St. George. Oh Turk, oh Turk, do not boast,
Or I will cut you down as small as dust.
Turkish Knight. Oh, St. George, do not threaten,
Or I will cut you down with my rusty old weapon.
St. George. Oh Turk, oh Turk, do not caper,
Or I will cut you down with my old rapier.
Father Christmas. Oh Turk, oh Turk, what have you done?
You have wounded my beloved son.
Turkish Knight. Well, didn't he give me the challenge to do it, and how could I deny it?
See how high he was, and now see how low he is.
Father Christmas. Arise, St. George, and do not refrain.
But boldly rise, and fight that dreadful Turk again.
Turkish Knight (on one knee). Down on my bending knee,
A poor Turkish slave, I crave to thee.
St. George. Get up, you Turkish Knight,
Go home to your Turkish land and fight;
Go home and tell them what champions there is in Old England dwells.
I will send in my Valiant Soldier.
Father Christmas. Walk in, you Valiant Soldier.
Enter Valiant Soldier.
Valiant Soldier. In comes I the Valiant Soldier,
Bold Slasher is my name.
My head is crowned in iron,[1]
My body is cased in steel,[2]
And with my sword into my knuckle-bone
I will fight this Turk all in this field;
I will pull out my sword and fight, pull out my purse and pay.
For satisfaction will I have before I go away.
Turkish Knight. No satisfaction shall you have,
No satisfaction will I give,
