Here I, the King of Egypt, boldly do appear, St. George, St. George, walk in, my only son and heir. Walk in, my son St. George, and boldly act thy part, That all the people here may see thy wond'rous 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._ Is there a doctor to be found All ready, near at hand, To cure a deep and deadly wound, And make the champion stand. _Enter Doctor._ Oh! yes, there is a doctor to be found All ready, near at hand, To cure a deep and deadly wound, And make the champion stand. _Father Christmas._ What can you cure? _Doctor._ All sorts of diseases, Whatever you pleases, The phthisic, the palsy, and the gout; If the devil's in, I'll blow him out. _Father Christmas._ What is your fee? _Doctor._ Fifteen pound, it is my fee, The money to lay down. But, as 'tis such a rogue as thee, I cure for ten pound. I carry a little bottle of alicumpane; Here Jack, take a little of my flip flop, Pour it down thy tip top; Rise up and fight again. [_The Doctor performs his cure, the fight is renewed, and the Dragon again killed._ _Saint George._ Here am I, St. George, That worthy champion bold, And with my sword and spear I won three crowns of gold. I fought the fiery dragon, And brought him to the slaughter; By that I won fair Sabra, The King of Egypt's daughter. Where is the man, that now will me defy? I'll cut his giblets full of holes, and make his buttons fly. _The Turkish Knight advances._ Here come I, the Turkish Knight, Come from the Turkish land to fight. I'll fight St. George, who is my foe, I'll make him yield before I go; He brags to such a high degree, He thinks there's none can do the like of he. _Saint George._ Where is the Turk, that will before me stand? I'll cut him down with my courageous hand. [_They fight, the Knight is overcome, and falls on one knee._ _Turkish Knight._ Oh! pardon me, St. George, pardon of thee I crave, Oh! pardon me this night, and I will be thy slave. _Saint George._ No pardon shalt thou have, while I have foot to stand, So rise thee up again, and fight out sword in hand. [_They fight again, and the Knight is killed. Father Christmas calls for the Doctor, with whom the same dialogue occurs as before, and the cure is performed._ _Enter the Giant Turpin._