DIONYSUS. There.
CHARON. No tomfoolery! row hard, and put some heart into the work!
DIONYSUS. Row! and how can I? I, who have never set foot on a ship?
CHARON. There's nothing easier; and once you're at work, you will hear some enchanting singers.
DIONYSUS. Who are they?
CHARON. Frogs with the voices of swans; 'tis most delightful.
DIONYSUS. Come, set the stroke.
CHARON. Yo ho! yo ho!
FROGS. Brekekekex, coax, coax, brekekekekex, coax. Slimy offspring of the marshland, let our harmonious voices mingle with the sounds of the flute, coax, coax! let us repeat the songs that we sing in honour of the Nysaean Dionysus[414] on the day of the feast of pots,[415] when the drunken throng reels towards our temple in the Limnae.[416] Brekekekex, coax, coax.
DIONYSUS. I am beginning to feel my bottom getting very sore, my dear little coax, coax.