Alexander Montgomerie

Sonnet 60. Of the Duleweid. II

Had I a foe that hated me to dead,
For my reuenge, I wish him no more ill
Bot to behold hir eyis, vhilk euer still
Ar feirce against me with so sueet a feid.

Hir looks belyve such honour suld him b[reid,]
His wish wold be, his cative corps to kill.
Euen Plesurs self could not content his wi[ll ;]
Except the, Death, no thing culd him rem[eid.]

The vgly looks of old Medusas eyi[s,]
Compaird to hirs, ar not bot poets leyis ;
For hirs exceids thame in a sharper sort :

The Gorgon bot transformit men in sta[nis,]
Bot she inflammis and freijis both at anis.
To spuljie hairt, that minion makes hir sp[ort.]