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An act born of necessity,
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and raised with heavy heart.
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I much liked King Spartacus and his companions...
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Well, most of them.
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Yet I was given a choice
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between a wealthy life, or die a merciless death.
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Which to a man of my sort, is no choice at all.
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I know what thoughts pass through mind.
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That we are but shit-eating Cilicians,
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no match for a god of the arena.
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Perhaps this is true, my friend.
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Perhaps my sword will find your woman's throat, before I fall.