_K. of Egypt._ Sir, to express thy beauty, I am not able, For thy face shines like a very kitchen table; Thy teeth are no whiter than the charcoal, And thy breath stinks like the.......! _Alex._ Stand off, thou dirty dog, for by my sword thou’s die, I’ll make thy body full of holes, and cause thy buttons flie. [_Exeunt._ ACT. III.—SCENE I. King of Egypt _fights_, _and is killed_. _Enter_ Prince George. Oh! what is here? Oh! what is to be done? Our king is slain, the crown is likewise gone; Take up the body, bear it hence away, For in this place no longer shall it stay. The CONCLUSION. Bounser Buckler, velvet’s dear, And _Christmas_ comes but once a year, Though when it comes, it brings good cheer, But farewell _Christmas_ once a year. Farewell, farewell, adieu! friendship and unity, I hope we have made sport, and pleas’d the company; But, gentlemen, you see, we’re but young actors four, We’ve done the best we can, and the best can do no more. [Illustration] Christmas Play of St. George and the Dragon. AS REPRESENTED IN THE WEST OF ENGLAND. _Enter_ Father Christmas. HERE come I, old Father Christmas, Welcome, or welcome not, I hope old Father Christmas Will never be forgot. I am not come here for to laugh or to jeer, But for a pocketfull of money, and a skinfull of beer; To show some sport and pastime, Gentlemen and ladies in the Christmas time. If you will not believe what I do say, Come in the Turkish Knight—clear the way. _Enter the_ Turkish Knight. Open your doors, and let me in, I hope your favors I shall win; Whether I rise, or whether I fall, I’ll do my best to please you all. St. George is here, and swears he will come in, And if he does, I know he’ll pierce my skin. If you will not believe what I do say, Come in the King of Egypt—clear the way. _Enter the_ King of Egypt. Here I, the King of Egypt, boldly do appear, St. George, St. George, walk in, my son and heir. Walk in, my son St. George, and boldly act thy part, That all the people here may see thy wondrous art. _Enter_ Saint George. Here come I, St. George, from Britain did I spring, I’ll fight the Dragon bold, my wonders to begin. I’ll clip his wings, he shall not fly; I’ll cut him down, or else I die. _Enter the_ Dragon. Who’s he that seeks the Dragon’s blood, And calls so angry, and so loud? That English dog, will he before me stand? I’ll cut him down with my courageous hand. With my long teeth, and scurvy jaw, Of such I’d break up half a score, And stay my stomach, till I’d more. [St. George _and the_ Dragon _fight_: _the latter is killed_.] Father Christmas.