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If then to all men Happiness was meant,

When the loose mountain trembles from on high, God in Externals could not place content. Shall gravitation cease, if you go by?

Fortune her gifts may variously dispose, Or some old temple, nodding in its falls And these be happy call'd, unhappy ihose ; For Chartres' lead reserve the hanging wall? But Heaven's just balance equal will appear,

But still this world (so fired for the knare) While those are plac'd in hope, and these in 1car: Contents us not. A better shall we have? Not present good or ill, the joy or curse; A:kingdom of the just then let it be : But future views of better, or of worse.

But first consider how those just agree. Oh, sons of carth! attempt ye still to rise, The good must merit God's peculiar care; By mountains pil'd on mountains, to the skies? But who, but God, can tell us who they are ? Heaven still with laughter the rain toil surveys, One thinks, on Calvin Heaven's own Spirit fell; And buries madmen in the heaps they raise. Another deems him instrument of hell.

Know, all the good that individuals find, If Calvin feel Heaven's blessing, or its rod, Or God and Nature meant to mere mankind, This cries there is, and that, there is no Gud. Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense, What shocks one part will edify the rest, Lie in three words, Health, Peacu, and Compe- Nor with one systein can they ail le blest. But health subsists withtemperance alone;[terice. The very best will variously incline, And peace, oh virtue! peace is all thy own. And what rewards your virtue, punish mine. The good or bad the gifts of fortune gain ; Whatever is, is riglit. - This world, 'tis true, But these less taste them, as they worse obtain. Was inade for Cæsar - but for Titus too ; Say, in pursuit of profit or delight,

And which more blest? who chain d bis country Wlio risque the most, that take wrong means or Or he whose virtue sigh'd to lose a day? (say, right?

•• But sometiines virtue starves while vice is Of vice or virtue, whether blest or curst, [first?

« fed " Which meets contempt, or which compassion What then? Is the reward of virtue bread? Count all th' acivantage prosp'rous Vice attains. That vice may merit, 'tis the price of toil;

Tis but what Virtue flies from, and disdains, The knave deserves it when he tills the soil.
And grant the bad what happiness they wou'd, The knave deserves it when he tempts the main,
One they must want, which is, to pass for good, Where folly fights for kings, or dives for gain,
Oh blind totruth,andGod's wholescheine below, The good man may be weak, be indolent;
Who fancy bliss 10 vice, to virtue woe? Nor is his claim to plenty, but content.
Who sees and follows that great scheme the best, But grant him riches, your demand is a'er?
Best knows the blessing, and will most be blest. No— shall the good want health, the good
But fools the good alone unhappy call,

“ want pow'r?" For ills or accidents that chance to all.

Add health and pow's, and ev'ry earthly thing, See Falkland dies, the virtuous and the just ! “ Why bounded pow'r? why private : why no See godlike Turenne prostrate on the dust! Nay, why external for internal yiv'n? [king?" See Sylney bleeds amid the martial strife! Why is not man a God, and earth a heaven? Was this their virtue, or contempt of life? Who ask and reason thus, will scarce conceive Say, was it virtue, more the Heaven ne'er gave, God gives enough, whilo he has more to give; Lamented Digisy! sunk theo to the grave ? Immense the pow'r, imniense were the demand; Tell me, it virtue made the son expire, Say, at what part of nature will they stand? Why, full of days and honor, lives the sire ? What nothing carthly gives, or can destroy. Why drew Marseilles good bisbop purer breath, The soul's calm sunshine, and the heart-feli joy, WhenNature sicken'd, and each gale was death? Is virtue's prize: a better would you fix ? Or why so long in life (if long can be Then give humility a coach and six, Lent Heaven a parent to the poor and me? Justice a conqu’ror's sword, or truth a gown,

What makes all physical or moral ill? Or public spirit its great cure, a crown. There deviates nature, and here wanders will. Weak, foolish man! will heaven reward us there God sends not ill; if rightly understood, With the same trash mad inortals wish for here? Or partial ill is universal good,

The boy and man an individual makes, Or change admits, or nature lets it fall, Yet sigh'st thou now for apples and for cakes? Short, and but rare, till man improv'd it all. Go, like the Indian, in another life We just as wisely might of Heaven complain, Expect thy dog, thy boule, and thry wife ; That righteous Abel was destroy'd by Cain, As well as dream such trifles are assign'd, As that the virtuous son is still at ease

As toys and empires, for a godlike mind: When his lewd father gave the dire disease. Rewards, that either would to virtue bring Think we, like some weak prince, th' Eternal Nojoy, or be destructive of the thing: Cause

How oft by these at eixiy are undone Prone for his fav'rites to reverse his laws? The virtues of a saint at twenty-one !

