 | A collection of plays and poems |  |
196
ANOTHER LETTER
From the Same to the Same.
I wrote, my son, to let you know
The seat prepared for you below.
I write again, my child, to tell
The news that's passing now in hell.
A fellow's here, who sets about
A piece of news that makes a rout:
He says, that when he came away,
My dearest boy was heard to say
He would repent.—Of what, my son?
Of all the good you've ever done?
For, sure I am, you'll ne'er relent,
Nor of one wicked deed repent.
The seat prepared for you below.
I write again, my child, to tell
The news that's passing now in hell.
A fellow's here, who sets about
A piece of news that makes a rout:
He says, that when he came away,
My dearest boy was heard to say
He would repent.—Of what, my son?
Of all the good you've ever done?
For, sure I am, you'll ne'er relent,
Nor of one wicked deed repent.
I therefore laugh'd to hear the tale,
Tho' much it did with some prevail;
Nay more, and that is quite uncivil,
He says, you preach against the devil;
And talk of kindness, doing good,
And giving, to the hungry, food;
However, to remove all doubt,
I gave a little hand-bill out—
That all you did, or said, or thought,
By me was prompted, by me taught.
Tho' much it did with some prevail;
Nay more, and that is quite uncivil,
He says, you preach against the devil;
And talk of kindness, doing good,
And giving, to the hungry, food;
However, to remove all doubt,
I gave a little hand-bill out—
That all you did, or said, or thought,
By me was prompted, by me taught.
Take care when here, or you'll be baited,
For hypocrites in hell are hated.
Tho' us'd by us as dearest friends,
In t'other world to serve our ends.
For hypocrites in hell are hated.
Tho' us'd by us as dearest friends,
In t'other world to serve our ends.
Your Father,
SATAN.
| A collection of plays and poems | |