Speaker 1: The arraignment, conviction and imprisonment of Christmas on Saint Thomas's
Day last, and how he broke out a prison in
the holidays and got away only left his hoary hair
and gray beard sticking between two iron bars of a
window with a hue and cry after Christmas. And a
letter from mister Woodcock, a fellow in Oxford to a
malignant lady in London. And diver's passages between the lady
and the crier about old Christmas and what shift he
was fain to make to save his life and great
stir to fetch him back again with divers other witty
passages prepared by some and minced pie for sicily plum porridge,
and are to be sold by Ralph Fiddler Chandler at
the sign of the pack of Cards in Mustard Alley
in Braun Street, sixteen forty five. This is a LibriVox recording.
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by algiepug Perth, Western Australia. Lady, I beseech you for
the love of Oxford Hire, A crier I will see
him paid for his pains. To cry old Father Christmas,
and keep him with you if you can meet with
him and stay him till we come to London, for
we expect to be there shortly, and then we will
have all things as they were, Won't I warrant you
hold up your spirits and let not your old friends
be lost out of your favor. For his sake? Who
is your ever servant, Joe Woodcock? Lady, honest cry, I
knew thou newest old Father Christmas. I am sent to
thee from an honest scholar of Oxford that hath given
me many a hug and kiss in Christmas time, when
we have been ready to Christmas for thee here he
has gone from heads, and that we have lost the
poor old man. You know what marks he hath and
how to cry him crier? He shall pay me for
my pains. Lady, your old friend, mister Woodcock of Oxford.
Wilt thou take his word crier? I will cry him.
I warrant you through the city and country, and it
shall go hard, but I will find him out. I
can partly guess who can tell some news of him?
If any people in England can for I am acquainted
with all his familiar friends. Trust me in this business.
I'll bring you word within few days. Oh yes, oh yes,
oh yes. Any man or woman, whether popish or prolactical,
superstitious or judaical, or what person so of any tribe
or trulleybub that can give any knowledge or tell any
tidings of an old, old, old, very old, gray bearded
gentleman called Christmas, who was wont to be a very
familiar guest and visit all sorts of people, both rich
and poor, and used to appear in glittering gold, silk
and silver in the court and in all shapes in
the theater in Whitehall, and had ringing feasts and jollity
in all places, both in the city and country for
his coming. If you went to the temple, you might
have found him there at inn and inn till many
a gentleman had outed all the money from his pocket,
and after all the butlers found him blocked up in
their boxes, and in almost every house, you might have
found him at cards and dice. The very boys and
children could have traced him, and the beggars have followed
him from place to place, him walking up and down
and in every house, roast beef and mutton pies and
plum porridge, and all manner of delicates round about him,
and everyone saluting Merry Christmas. If you had gone to
the Queen's chapel, you might have found him standing against
the wall, and the papists weeping and beating themselves before him,
and kissing his hoary head with superstitious tears, in a
theater exceeding all the plays of the bull, the Fortune,
and the cock pit for age. This hoary headed man
was of great years, and as white as snow. He
entered the Romish calendar time out of mind is old
or very fleer, as Father Methusalem, was one that looked
fresh in the bishop's time, though therefore made him pine
away ever since he was full and fat as any
dumb doctor of them all. He looked under the consecrated
lawn sleeves as big as bulled beef, just like Bacchus
upon a ton of wine, when the grapes hang shaking
about his ears. But since the catalike liquor is taken
away from him, he is much wasted, so that he
hath looked very thin and ill of late. But the
wanton women that are so mad after him, do not
know how he is metamorphized, so that he is not
now like himself, but rather like Jack Olnt. But yet,
some other marks that you may know him by is
that the wanton women dote after him. He helped them
to so many new gowns, hats, and handkerchiefs, and other
fine knacks, of which he hath a pack on his back,
in which is good store of all sorts. Besides the
fine knacks that he got out of their husband's pockets
for household provisions. For him, he got prentices, servants and scholars,
many play days, and therefore was well beloved by them also,
and made all merry with bagpipes, fiddles and other musics, gigs,
dancers and mummings. Yay, the young people had more merry
days and hours before him whilst he stayed, which was
in some houses twelve days, in some twenty, in some more,
in some less than in all a year. Again, all
knew therefore that by your diligent inquiry, can tell me
any tidings of this old man called Christmas, and tell
me where he may be met withal, whether in any
of your streets or elsewhere, though in never so straightened
a place in an apple woman's stall, or grocer's current tub,
in a cook's oven, or the maid's porridge pot, or
crept into some corner of a translator shop where the
cobbler was so merrily to chaunt his carols. Whosoever can
tell what is become of him, or where he may
be found, let them bring him again into England to
the Crier, and they shall have a benediction from the Pope,
one hundred oaths from the cavaliers, forty kisses from the
wanton wenches, and be made persevered to the next archbishop.
Malignants will send him a piece of brawn, and ever
apprenticed boy will give him his point of wine. Next
Holy Thursday, the good wives will keep him in some
corner of their mince pies, and the new Nuncio Island
will return him to be canonized the next reformation of
the calendar. And so Pope save Christmas. Crier, Lady, I
am come to tell you what return I can make
of the crying of old Father Christmas, which I have done.
And I am now here to give you an answer, lady,
well said, honest mister Woodcock will remember you for it. Cry,
the poor old man upon Saint Thomas. His day was
a rain condemned, and after conviction cast into prison amongst
the king's soldiers, fearing to be hanged or some other
execution to be done upon him, and got out at
so narrow a passage between two iron bars of a window,
that nothing but onely his old gray beard and hoary
hair of his head stuck there, but nothing else to
be seen of him. And if you will have that,
compound for it, lest it be sold among the sequestered goods,
or burnt with the next popish pictures by the hand
of the hangman lady.
Speaker 2: But is old old, good old Christmas gone? Nothing but
the hair of his good, grieve old head and beard left. Well,
I will have that, seeing I cannot have more of him.
One lock whereof will serve mister Woodcock for a token.
But what is the event of his departure?
Speaker 1: Crier? The poor are sorry for it, for they go
to every door of begging, as they were wonte to
do good missus somewhat against this good time. But time
was transform'd away, be gone. He is not for you,
And so they, instead of going to the ale house
to be drunk, were fain to work all the holidays.
The scholars came into the hall where their hungry stomachs
had thought to have found good brawn and Christmas pies,
roast beef and plum porridge. But no such matter. Away,
ye profane, these are superstitious meats. Your stomachs must be
fed with wholesome doctrine. Alas poor tallow faced chandlers. I
met them morning through the streets, and complaining that they
could get no vent for their mustard for want of brawn. Lady, Well,
if ever the Catholics or bishops ruly get in England,
they will set the church doors open on Christmas Day,
and we shall have Mass at the high Altar, as
was used when the day was first instituted, and not
have the Holy Eucharist bard out of school, as schoolboys
do their masters against the festival. What shall we have
our mouths shut to welcome Old Christmas? No, no bid
him come by night over the Thames, and we will
have a back door open to let him in. I
will myself give him his diet for one year to
try his fortune. This time twelvemonth, it may prove better