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His falchion on a flint he softly smiteth, (177)

That from the cold stone sparks of fire do fly; (178)

Whereat a waxen torch forthwith he lighteth, (179)

Which must be lode-star to his lustful eye; (180)

And to the flame thus speaks advisedly,
'As from this cold flint I enforced this fire, (182)

So Lucrece must I force to my desire.'

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