Shall burning Ærna, if a sage requires, To whom can riches give repute, or trust, Forget to thunder, and recal her fires ? Content or pleasure, but the good and just ? , On air or sea new motions be imprest, Judges and senates have been bought for gold; Oh blameless Bethel! to relieve thy breast? Esteem and love were never to be sold.



Oh fool! to think God hates the worthy mind, 1 "Then what t'oblivion better were resign'd,
The lover, and the love of human kind, [clear, Is hung on high, to poison half mankind.
Whose life is healthful, and whose conscience All fome is foreign, but of true desert ;
Because he wants a thousand pounds a-year. Plavs round the lead, but comnes not to the heart:

Honor and shame from no con:Lition rise ; One self-approving liour whole years outweighs
Ac: well your part, there all the honor lies. Of stupid starers, and of loud huzzas ;
Furtune in meii las some small diff'rence made; Ind more true joy Marcellus exil'd feels,
One flaunts in rags, one futers in brocade : Than (irsar with a senate at his heels.
The cobler apren'd, and the parson gowu’dl, In parts superior what advantage lies?
The friar hooited, and the monarch ciowu'd. Tell (for you can) what is it to be wise ?
“ What differ more (you cry) than crown and 'Tis but to know how little can be known;
+ cowi?"

To sce all others' faules, and feel our own :
I 'll tell you, friend ; a wise man and a fool, Condemn’d in bnsiness or in arts to drudge,
You 'll find, it once the monarch acts the anonk, Without a second, or without a judge.
Or, cobler-like, the parson will be drunk, Truthis would you teach, or save a sinking land ?
Worth makes the mani, and want of it the fellow : All fear, none aid you, and few understand.
The rest is all but Leather or prunella. (strings, Painful pre-eminence! yourself to view

Stuck o'er with titles, and hung round with Above lite's weakness, and its comforts too.
That thou inay'st be by kings, or whoresof kings, Bring then these blessings to a strict accounts
Buast the pure blood of an illustrious race, Make fair deductions ; see to what they mount !
In quiet filow from Lucrece to Lucrece: How niuch of other each is sure to cost ;
But by your fathers' worth if yours you rate, How each for other oft is wholly lost;
Count me those only who were good and great. How inconsistent greater goods with these;
Go! if your antient, but ignoble blood Ilow sometimes life is risqu'd, and always ease :
Has crept thro' scoundrels ever since the flood, Think, and if still these things thy envy call,
Go! and pretend your family is young; Say, would'st thou be the man to whom they fall?
Nor own your fathers have been fvols so long, To sigh for ribands, if thou art so silly,
What can ennoble sols, or slaves, or cowards ? Mark how they grace Lord Umbra, or Sir Billy!
Alas! not all the blood of all the Howards. Is yellow dirt the passion of thy life?
Look next on greatness ; say where greatness Look bui on tipus, or on Gripus' wife!

If parts allure thee, think how Bacon shin'd,
Where, but among the heroes and the wise?" The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind !
Heroes are inuch the same, the point's agreed, Or rasish'd with the whistling of a name,
Froin Macedonia's inadınan to the Swede; See Cromwell, damnd to everlasting fune!
The whole strange purpose of their lives, to find If all, imited, ihy anibition call,
Or make, an enemy of all mankind ! From antient story learn to scorn them all

. Sot one looks backward, onward still he goes, There, in the rich, the Houor'd, fann'd, and Yet ne'er looks forward farther than his nose.

great, No less alike the politic and wise ;

