Offering, in a short gown, with a porter's staff in his hand, a wyth borne before him, and a bason, by his torch-bearer.

Baby Cake (Twelfth cake), dressed 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.

After some dialogue, Christmas introduces his family in the following song:—

Now, their intent, is above to present,
With all the appurtenances,
A right Christmas, as, of old, it was,
To be gathered out of the dances.
Which they do bring, and afore the king,
The queen, and prince, as it were now
Drawn here by love; who over and above,
Doth draw himself in the geer too.

[Here the drum and fife sounds, and they march about once. In the second coming up, Christmas proceeds to his Song.]

Hum drum, sauce for a coney;
No more of your martial music;
Even for the sake o' the next new stake,
For there I do mean to use it.
And now to ye, who in place are to see
With roll and farthingale hoopèd;
I pray you know, though he want his bow,
By the wings, that this is Cupid.
He might go back, for to cry What you lack?
But that were not so witty:
His cap and coat are enough to note,
That he is the Love o' the City.
And he leads on, though he now be gone,
For that was only his rule:
But now comes in, Tom of Bosom's-Inn,
And he presenteth Mis-rule.
Which you may know, by the very show,
Albeit you never ask it:
For there you may see, what his ensigns be,
The rope, the cheese, and the basket.
This Carol plays, and has been in his days
A chirping boy, and a kill-pot.
Kit cobler it is, I'm a father of his,
And he dwells in the lane called Fill-pot.
But, who is this? O, my daughter Cis,
Minced Pie; with her do not dally
On pain o' your life; she's an honest cook's wife,
And comes out of Scalding-alley.
Next in the trace, comes Gambol in place;
And to make my tale the shorter,
My son Hercules, tane out of Distaff lane,
But an active man and a porter.
Now, Post and pair, old Christmas's heir,
Doth make and a gingling sally;
And wot you who, 'tis one of my two
Sons, card makers in Pur-alley.
Next, in a trice, with his box and his dice,
Mac' pipin my son, but younger,
Brings Mumming in; and the knave will win
For he is a costermonger.
But New Year's Gift, of himself makes shift
To tell you what his name is;
With orange on head, and his gingerbread,
Clem Waspe of Honey lane 'tis.
This, I you tell, is our jolly Wassel,
And for Twelfth night more meet too;
She works by the ell, and her name is Nell,
And she dwells in Threadneedle street too.
Then Offering, he, with his dish and his tree,
That in every great house keepeth,
Is by my son, young Little-worth, done,
And in Penny-rich street he sleepeth.
Last Baby Cake, that an end doth make
Of Christmas merry, merry vein-a,
Is child Rowlan, and a straight young man,
Though he comes out of Crooked lane-a.
There should have been, and a dozen, I ween,
But I could find but one more
Child of Christmas, and a Log it was,
When I had them all gone o'er.
I prayed him, in a tune so trim,
That he would make one to prance it:
And I myself would have been the twelfth,
O! but Log was too heavy to dance it.

Nor must we forget a Masque by Milton, "Comus, a Masque, at Ludlow Castle, 1634," in which appeared the Lord Brockley, Mr. Thomas Egerton, his brother, and the Lady Alice Egerton.

But all Christmas sports were not so gentle as was the Masque, as the following account of the Virgin Queen's amusements shows us. Amongst the original letters preserved by the descendants of Sir John Kytson, of Hengrave Hall, is one addressed by Christopher Playter to Mr. Kytson, in 1572, which contains the following: "At Chris-time here were certayne mars of defence, that did challenge all comers at all weapons, as long sworde, staff, sword and buckler, rapier with the dagger: and here was many broken heads, and one of the mars of defence dyed upon the hurt which he received on his head. The challenge was before the quenes Matie, who seemes to have pleasure therein; for when some of them would have sollen a broken pate, her Majesty bade him not to be ashamed to put off his cap, and the blood was spied to run about his face. There was also at the corte new plays, wh lasted almost all night. The name of the play was huff, suff, and ruff, with other masks both of ladies and gents."