Philomel:
 Charon! O gentle Charon!
 Let me woo thee with tears, and pity now come to me.

Charon:
 What voice so sweet and charming do I hear?
 Say, what thou art?

Philomel:
                     I prithee first draw near.

Charon:
 A sound I hear, but nothing yet I see: speak, where thou art?

Philomel:
 O Charon, pity me! I am a shade, and though no name I tell,
 my mournful voice will say I'm Philomel.

Charon:
 What's that to me? I waft nor fish, nor fowl, nor beast, fond thing, but only human souls.

Philomel:
 Alas for me!

Charon:
              Shame on thy warbling note, 
 that made me hoist my sail and bring my boat, 
 but I'll return: what mischief brought thee hither?

Philomel:
 A deal of love, and much, much grief together.

Charon:
 What's thy request?

Philomel:
 That since she's now beneath that fed my life, I follow her in death.

Charon:
 And that's all? I'm gone.

Philomel:
 For love I pray thee.

Charon:
 Talk not of love; all pray, but no souls pay me.

Philomel:
 I'll give thee sighs and tears.

Charon:
 Why then begin!

Both:
                 And all the while we make
 our slothful passage o'er the Stygian lake,
 thou and I'll sing, to snake these dull shades merry,
 who else with tears, will doubtless drown our ferry.