See the tale scale of happiness complete! ili sly, slow things, with circumspective eyes. In hearts of kings, or arms of queens who lay, Men in their loose unguarded hours they like, low happy those to ruin, these betray. Not that themselves are wise, but others weak. Mark by what wretched steps their glory grows, Buyrunt that those can conquer, these can cheat; From dirt and sea-weed as proud Venice rose , Tis phrase absurd to call a villain great: In each how guilt and greatness oqual ran, Who wickedly is wise, or madly larave, And all that rais'd the hero sunk the man: 1. but the more a fool, the more a knare. Now Europe's laurels on their brows behold, Who noble ends by noble means obtains, But stand with blood, or ill exchang'd forgold; Or failing, smiles in exile or in claims, Tien see them broke with toils or sunk in ease, Like good Aurelius let him reign, or bleed Or infamous for plunder'd provinces. Like Socrates, that man is great indeed. Oh wealth ill-fated! which no act of fame

What's fame? a fancy'd life in other's breath; E'er taught to shine, or sanctified from shame! A thing beyond us, ev'n before our death. What greater bliis attends their cluse of life: Just what youhear,youhavc,andwhat's unknown Some greedy niiniort, or imperious wise: The same (my Lord) if Tully's, or your own). The tiophied arches, storied halls invade, All that we feel of it begins and ends And haunt their linnbers in the pompous shade. In the small circle of our focs or friends ; Alas! not dazzled with their noon-tide ray, To all beside as much an empty shade Compute the morn and ev'ning to the day; An Eugene living, as a Cæsar dead ;

The whole amount of that enormous fame, Alike or when, or where, they shone, or shine, A tale, that blends their glory with their shame ! Or on the Rubicon or on the Rhine.

know then this truth enough for man is A wit's a feather, and a chief a rod;

know) An honest man 's the noblest work of God. " Virtue alone is happiness below." Fame but froin death a villain's name can save, The only point where human bliss stands still, As justice tears his body from the grave; And tastes the good without the fall to ill:


Where only merit constaut pay receives, And while the Muse now stoops, or now ascends, Is blest in what it takes, and what it gives; To maa's low passions, or their glorious ends,

The joy uvequall'd, if its ends it gain ; Teach me, like thee, iu various nature wise, And if it lose, attended with no pain : To fall with dignity, with temper rise; Without satiety, tho' e'er so blesi,

Foru'd by thy converse, happily to stoer And but more relish'd as the more distrest : From grave to guy, from lively to severe ; The broadest mirth unfeeling folly wears, Correct with spirit, eloquent with ease, Less pleasing far thau virtue's very lears : Intent to reason, or polite to please. Good, froin each object, from each place acquir'd, Oh! while along the stream of time thy name For ever exercis'd, yet never tird;

Expanded flies, and gathers all its fame, Never elated while one man 's opprest;

Say, shall

ту. little bark attendant sail, Never dejected while another's blest:

Pursue the triumph, and partake the gale ? And where no wants, no wishes can remain, When statesmen, heroes, 'kings, in dust repose, Since but to wish more virtue, is to gain. Whose sous shall bluslı their fathers were thy foes,

See the sole bliss Heaven could on all bestow! Shall then this verse to future age pretend Which who but feels ean taste, but thinks can Thou wert my gnide, philosopher, and friend? kpow!

That, nirg'd by thee, I turn'd the tuneful art, Yet poor with fortune, and with learning blind, Froin sounds in things, froin faney to the heart;

The bad must miss, the good untanght will find, For wit's falsc inirror held up nature's light; Slaves to no sect, who takes no private rond; Show'd erring pride, whatever is, is right; But looks through nature, up to nature's God; That reason, passion, answer one great aim; Pursues that chain which sinks the immense That true self-love and social are the same; design,

That virtue only inakes our bliss below; Joins heaven and earth, and mortal and divine; And all our knowledge is, ourselves to know. Sees that no being any bliss can know, But touches some above, and some below ; Learns, from this union or the rising whole, $ 17. Moral Essays. In Four Epistles. Pope. The first, last purpose of the human soul; And knows where faith, law, morais, all began,

To Sir Richard Temple, L. Cobbam. All end, in love of God, and love of man.

