I’m a doctor, a doctor rare, Who travels much at home; My famous pills they cure all ills, Past, present, and to come. My famous pills who’d be without, They cure the plague, the sickness {179} and gout, Anything but a love-sick maid; If _you’re_ one, my dear, you’re beyond my aid! _Here the_ DOCTOR _occasionally salutes one of the fair spectators_; _he then takes out his snuff-box_, _which is always of very capacious dimensions_ (_a sort of miniature warming-pan_), _and empties the contents_ (_flour or meal_) _on the_ CLERGYMAN’S _face_, _singing at the time_— Take a little of my nif-naf, Put it on your tif-taf; Parson rise up and preach again, The doctor says you are not slain. _The_ CLERGYMAN _here sneezes several times_, _and gradually recovers_, _and all shake him by the hand_. _The ceremony terminates by the_ CAPTAIN _singing_— Our play is at an end, And now we’ll taste your cheer; We wish you a merry Christmas, And a happy new year. _The Bessy_. And your pockets full of brass, And your cellars full of beer! _A general dance concludes the play._ THE MASKERS’ SONG. [IN the Yorkshire dales the young men are in the habit of going about at Christmas time in grotesque masks, and of performing in the farm-houses a sort of rude drama, accompanied by singing and music. {180} The maskers have wooden swords, and the performance is an evening one. The following version of their introductory song was taken down literally from the recitation of a young besom-maker, now residing at Linton in Craven, who for some years past has himself been one of these rustic actors. From the allusion to the pace, or paschal-egg, it is evident that the play was originally an Easter pageant, which, in consequence of the decline of the gorgeous rites formerly connected with that season, has been transferred to Christmas, the only festival which, in the rural districts of Protestant England, is observed after the olden fashion. The maskers generally consist of five characters, one of whom officiates in the threefold capacity of clown, fiddler, and master of the ceremonies. The custom of masking at Christmas is common to many parts of Europe, and is observed with especial zest in the Swiss cantons, where the maskers are all children, and the performances closely resemble those of England. In Switzerland, however, more care is bestowed upon the costume, and the songs are better sung.] _Enter _CLOWN, _who sings in a sort of chant_, _or recitative._ I OPEN this door, I enter in, I hope your favour for to win; Whether we shall stand or fall, We do endeavour to please you all. A room! a room! a gallant room, A room to let us ride! We are not of the raggald sort, But of the royal tribe: Stir up the fire, and make a light, To see the bloody act to-night!