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DIVES his Petition.

Ah Father Abraham, Pity me
Who with tormenting Flames am Stung.
For Pity whether should I Flee
But to the Bowels whence I Sprung?
The Grapes Rich blood I do not Crave,
Waters Cheap Element will Suffice.
And tho' my Tongue thirsts for a wave,
For one poor drop it only cries.
By Lazarus moistned Finger may you please.
To give my Scorched Tongue one moments ease!

12

I dwell in Flames and Flames in Me do dwell.
O for a drop from Heaven to Sweeten Hell.
Mark how the wheel is turn'd. The time is come.
He begs a drop who once deny'd a Crumb.
Right-thinking Judges then must needs approve
The tart and equal Answer from above.