THE ARRAIGNMENT, CONVICTION, and IMPRISONING, OF CHRISTMAS: On St. Thomas day last.  
AND How he broke out of Prison in the Holidays and got away, only left his hoary hair, and grey beard, sticking between two Iron Bars of a Window.  
WITH, An Hue and Cry after CHRISTMAS, and a Letter from Mr. Woodcock a Fellow in Oxford, to a Malignant Lady in LONDON.  
And divers 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.  
Jan: 12th London Printed by Simon Minced Pie, for Cissely Plumporridge; And are to be sold by Ralph Fidler Chandler, at the sign of the Pack of Cards in Mustard-Alley, in Brawn-street. 1646. 1645   
Lady. 
HOnest Crier, I know thou knewest old Father christmas; I am sent to thee from an honest scholl●●●f Oxford (that hath given me many a hug and kissed in Christmas time when we have been merry) to cry Christmas, for they hear that he is gone from hence, and that we have lost the poor old man; you know what marks he hath, and how to cry him.  Cryer. 
Who shall pay me for my pains?  Lady. 
Your old friend Mr. Woodcock of Oxford, wilt thou take his word?  Cryer. 
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 will bring you word within few days.  
H o o o o o o o yes, ho e-o o o yes, ho o o o o o o yes;  
Any man or woman, whether Popish or Prelatical, Superstitious or Judaical, Ignorant or Jesuitical, or what person s●ever, of any Tribe or Trullibub; that can give any knowledge, or tell any tidings of an old, old, old, very old, grey bearded Gentleman, called Christmas; who was wont to be a very familiar guest, and visit all sorts of people both poor and rich, and used to appear in glittering gold silk qand silver in the Court, and in all shapes in the Theatre 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 In and In, till many a Gentleman had outed all the money from his pocket, and after all, the Butlers found him locked 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, and seen him walking up and down; and in every house roast brief and Mutton, Pies and Plumporrige, and all manner of delicates round about him, and every one 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 theatre exceeding all he plays of the red Bull, the Forture, or the Cockpit.  
For age, this hoary headed man was of great years, and as white as snow, he entered the Romish Calendar time out of mind●, as old or very near, as Father Mathusalem was, one that looked fresh in the Bishop's time, though their fall made him pine away ever since; he was full, and fat as any dume Doctor, on them all, he looked under the consecrated  sleeves as big as Bul-beefe, just like Bacchus upon a ton of wine, when the grapes hang shaking about his ears; but since the catholic liquor is taken 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 metamorphised; so that he is not now like himself, but rather like a jack a lent.  
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 Hankerches, 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, Giggs, Dances, and Mummings, yea the young people had more merry days, and hours before him whilst he stayed, which was in some houses 12. days, in some 20. in some more, and in some less, then in all the year again: and more Lasses was got with child, when he elevated his knees with his socundity then was in all the time of the lent following.  
The Candlemaker, Card-maker, Cooks, Pimakers, and all fotts of trades seasonable for the time, got well by him, and vended his Commodities best at his coming, and many a broken poor whore could get up a new bawdy house, and a new stock, by the coming of this good fellow.  
The proportion of his feet is well known, for he crept from under the Romish Chair; and was placed in the Calendar only by a popish Edict, to be a time observable for the common People to bring in large offerings to the Pope's holiness, and to maintain the Cardinals, Priests, and Friars.  
If you will know him by his smell, you may scent him amongst the malignants, for they will rather keep his Excrement for a susstitious monument, then let him be quite gone they flock for some looks of his grey head, or pieces of his nails, or a pin of his , or rather than fail, one of the Feathers of his bauble to keep for a relic; something they are resolved to keep in remembrance of him, which way be easisy scented when you come amongst them, for they slink of it as bad as a Friar of his weeds, or a Non of her mantle, which will fume sufficiently in your noses, except they coster you with a little holy water sprinkled upon him to deceve your senses.  
You may also know him by his voice, for he cries just like to the Oxford luncto men, have not I been of great esteem always with your have not I authority, hath not my ways been Idolizied by the most, and what will you leave me now, if ever you stuck to a poor old man, that will do fine acceptable things for you stick to me now, you know I have made you merry, and if the men will not take my part, then all you Women and Boys. Prentices and Servants, do not you leave me, for than I shall die; but you are the staff of my age, then be you my comfort, all you that ever think to see Christmas again, stick to me now close, for I am constrained to remain in the Popish quarters, and dare not show my face where the Parliament have any power, thus you have his marks.  
All you therefore that by your diligent inquiry, can tell 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 straitened a place, in an Applewomans staul, or Grocers Curren Tub, in a Chokes Oven, or the Maid's Porridge pot, or crept in some corner of a Translators shop, where the Cobbler was wont so merrily to chant his carols, whosoever can tell what is become of him, or where he may be found, let them bring him back again into England, to the Crier, and they shall have a Benedection from the Pope, an hundred oaths from the Cavaliers, 40. Kisses from the wanton Wenches, and be made Pursuivant to the next Arch Bishop; Malignants will send him a piece of Brawn, and every Apprentice boy will give him his point next holy Thursday, the goodwives will keep him in some corners of their mince pies, and the new Nun io Ireland will return him to be canonised the next Reformation of the Cilender.  
And so Pape save Christmas,  Cryer. 
Lady I am come to tell you what return I can make you of the crying of old Father Christmas, which I have done, and am now here to give you answer.  Lady. 
Well said honest Crier, Mr. Woodcock will remember you for it.  Cryer. 
The ●oor old man upon St. Thomas his day was arraigned, 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, he broke prison, and got out at so narrow a passage, between two Iron Bars of a Window, that nothing but only his old grey 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 amongst the sequestered goods, or burnt with the next Popish pictures, by the hand of the hangman.  Lady. 
But is old, old, good old Christmas gone? Nothing but the hair of his good, grave old head and beard left! Well, I will have that, seeing I cannot have more of him, one lock whereof will serve Mr. Woodcock for a token; But what is the event of his departure?  Cryer. 
The poor are sorry for it, for they go to every door a begging as they were wont to do (Good Mrs. somewhat against this good Time) but Time was transformed, Away be gone, here is not for you; and so they instead of going to the Alebouse to be drunk, were fain to work all the Holidays. The Scholars came into the Hall, where their hungry stomaches 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 stomach must be fed with wholesome doctrine. Alas poor tallow-faced Chandler's, I met them mourning 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 rule again 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 barred out of School, as School boys 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 it. I will myself give him his diet for one year, to try his fortune, this time twelve month it may prove better.   
FINIS.