EPISTLE I. For him alone, hope leads from goal to goal, Yes, you despise the man to books confin'd, And opens still, and opens on his soul; Who from his study rails at human kind; Till lengthen'd on to faith, and unconfind, Tho'what he learns he speaks, and may advance It pours the bliss that fills up all the mind; Some gen’ral maxims, or be right by chance. He sees why nature plants in inan alone The concomb bird, so talkatire and grave, Hope of knowo bliss, and faith in bliss unknown. That from his eage, calls Cuckold, Whore, and (Nature, whose dietates to no other kind Tho'many a passenger he rightly call, [Knave Are giv’n in vain, but what they seek they find) You hold him no Philosopher at all. Wisc is her present ; she connects in this

And yet the fate of all extremes is such, His greatest virtue with his greatest bliss ; Men may be read, as well as Books, too much. At once his own bright prospect to be blest, To observations which ourselves we make, And strongest motive to assist the rest

Wegmow more partial for th'observer's sake; Self-love thus push'd to social, to divine, To written wisdom, as another's less : (guese Givesthee to make thy neighbour's blessing thine. Maxims are drawn from notions, these fros Is this too little for the boundless heart? There's some peculiar in cach Icaf and grain, Extend it, let thy enemies have part;

Some unmark'd fibre, or some varying vein; Grasp the whole words of reason, life, and sense, Shall only man be taken in the gross ? In one close system of benevolence:

Crant but as many sorts of minds as moss. Happier as kinder, in whate'er degree,

That cach from other differs, first confess: And height of bliss but height of charity. Next, that he varies from himself no less;

God loves from whole to parts: but human soul Add nature's, custom's, reason's, passion's strife, Must risc from individual to the whole. And all opinion's colors cast on life. Self-love but serves the virtuous mind to wake, Ourdep:hs who fathoms, or our shallows find, As the small pebble stirs the peaceful lake; Quick whirls, and shifting eddies of our minds? The centre mord, a circle straight succceds, On human actions reason tho' you can, Another still, and still another spreads ; It may.

be reason, but it is not inan: Friend, parents, neighbour, first it will embrace; His principle of action once explore, His country next; and next all human race; Thai instant 'tis his principle no more. Wide and inore wide, th' o'erflowing of the saind Like following like, thro' creatures you

dissect, Take ev'ry creature in, of ev'ry kind;

You lose it in the inoment you detect.' Earth smiles around, with boundless beauty blest, Yet more; the diff'rence is as great between And heaven beholds its image on his breast. Thc optics seeing, as the objects seen.

Comethen, my friend! my genius! come along; All manners take a tincture from our own ; Oh master of the poet, and the song! Or come discolor'd thro' our passious shown.


Or fancy's beam enlarges, inultiplics,

In vain the sage, with retrospective eye, Contracts, inverts, and gives ten thousand dyes. Wouldfromth’apparent Whatconclude the Why;

Nor will life's stream for observation stay : Infer the Motive from the Deerl, and show It hurries all too fast to mark their way; That what we chanc'd was what we meant to do. In vain sedate reflections we would ninke, Behold! if Fortune, or a Mistress frowns, When half our knowledge we must snatch, not Someplunge inbusiness,others shavetheircrowns: Oit in the passions' wild rotation test, (take. To ease the soul of one oppressive weight, Oxir spring of action to ourselves is lost : This quits an Empire, that embroils a State; Tird, noi determin'd, to the last we yield; The saine adust complexion has impell'd And what comes then is master of the field, Charles to the Convent, Philip to the Field. As the last image of that troubled heap, Not always Actions show the man; we find When sense subsides, and fancy sports in sleep, Who does a kindness, is not therefore kind : (Tho' past the recollection of the thought), Perhaps Prosperity becalm d his breast, Becomes the stuff of which ourdream is wrought: Perhaps the Wind just shifted from the East. Sunething as dim to our eternal view,

Not therefore, humble he who secks retreat, Is thus, perhaps, the cause of most we do. Pride guides his steps and bids him shun the great.

True, some are open, and to all men known; Who combats bravely is not therefore brave;
Others so very close, they're hid from none: He dreads a deat:1-bed like the meanest slave:
(50 darkness strikes the sense no less than light) Who reasons wisely is not therefore wise ;
Thus gracious Chandos is belov'd at sight; His pride in Reas'ning, not in Acting, lies.
And ev'ry child hates Shylock, tho' bis soul But grant that actions best discover man;
Suill sits at squat, and peeps not from its hole. Take the most strong, and sort them as you can.
At half mankind when gen'rous Manly raves, The few that glare, each character must mark;
All know 'lis virtue, for he thinks them knaves. You balance not the many in the dark.
When universal homage Umbra pays, What will you do with such as disagree?
All say 'tis vice, and ich of vulgar praise. Suppress them or miscall them policy?
When tlatt'ry glares, all hate it in a queen, Must then at once (the character to save)
While one there is whocharins us with hisspleen. The plain rough Hero turn a crafty Knave?

