Wassel, like a neat sempster and songster; her page bearing a brown bowl, drest with ribands, and rosemary before her.
Offering, in a short gown, with a porter's staff in his hand, a wyth born before him, and a bason, by his torch-bearer.
Baby-Cake, drest like a boy, in a fine long coat, biggin-bib, muckender, and a little dagger; his usher bearing a great cake, with a bean and a pease.
They enter singing.
Now God preserve, as you do well deserve,
Your majesties all, two there;
Your highness small, with my good lords all,
And ladies, how do you do there?
Give me leave to ask, for I bring you a masque
From little, little, little London;
Which say the king likes, I have passed the pikes,
If not, old Christmas is undone.
[Noise without.
Chris. Ho, peace! what's the matter there?
Gam. Here's one o' Friday-street would come in.
Chris. By no means, nor out of neither of the Fish-streets, admit not a man; they are not Christmas creatures: fish and fasting days, foh! Sons, said I well? look to it.