The combat is renewed, and the Turkish knight falls prostrate, on which the Foreign King comes forward, shouting: St. George, St. George, what hast thou done, For thou hast slain mine only son! But, after marching round the fallen hero, he cries: Is there a doctor to be found, That can cure this man lies bleeding on the ground? In response, the doctor appears: O yes, there is a doctor to be found, That can cure this man lies bleeding on the ground. The anxious father asks: Doctor, doctor, what is thy fee? The doctor replies: Ten guineas is my fee, But ten pounds I’ll take of thee. The king answers: “Take it, doctor, but what canst thou cure?” The doctor’s pretensions are high, for he says: I can cure the ague, palsy, and the gout, And that’s a roving pain that goes within and out; A broken leg or arm, I soon can cure the pain, And if thou break’st thy neck, I’ll stoutly set it again. Bring me an old woman of fourscore years and ten, Without a tooth in her head, I’ll bring her young again. The king observes: “Thou be’st a noble doctor if that’s all true thou be’st talking about.” And the doctor, taking to prose, replies: “I’m not like those little mountebank doctors that go about the streets, and say this, that, and the other, and tell you as many lies in one half-hour as you would find in seven years; but what I does, I does clean before your eyes, and ladies and gentlemen, if you won’t believe your own eyes, ’tis a very hard case.” The king agreeing that it is, the doctor goes to the patient, saying: “I have a little bottle that I call golden foster drops. One drop on the root of this man’s tongue and another on his crown, will strike the heat through his body, and raise him off the ground.” Accordingly the Turkish knight slowly rises and decamps, St. George exclaiming: “Arise, arise, thou cowardly dog, and see how uprightly thou can’st stand. Go home into your own country and tell them what old England has done for you, and how they’ll fight a thousand better men than you.” This last speech may have been added after the Crimean War, as the drama was copied out in 1857; but the staple of it was known long before, though with variations, in different villages, and it always concludes with little Johnny Jack, the smallest of the troup, with a bundle of dolls on his back, going round with a jingling money-box, saying: Here comes I, little Johnny Jack, Wife and family at my back, My family’s large though I am small, And so a little helps us all. Roast beef, plum pudding, strong beer and mince-pies, Who loves that better than Father Christmas or I? One mug of Christmas ale soon will make us merry and sing; Some money in our pockets will be a very fine thing. So, ladies and gentlemen, all at your ease, Give the Christmas boys just what you please.