Pul'd an old house about their eares, there may be just ground of
stumbling, from the King's refusing to subscribe and emit the
Declaration offered unto him by the Committee of Estates, and
Commissioners of the Kirk, concerning his former carriage, and
resolution for the future (to suffer his nose (like the Committee
of Estates) to be girt under the Kirk's canonicall girdle) in reference
to the Cause of God, and the Enemies, and Friends
thereof.
And they do therefore declare that this Kirk and Kingdom
do not own not espouse any Malignant Party, or Quarrell,
or Interest, (unlesse it be their own) but that they fight merely
upon their former grounds and principles, and in defence of
the Cause of God and of the Kingdom, as they have don these
twelve years past (most part of which time they spent in plundring,
rooking, and invading the North of England.) And
therefore, as they do disclaim ail the sin and guile of the King
and his House, (which in due time they mean to call him to an
Accompt for,) so they will not own him, nor his Interest,
otherwise than with a Subordination to God, and so farre as
hee owns and prosecutes the Cause of God (serving their ends
to scare the English Crows) and disclaim His and his Father's
opposition to the work of God, and all the Enemies likewise
thereof, (that hee may in the end turn Cobler-Royall to the
Kirk, now shee is so pittisully out at heels) and work Journeywork
for the Covenant.)
And they farther declare; That they will with convenient
speed forget all manners, and take into consideration the Papers
lately sent unto Them from (plain) Oliver Cromwell, and
vindicate themselves from all the falshoods conteined therein;
especially in those things wherein the Quarrell between us and
that party is mis-stated, as if (say they) wee owned the late
King's proceedings, and were resolved to prosecute and maintain
His present Majestie's Interest, before, and without acknowledgement
of the sins of his House and former wayes,
and satisfaction to Gods People in both Kingdoms.
West Kirk. 13. August. 1650. A. K[unr]r.
Alas, poor Tarquin, what a pickle art thou in! When hee