"I haue nothyng to present with thi chylde But my pype; hold, hold, take yt in thy hond; Where-in moche pleysure that I haue fond; And now, to oonowre thy gloreose byrthe, Thow schallt yt haue to make the myrthe. II. Pastor. Now, hayle be thow, chyld, and thy dame! For in a pore loggyn here art thow leyde, Soo the angell seyde and tolde vs thy name; Holde, take thow here my hat on thy hedde! And now off won thyng thow art well sped, For weddur thow hast noo nede to complayne, For wynd, ne sun, hayle, snoo and rayne. III. Pastor. Hayle be thou, Lorde ouer watur and landis! For thy cumyng all we ma make myrthe Have here my myttens to pytt on thi hondis. Other treysure have I non to present the with." A pipe, a hat, a pair of mittens! How homely it sounds! In the _York Plays_ the Child receives a broach with a tin bell, two cob-nuts on a string, and a horn spoon that can hold forty pease! In the Nativity scene Joseph warms the Child at the breath of the beasts in the manger. Mare. A! Josoff, husebond, my chyld waxith cold, And we haue noo fyre to warme hym with_. Josoff. Now in my narmys I schall hym fold, Kyng of all kyngis be fyld and be fryth; He myght haue had bettur, and hym-selfe wold, Then the breythyng of these bestis to warme hym with. Mare. Now, Josoff, my husbond, fet heddur my chyld, The Maker off man and hy Kyng of blys. Josoff. That schalbe done anon, Mare soo myld, For the brethyng of these bestis hath warmyd [hym] well, i-wys. The comic element in the preserved plays is represented by Joseph, a weariful old husband, and natural grumbler, who becomes exceedingly fretful when bidden by Mary to find some doves for the Purification offering at the Temple. "Swette Josoff," says Mary, "fuffyll ye owre Lordis hestes." "Why," says her husband ruefully, "Why _and_ woldist th[o]u haue me to hunt bridis nestis? I pray the hartely, dame, leve thosse jestis And talke of thatt wol be. For, dame, woll I neuer vast my wyttis, To wayte or pry where the wodkoce syttis; Nor to jubbard among the merle pyttis, For thatt wasse neyuer my gyse. Now am I wold and ma not well goo: A small twyge wold me ouerthroo; And yche[690] were wons lyggyd aloo, Full yll then schulde I ryse."[691] Finding the task inevitable, he murmurs that "the weakest go ever to the wall," and appeals for sympathy to the audience, particularly to the husbands of young and headstrong wives in the traditional manner beloved by mediæval play-goers, "How sey ye all this company Thatt be weddid asse well asse I? I wene that ye suffer moche woo; For he that weddyth a yonge thyng Must fullfyll all hir byddyng, Or els make his handis wryng, Or watur his iis when he wold syng; And thatt all you do know."[692]