But these plain characters we rarely find: Alas! in truth the inan but chang'd his mind,
Tho'strong the bent, yetquick the turns of mind: Perhaps was sick, in love, or had not din'd.
Or puzzling Contraries confound the whole; Ask why from Britain Cæsar would retreat?
Or Affectations quite reverse the soul.

Cæsar himself might whisper, he was beat.
The dull, flat false hood serves for policy : Why risk the World's great Empire for a Punk?
And in the cunning, truth itself 's a lie: Cæsar perhaps might answer, he was drunk.
l'nthonght-of frailies cheat us in the wise : But, sage historians ! 'tis your task to prove,
The fool lies hird in inconsistencies.

One action Conduct ; one, heroic Love. See the same man, in vigor, in the gout; 'Tis from high life high characters are drawn; alone, in company; in place, or out; A Saint in Crape, is twice a Saint in Lawn: Tarly at business, and at hazard late;

A Judge is just, a Chanc'llor juster still; ed at a fos-chace, wise at a debate; A Gownman, learn'd; a Bishop, what you will; Drunk at a borough, civil at a ball;

Wise, if a Minister ; but, if a King,' [thing. Trencils at Hackney, faithless at Whitehall. More wise, more learn'd, more just, more ev'ry Catjes is ever moral, ever grave,

Court-Virtues bear, like Gems, the highest rate, Thirks, who endures a bnave is next a knave, Born where Heav'n's influence scarce can pene

e just at Laer -- then prefers, no doubt, Lovgile with icuisou to saint without.

In life's low vale, the soil the Virtue's like, Who woulu not praise Patricio’s high desert, They please as beauties, here as wonders strike. l's hand 11 ottinul, his uncorrupted heart, Tho’the same sun with all diffusive rays His comprehensive head! all int' rests weigh’d, Blush in the Rose, and in the Diamond blaze, 11 Europ, say'd, yei Britain not betray'd. We prize the stronger effort of his pow'r, lle chanks you not, his pride is in piquette, And justly set the Gem above the Flow'r. Newmarkei fame, and judgenient at a bett. "Tis Education forms the coinmon mind; What made (says Montvigne, or inore sage Char- Just as the twig is bent, the tree 's inclin'd. Oino a warrior, Cromwell a buffoon? [ron!) Boastful and rough, your first son is a 'Squire; A perjur'd prince a leaden saint severe. The next a Tradesman, meek, and much a liar; A godless regent trenible at a star?

Tom struts a soldier, open, bold, and brave; The throne a bigot kecp, a genius quit, Will sneaks a Scriv'ner, an exceeding knave : Faithless thro' piety, and dup'd thro’wit? Is he a Churchman? then he 'stond of pow'r; Europe a woman, child, or dotard rule, A Quaker ? sly; a Presbyterian? sour; And just her wisest monarch made a fool? A smart Free-thinker? all things in an hour

Know, God and Nature only are the same: Ask meu's Opinions: Scoto now shall tell In man, the judgeinent shoots at flying game; How trade increases, and the world goes well; A bird of passage! gone as soon as found; Strike off his Pension, by the setting stin, Now in the moon perhaps, now under ground, And Britain, if not Europe, is undone.




That gay Free-thinker, a fine talker once, Tiine, that on all things lays his lenient hand,
What turns him now a stupid silent dunce? Yet tames not this ; ii sticks to our last sand.
Some God, or Spirit, he has lately found : Consistent in our follies and our sius,
Or chanc'd to meet a minister that frown'd. Here honest Nature ends as she begins.

