;

Should worthily invite you to your rank. Which then I thought the mistress of all know

He that is so respectless in his courses, ledge:

Oft sells his reputation at cheap market. But since, time and the truth have waked my Nor would I, you should melt away yourself judgment,

In flashing bravery,4 lest, while you affect And reason taught me better to distinguish

To make a blaze of gentry to the world, The vain from the useful learnings.

A little puff of scorn extinguish it;

And you be left like an unsavoury snuff,

Whose property is only to offend.
Cousin Stephen,

I'd have you sober, and contain yourself, What news with you, that you are here so early? Not that your sail be bigger than your boat; Step. Nothing, but s'en come to see how you

But moderate your expenses now, at first, do, uncle.

As you may keep the same proportion still: Know. That's kindly done; you are welcome, Nor stand so much on your gentility,

Which is an airy and mere borrow'd thing, Step. Ay, I know that, sir ; I would not have From dead men's dust and bones; and none of come else. How does my cousin Edward, uncle ?

yours, Knowo. Oh, well, coz; go in and see ; 'I doubt Except you make, or hold it., he be scarce stirring yet.

Enter a Servant. Step. Uncle, afore I go in, can you tell me, an he have e'er a book of the sciences of hawking

Who comes here? and hunting? I would fain borrow it.

Serv. Save you, gentlemen! Know. Why, I hope you will not a-bawking

Step. Nay, we do not stand much on our gennow, will you?

tility, friend; yet you are welcome: and I assure Step. No, wusse; but I'll practise against next you mine uncle here is a man of a thousand a year, uncle. I have bought me a hawk, and a year, Middlesex land. He has but one son in all hood, and bells, and all ; I lack nothing but a

the world; I am his next heir, at the common book to keep it by.

law, Master Stephen, as simple as I stand here, Know. Oh, most ridiculous !

if my cousin die, as there's hope he will: I have Step. Nay, look you now, you are angry, uncle.

a pretty living o' mine own too, beside, hard by Why, you know an a man have not skill in the here. hawking and hunting languages now-a-days, I'll

Serv. In good time, sir. not give a rush for him: they are more studied

Step. In good time, sir! Why, and in very good than the Greek or the Latin. He is for no gal- time, sir! You do not flout, friend, do you? lant's company without them; and by gadslid I

Serv. Not I, sir. scorn it, I, so I do, to be a consort for every hum

Step. Not you, sir! You were best not, sir; an drum: hang them, scroyles!' there's nothing in

you should, here be them can perceive it, and that them i' the world. What do you talk on it? Be- quickly too; go to: and they can give it again cause I dwell at Hogsden, I shall keep company suundly too, an need be. with none but the archers of Finsbury, or the

Sero. Why, sir, let this satisfy you; good faith, citizens that come a-ducking to Islington ponds! I had no such intent.

Step. Sir, an I thought you had, I would talk

with you, and that presently. 1 scroyles--scrofulous, scabby fellows.-GIFFORD. Per Serv. Good Master Stephen, so you may, sir, at haps from Fr. escrouelles

, scrotula. * archers of Finsbury.-In 1498, all the gardens about

your pleasure. and beyond the lordship of Finsbury were destroyed, and of them were made a plain fied to shoot in. People of fashion probably mixed but little in these parties. — I flashing bravery-extravagant gaiety of apparel.GIFFORD.



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