Alexander Montgomerie

Sonnet 63. That He Wrot Not Aganste the Madins of Edinburgh

Quhat reckles rage hes armde thy tygirs tung,
On sueit and simple soulis to speu thy spyte ?
Quhat syren suld such poysond songs haif sung ?
Quhat deuill such ditties devysit to indyte?

Quhat madnes movd such venemous vords to [write ?]
Quhat hellish hands hes led thy bluidie pen ?
Quhat furious feynd inflamde thee so to fl[yte ?]
Thee — no wyse nou to numbred be with men.

Quhat euer thou be, thou art a knave, [I ken,]
So leudly on these lassis to haif leid;
And if thou pleis, appoint hou, vhair, and vhen,
And I sall mak thee, Beist ! not to byde be [it,]

That nather they ar sik as thou hes said,
Nor I am he these rascall raylings maid.