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Poem by Thomas Shadwell
Prepare, prepare, new Guests draw near And on the brink of Hell appear. Kindle fresh Flame of Sulphur there. Assemble all ye Fiends, Wait for the dreadful ends Of impious Men, who far excell All th'Inhabitants of Hell. Let 'em come, Let 'em come, To an Eternal dreadful Doom, Let 'em come, Let 'em come. In Mischiefs they have all the Damn'd out-done; Here they shall weep, and shall unpitty'd groan, Here they shall howl, and make Eternal moan. By Bloud and Lust they have deserv'd so well, That they shall feel the hottest flames of Hell. In vain they shall here their past mischiefs bewail, In exquisite Torments that never shall fail. Eternal Darkness they shall find, And them Eternal chains shall bind To infinite pain of Sense and Mind. Let 'em come, Let 'em come, To an Eternal dreadful Doom, Let 'em come, Let 'em come.
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