Cornish Christmas Play - 1827 W.Hone (1827) col.122-126 82s---sw.xml mastermummers.org William Hone The Every-day Book and Table Book... : Vol.II London, Thomas Tegg & Son, 1827, col.122-126

Originally prepared for textual analysis during his PhD research on the 'Origins and Development of English Folk Plays' by Peter Millington (2002).

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Original spelling and typography is retained, except that superscripts, long s and ligatured forms are not encoded.

Line identifiers are those used for line types in the Folk Play Scripts Explorer.

 Cornwall England Publ. 1827 Christmas [Not given] Quack Doctor: Hero/Combat: Southern English [Introducer] Father Christmas Turkish Knight Saint George Doctor Hobby Horse Old Squire Hub Bub Box-Holder

This contribution is signed W.S. - i.e. William Sandys

 28-Jan-1995 Peter Millington Entered 25-Mar-1997 Peter Millington File named 15-Jan-2021 Peter Millington TEI-encoded One of the party steps in, crying out - Introducer Room, a room, brave gallants, room, Within this court I do resort To show some sport And pastime, Gentlemen and ladies, in the Christmas time - After this note of preparation, old Father Christmas capers into the room, saying, Father Christmas Here comes I, old Father Christmas. Welcome, or welcome not, I hope old Father Christmas Will never be forgot. I was born in a rocky country, where there was no wood to make me a cradle; I was rocked in a stouring bowl, which made me round shouldered then, and I am round shouldered still. He then frisks about the room, until he thinks he has sufficiently amused the spectators, when he makes his exit with this speech. Father Christmas Who went to the orchard, to steal apples to make gooseberry pies against Christmas? These prose speeches, you may suppose, depend much upon the imagination of the actor Enter Turkish knight. Turkish Knight Here comes I, a Turkish night, Come from the Turkish land to fight, And if Saint George do meet me here I'll try his courage without fear. Enter St. George. Saint George Here comes I, Saint George, that worthy champion bold. And with my sword and spear I won three crowns of gold. I fought the dragon bold, and brought him to the slaughter; By that I won fair Sabra, the king of Egypt's daughter. Turkish Knight Saint George, I pray be not too bold, If thy blood is hot, I'll soon make it cold. Saint George Thou Turkish Knight, I pray forbear, I'll make thee dread my sword and spear. They fight until the T. knight falls. Saint George I have a little bottle, which goes by the name of Elicumpane, If the man is alive let him rise and fight again. The knight here rises on one knee, and endeavours to continue the fight, but is again struck down. Turkish Knight Oh! pardon me, Saint George, oh! pardon me I crave, Oh! pardon me this once, and I will be thy slave. Saint George I'll never pardon a Turkish Knight Therefore arise, and try thy might. The knight gets up, and they again fight, till the knight receives a heavy blow, and then drops on the ground as dead. Saint George Is there a doctor to be found, To cure a deep and deadly wound? Enter Doctor Doctor Oh! yes, there is a doctor to be found, To cure a deep and deadly wound. Saint George What can you cure? Doctor I can cure the itch, the palsy, and gout, If the devil's in him, I'll pull him out. The Doctor here performs the cure with sundry grimaces, and St.George and Knight again fight, when the latter is knocked down, and left for dead. Then another performer enters, and on seeing the dead body, says, Someone Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, If uncle Tom Pearce won't have him, Aunt Molly must. The hobby-horse here capers in, and takes off the body. Enter Old Squire Old Squire Here comes I, old, old Squire, As black as any friar, As ragged as a colt, To leave fine clothes for malt. Enter Hub Bub Hub Bub Here comes I old Hub Bub Bub Bub, Upon my sholders I carries a club, And in my hand a frying pan, So am not I a valiant man. These characters serve as a sort of burlesque on St. George and the other hero, and may be regarded in the light of an anti-masque. Enter the Box-holder Box-Holder Here comes I, great head and little wit, Put your hand in your pocket and give what you think fit. Gentlemen and ladies, sitting down at your ease, Put your hand in your pockets, give me what you please. Saint George Gentlemen and ladies, the sport is almost ended. Come pay to the box, it is highly commended. The box it would speak, if it had but a tongue. Come throw in your money, and think it no wrong.