Till I’m hard at death’s door—
This rib, by the way, is confoundedly sore).
Semich. 1. With my croak! croak! croak!
Semich. 2 (dim.). Croak! croak! croak!
Full Chorus (in a dying cadence). Croak! croak! croak!
[The Frogs disappear.
Bacchus (looking over the boat’s edge). Spoke! spoke! spoke!
[To CHARON.
Pull away, my old friend,
For at last there’s an end