The fourth act is taken up with an only partially successful attack by James, David, and Patrick, on a cruel enchanter, Argalio, who at least is put to flight, and _that_, at all events, as the knights remark, is something to be thankful for. The fifth and grand act reveals to us the powerful magician, Brandron, in his castle. He holds in thrall the King of Macedon--a little circumstance not noted in history; and he has in his possession the seven daughters of his majesty transformed into swans. The swans contrive to make captives of six of the knights as they were taking a “gentle walk” upon his ramparts. They are impounded as trespassers, and Brandron, who has some low comedy business with Suckubus, will not release them but upon condition that they fight honestly in his defence against St. George. The six duels take place, and of course the champion of England overcomes all his friendly antagonists; whereupon Brandron, with his club, beats out his own brains, in presence of the audience. At this crisis, the King of Macedon appears, restored to power, and inquires after his daughters. St. George and the rest, with a use of the double negatives that would have shocked Lindley Murray, declare “We never knew, nor saw no ladies here.” The swans, however, soon take their pristine form, and the three daughters appear fresh from their plumes and their long bath upon the lake. Upon this follows the smart dialogue which we extract as a sample of how sharply the King of Macedon looked to his family interests, and how these champion knights were “taken in” before they well knew how the fact was accomplished. _Mac._ Reverend knights, may we desire to know which of you are unmarried? _Ant., Den., and Pat._ We are. _Geo._ Then here’s these ladies, take ’em to your beds. _Mac._ George highly honors aged Macedon. _The three Knights._ But can the ladies’ love accord with us? _The three Ladies._ Most willingly! _The three Knights._ We thus then seal our contract. _Geo._ Which thus we ratifie. Sit with the brides, most noble Macedon; And since kind fortune sent such happy chance, We’ll grace your nuptials with a soldier’s dance. And, fore George, as our fathers used to say, they make a night of it. The piece ends with a double military reel, and the audiences at the Bull and the Cockpit probably whistled the tune as they wended their way homeward to crab-apple ale and spiced gingerbread. Next to the Champions of Christendom, the King’s Knight Champion of England is perhaps the most important personage--in the point of view of chivalry. I think it is some French author who has said, that revolutions resemble the game of chess, where the pawns or pieces (_les pions_) may cause the ruin of the king, save him, or take his place. Now the _champ pion_, as this French remark reminds me, is nothing more than the field _pion_, pawn, or piece, put forward to fight in the king’s quarrel.