FROGS. Brekekekex, coax, coax.
DIONYSUS. But doubtless you don't care.
FROGS. Brekekekex, coax, coax.
DIONYSUS. May you perish with your coax, your endless coax!
FROGS. And why change it, you great fool? I am beloved by the Muses with the melodious lyre, by the goat-footed Pan, who draws soft tones out of his reed; I am the delight of Apollo, the god of the lyre, because I make the rushes, which are used for the bridge of the lyre, grow in my marshes. Brekekekex, coax, coax.
DIONYSUS. I have got blisters and my behind is all of a sweat; by dint of constant movement, it will soon be saying….
FROGS. Brekekekex, coax, coax.
DIONYSUS. Come, race of croakers, be quiet.
FROGS. Not we; we shall only cry the louder. On fine sunny days, it pleases us to hop through galingale and sedge and to sing while we swim; and when Zeus is pouring down his rain, we join our lively voices to the rustle of the drops. Brekekekex, coax, coax.
DIONYSUS. I forbid you to do it.