_Chorus._ Croak, croak.
BACCHUS. My dear little bull-frog, do prithee be still.
'Tis a sorry vocation--that reiteration,
(I speak on, my honour, most musical nation,)
Of croak, croak.
LEADER (_maestoso._) When the sun rides in glory and makes a bright day,
Mid lilies and plants of the water I stray;
Or when the sky darkens with tempest and rain,
I sink like a pearl in my watery domain:
Yet, sinking or swimming. I lift up a song,
Or I drive a gay dance with my eloquent throng,
Then hey bubble, bubble--
For a knave's petty trouble,
Shall I my high charter and birth-right revoke?
Nay, my efforts I'll double,
And drive him like stubbie
Before me, with--
_Chorus_. Croak, croak, croak.
BACCHUS. I'm ribs of steel, I'm heart of oak,
Let us see if a note
May be found in this throat
To answer their croak, croak, croak.
(_Croaks loudly_.)
LEADER. Poor vanity's son--
And dost think me outdone,
With a clamour no bigger
Than a maiden's first snigger?
(_To Chorus_) But strike up a tune,
He shall not forget soon
(_Chorus_.) Of our croak, croak, croak,
(_Croak, with a discordant crash of music_.)
BACCHUS. I'm cinder, I'm coke,
I have had my death-stroke;
O, that ever I woke
To be gall'd by the yoke
Of this croak, croak, croak, croak.
LEADER. Friend, friend, I may not be still:
My destinies high I must needs fulfil,
And the march of creation--despite reprobation
Must proceed with--(_To Chor._) my lads, must I make application
For a--
_Chorus_. Croak, croak, croak.
BACCHUS (_in a minor key._) Nay, nay--take your own way,
I've said out my say,
And care naught, by my fai',
For your croak, croak, croak.
LEADER. Care or care not, 'tis the same thing to me,
My voice is my own and my actions are free;
I have but one note, and I'll chant it with glee,
And from morning to night that note it shall be--
_Chorus_. Croak, croak, croak.
BACCHUS. Nay then, old rebel, but I'll stop your treble,
With a poke, poke, poke:
Take this from my rudder--(_dashing at the frogs_)--and that from my oar,
And now let us see if you'll trouble us more
With your croak, croak, croak.
LEADER. You may batter and bore,
You may thunder and roar,
Yet I'll never give o'er
Till I'm hard at death's door,
--(This rib's plaguy sore)--
_Semi-chorus_ With my croak, croak, croak.
Semi-chorus (_diminuendo_.) With my croak, croak, croak.
_Full Chorus_ (_in a dying cadence_.) With my
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
To their croak, croak, croak.
(_Bacchus pays his two obols, and is landed_)
[1] The comic performances of the Athenians were usually brought
out at a festival of Bacchus, which lasted for three days. The
first of these was devoted to the tapping of their wine-casks;
the second to boundless jollity (Plato specifies a town, but not
Athens, every single inhabitant of which was found in a state of
intoxication on one of these festivals,) and the third to
theatrical exhibitions in the temple of the patron of the feast.
In this state of excitement it will be easily imagined that some
coarser ingredients were required by the clever but licentious
rabble of Athens, to whom these representations were more
particularly addressed, besides the better commodities of rich
poetry and wit; and hence the deformities which have been so much
complained of in the writings of Aristophanes.
* * * * *