THE COMPLAINT OF TIME Against the tumultuous and Rebellious Scots.  
Sharply inveighing against them (as most justly they deserve) this year, 1639.  
By W. S.  
LONDON Printed by B. A. and T. F. for Richard Harper in Smithfield, at the Bible and Harp. 1639.   

The Grounds and Reasons of Time's Complaint against the Rebellious Scots.  
THis Land (God be thanked) is blessed in the happy Government of a most gracious King, against whom in despite of Mercy diverse affronts have lately been offered by the Rebellions Scots, who under pretence of Religion would overthrow the Hierarchy of the Church, pulling down the house of God, and building Babel's of their own invention, and maned with this furious zeal, they have raised great forces, and stand ready armed in the Field to resist the head of the Church in his Dominions our most gracious King CHARLES; Time therefore hearing how these bold Attempts under the Title of Covenanters bade acted many outrages, entrenched upon the King's Sovereign power, and have hitherto neglected and slighted his Royal authority; therefore in this complaint of Time some reasons are laid down. For the Chronicles of this Land due witness that Rebels have been always overthrown in their designs, and at last met with a deserved Death. Thus Mortimer who rebelled against King Edward the second, and violently took away his Queen, was afterwards himself taken and beheaded. Also those rude mechannicke Rebels that were led under the conduct of Watt Tiler, Tom Miller, and jack Strae made a great tumultuous uproar in Kent and Essex, until Sir William Walworth than Lord Mayor of London did with his Dagger stab jack Straw in Smithfield, whereupon the Dagger was set in the Arms of London. The rebellion for Perkin Warbeck was soon disanimated, and the Imposture discovered, and so likewise jack Cade and his associates were soon confounded and overthrown, and punished according to their Deserts. And thus Rebellion is like that Ignis fatuus or that fantastic apparition of fire, which running under hedges doth affright Countrypeople, but having blazed a while, it is soon dissipated and extinguished. The Scots therefore cannot promise to themselves any better fortune than their rebellious Predecessors, who were soon scattered and confounded, and their leaders received condign punishment. If therefore any precise Humorist that accounts himself a transcendent Protestant, and a Goliath in Religion▪ when indeed he is an Hypocritical Puritan, if any such do think the complaint of Time against the Scots is too Satirical▪ I would have him know, that the Rebellion of the Scots as it is heinous in its own nature, and deserves a sharp vindication and revenge, so it also hath cast an aspersion upon Time, for both the City and Country do find fault, that it is a very hard, dangerous and doubtful Time. And some in regard of this unnatural Rebellion say, Time declines and grows worse, and that many dissensions, Divisions and Rebellions shall happen in the old Age of Time, unto all which accusations Time doth make answer with one old ancient Verse▪  
Conscia mens recti famae mendacia ridat.  

The Conscience that is clear from spot or stain,  
Laughs at the false reports of flying Fame.  
Time did not cause the Scots rebellious factions,  
Which breaking forth in Time, Time blames their Actions.    

THE COMPLAINT OF Time against the tumultuous and rebellious SCOTS. Anno Dom. 1639.  

