He brags to such a high degree,
He thinks there’s none can do the like of he.
St. 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, saying—
Oh! pardon me, St. George, pardon of thee I crave,
Oh! pardon me this night, and I will be thy slave.
St. George.