Judge we by Nature ? Habit can etlice, Old Politicians chew on wisdom past,
Int'rest o'ercome, or Policy take place : And totter on in business to the last;
By Actions ? those Uncertainty divides ; As weali, as earnest; and as gravely unit,
By Passions ? those Dissimulation hides : As sober Lanesb'row dancing in the gouit.
Opinions? they still take a wider range : Behold a rev'rend sire, who want of grace
Find, if you can, in what you cannoi change. Has made the father of a naineless race,
Manners with Fortunes, Humors turn with Shov'd froin the wall perhaps, or rudely prese

By his own son, that passes by umblest : Tenets with Books, and Principles with Times. Súll to his wench he rawls on knocking I nees,

Search then the Ruling Passion:There, alone, And envies ev'ry sparrow that he sees. The Wild are constant,and the Canning known; A salmon's belly, Helluo, was thy fate; The Fool consistent, and the False sincere; The doctor callid, declares all help too late : Priests, Princes, Women, no dissemblers here. Mercy !" cries Helluo, “ mercy on my soul ! This clew once found, unravels all the rest, “ Is there no hope? - Alas! then bring the jowl." The prospect clears, and Wharton stands coufest. The frugal crone, whom praying priests attend, Whartoni, the scorn and wonder of our days, Still strives to save the hallow'd taper's end, Whose ruling Passion was the Lust of Praise : Collects her breath as ebbing life retires, Born with whate'er could win it from the wise, For one puff more, and in that puff expires. Women and Fools must like him or he dies; Odious! in woollen!'t would a saint provoke, Tho' wond'ring Senates hung on all he spoke, (Were the last words that poor Narcissa spoke) The Club must hail bim Master of the Joke. “ No, let a charming chiniz and Brussels lace Shall parts so various aim at nothing new? “ Wrap my cold limbs, and shade my lifelessface: He 'll shine a Tully and a Wilmot 100: “One would not, sime, be frightful when one's T'hen turns repentant, and his God adores

lead With the same spirit that he drinks and u hores; * And— Betty-give this cheek a little red." Enongh if all around him but admire,

The courtier sinooth, who forty years

had And now the Punk appland, and now the Friar. An humble servant to all human kind, (shin'd Thus with each gift of nature and of art, Just brought out this, when scarce his tongue And wanting nothing but an honest heart;

could stir, Grown all to all, from no one vice excmpt; If-wherel 'm going--Icould serve you, Sir?" And most contemprible to shun contempt : I give and I devise" (old Fuclio said, Ilis passion still to covet gen'ral praise, And sigh’d) “ my lands and tenements to Wed." His life, to forfeit it a thbusand ways ; Your money, Sir:-“My movey, Sir, what all? A constant bounty which no friend has made: Why-ill must-(then wept) I give it Paul," An Angel Tongue, which no inan can persuade; The manor, Sir? -" the manor! hold,” he cried, A Fool, with more of Wit than hall mankind: "Not that, I cannot part with that"-anddied Too rash for Thought, for Action too refin'd: And you, braveCobham, 1o your latest breath ATyrant to the wise his heart approves ; Shall feel your ruling passion strong in death: A Rebel to the very king he loves ;

Such in those moments, as in all the past, He dies, sad outcast of each church and state, • Oh save iny country, Heaven!" shall besowe And, harder still ! Aagitious, yet not great.

Ask you why Wharton broke thro' ev'ry rule ?
'Twas all for fear the Knaves sliould call him


To a Lady
Nature well known, no prodigies remain,
Comets are regular, and Wharton plain.

Of the Characters of Blomen
Yet, in this search, the wisest may inistake, Nothing so true as what you once lee fall,
If second qualities for first they take.

Most women have no characters at all " When Cataline by rapine swell'd his store ; Matter too soft a lasting mark to bear, When Cæsar made a noble dame a whore; And best distinguish d by black, brown, or fair In this the Lust, in that the Avarice

How many pictures of one nymph we viet, Were means, not ends ; Ambition was the vice. All how unlike cach other, all how true ! That very Cæsar, born in Scipio's days, Arcadia's countess, here, in ermin'd pride, Had aim'd, like him, by Chastity, at praise. Is there Pastora by a fountain side. Lucullus, when frugality could charni, Flere Fannia, leering on her owa good man; Had roasted turnips in the Sabinı farm

And there a naked Leda with a swan. In vain th' observer eyes the builler's toil; Let then the fair one beautifully cry, But quite mistakes the scaffold for the pile. In Magelalene's loose hair and lifted eve,

In this one passion man can strength enjoy, Or drest in smiles of sweet Cecilia shiné, As lits give vigor just when they destroy, With simp'ring angels, palms, and harus divine;


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