Dives:
 Help, father Abraham! Help, for mercy's sake!
 Behold my torments in this burning lake!
 Send Lazarus with whirlwinds, that he may
 These flakes of melting sulphur fan away.

Abraham:
 What son of Hell and darkness dare molest
 This blessed saint, scarce warm yet on my breast?

Dives:
 'Tis I, great Mammon's equal one, whose lot
 Is only Tophet now.

Abraham:
 I know thee not.

Dives:
 Father, 'tis Dives, 'tis thy son, 'tis I
 Who, purpled o'er, faced once deliciously;
 Linen of Egypt then adorned my head,
 Who now in flames lie thus enveloped.

Abraham:
 And can'st thou now his charity implore
 Whom thou saw'st lately at thy flinty door,
 Begging for crumbs, those crumbs that fell beside
 Thy o'ercharged table, and was then denied?
 Vain soul!

Dives:
 Some pity take!

Abraham:
 Remember, son,
 Thy dogs had pity on him; thou had'st none.

Dives:
 Yet they were mine relieved him, O in lieu,
 Let him vouchsafe me but a little dew
 To cool my tongue.

Abraham:
 Not the least drop of grace
 Can ever enter that forsaken place;
 Beside, th'enfathomed gulf is fixed so,
 That none can pass 'twixt us and you below.

Dives:
 Then send them to my brethren lest they come
 To feel the weight of my eternal doom.

Abraham:
 They've Moses to forewarn them.

Dives:
 Oh! but they
 Far sooner will a dead man's voice obey.

Abraham:
 If Sinai's roaring thunder from on high
 Cannot be heard, how should a dead man's cry?

Chorus:
 'Twill be too late to knock and call and pray,
 O open, Lord, open in that dreadful day;
 For when Death's fatal hand once shuts the door,
 'Twill be too late; the gates of mercy never open more.