Come, Charon; come, hell’s sculler, waft me o’er
Your sable streams, which look like molten pitch;
My funeral rites are made, my hearse hung rich.
[Exeunt Ghost and Revenge. A great noise within.
Within. Charon, a boat! Charon, Charon!
Charon. Who calls so loud on Charon?
Indeed ’tis such a time, the truth to tell,
I never want a fare to pass to hell.
[Exeunt.
Sound a Flourish. Enter marching Horatio and Lorenzo, leading Prince Balthezar; Lord General, Villuppo, and Cassimero, with followers.