AGe now hath silvered o'er the hairs of Time,  
And as I am grown old, so I decline  
In native goodness, else what frantic mood  
Could make the Scots so prodigal of their blood  
To stain their honour by the Imputation  
Of tempting their King to high Indignation  
By being Sons of tumult and of thunder?  
Time grieves for them, and shook with holy wonder  
Admires what Genius leads them on to be  
Revolters against sacred Majesty,  
Why they had best attempt if they think good  
To prove themselves of the Gygantick brood  
Pelion on Ossa hurling up again,  
So to invade the high Olympian name  
Of love; for whether wont their boldness press?  
Unless the just Revenger send redress.  
Time needs not here from his own height descend  
As to make answer to what they pretend  
In frivolous objections, for what pretence  
Can heaven allow them for their bold offence?  
What have they made such a strange Scrutiny  
That none but they have found Divinity?  
Or have they fancied to themselves abstractions  
Of Angel's zeal set forth in devilish actions?  
Will they allow unto the King of Heaven  
No Ceremonies which are duly given  
Unto his Majesty, but will bluntly fall  
Without Ceremony to rebellion all,  
Must they needs tear the Mitre from the head  
Of Bishops; what Antipathy is bred  
Within that Land which doth on England border  
That they should seek equality of disorder?  
Which always tends to ruin, Nature makes  
In all her works a resemblance of Estates,  
The peaceful Bees have Kings, the Wasps have none,  
They only buzz, and sting, and so are gone;  
Most perfect Creatures have the truest sense  
Of Sovereignty and true obedience;  
The Hierarchy of Angels still do cry  
All praise and honour be to God on high  
Whom they obey, and government on Earth  
From Heaven had original and birth.  
And would the Scots think by their furious rage.  
To turn the world into a golden Age  
As in the Infancy of Time? Yet than  
Saturn did reign, and was obeyed by men,  
Then jupiter the ancient world swayed  
Whose Sovereignty was generally obeyed;  
And Time that measures out the works of nature  
From the first being of a form Creature  
To thee not being, was at first created  
By the King of Heaven, and my power is dated  
And whatsoever is his great Decree  
I must therein obey his Majesty.  
But since the Giants wars I was not taken  
With greater fear, nor with more horror struck  
Then when loud Fame did bring unto my Ears  
The Scots attempt; I drowned my cheeks with tears  
And wished that I my Patent might resign  
Before the world should say that aged Time  
Had thus produced by the seeds of dissension  
An armed brood of men sprung from contention  
That in despite of mercy will proceed  
To court their ruin, and desire to bleed.  
Is there a Pleurisy, and an excess  
In Spiritual matters that must find redress  
By such a cruel salve? or doth the Sword  
More mercy than is usual now afford?  
And not cut off ill members, will it spare  
Those who in deep affronts engaged are  
Against their Sovereign? who did woo them long  
By mercy which was powerful and strong  
To conquer good minds, but when his Grace found  
That Balm of mercy could not cure the wound,  
Then our dread Sovereign mindful of his cause,  
Went down against those that did flight his laws  
Armed with his justice full of powerful dread  
For Kings have Iron hands, though feet of Lead.  
Now heaven protect him, Time on aged knees  
Prays that these wasps which scorn the obedient Bees  
Though they are gathered into mighty swarms  
Yet may be all compelled by force of Arm●s  
To yield their stubborn necks, let Angels drive  
These wasps away out of the Church's Hive.  
Who bring no honey, but have often stung  
Their Mother with contentions from them sprung.  
Time hath spoke liberally, but now he'll stay  
No correct himself, for some perhaps will say  
That the Scots bear an earnest great affection  
Unto my Daughter Truth, by whose direction  
In her defence this furious course they take  
For Love of Truth through danger way doth make,  
But they do err herein, for my dear child  
And Daughter Truth's by nature soft and mild.  
CHRIST was all Truth, yet when he came to woo  
The world to Goodness, and the way to show  
Unto all Truth the holy Angels than  
Sang Peace on Earth, and Goodwill unto men.  
Can therefore tumult, and the thundering Drum  
Speak in a language that may well become  
The wooers of fair Truth? Or else transported  
Do they imagine Truth can thus be courted?  
Me thinks I see the Angels hide their faces  
And blush in angry zeal, for their disgraces  
No think the Scots should think fair Truth to win  
From her most just defender, and her King.  
Me thinks I see sad Truth kneel down and speak  
Her wrongs against them who her Laws do break,  
She pleads for Mercy and doth plead again  
And with her Oratory doth inflame  
The Kings most Royal breast, then having got  
His Gracious favour, she tells him the Scot  
With many shows of holiness doth woo her,  
Pretends much inward zealous love unto her  
But yet doth mock her with a smooth pretence  
Of Love to colour over his offence;  
And then she wishes she may never know  
Heaven if Truth did bid them thus to go  
In huddle into Arms, for Truth says she  
Loves and obeys your Sacred Majesty;  
And all my Precepts say that Kings appear  
Like Gods on Earth and his viceregents here;  
Then why should they the Truth and you abuse  
And fasten upon Truth a false excuse?  
No 'tis their Policy that doth extend  
To use my Name to a prodigious end,  
And with the veil of Truth to hide and shroud  
Their proud Ambition which walks in a cloud  
And like a Pillar of fire guides them on  
Into a Wilderness of Rebellion.  
Thus would my Daughter Truth make her complaint  
Against the tumultuous Scots that do so vaunt  
In crying up her name, when heaven knows  
That Truth was never taken with feigned shows.  
Be dumb night-Ravens then, and do not croak  
To piece up the allegiance you have broke  
With fair pretences, for old Time doth know  
You have entrenched on Sovereignty, and do grow  
Giants in your opinion, being so given  
To furious zeal that you would invade Heaven,  
Pluck jupiter out of his Seat, and all  
Of you would then be Gods in general.  
And yet they are but shadows you pretend  
While in substantial matters you offend  
By fallacy joining God and King together,  
And yet will show obedience unto neither;  
There you divide the cause by your affection  
And distinguish of a limited subjection.  
Even Nature doth instruct that you should be  
Subject unto the power of Majesty,  
And all the works of nature seem to speak  
He is a Rebel doth allegiance break.  
Then trust not to yourselves, though you are strong,  
For Heaven will vindicate all Rebellion,  
And Truth doth say of old, No wars can be  
Happy attempted against Sovereignty.  
How dare you still persist; Time bids pull down  
Your baffling Flags, and on your knees fall down,  
And for your Colours let your blushing cheek  
Display them, while you do for mercy seek;  
If not, than Time doth bid you know bold Scots,  
Your Urn is turned, and Fate hath shaken your lots,  
You have betrayed yourselves, up English then  
And show your courage against those contemn  
Heaven in their King, O let not his great cause  
Suffer while they 〈◊〉 his power and Laws.   
FINIS.