Chidiock Tichborne

Chidiock Tichborne (after 24 August 1562 – 20 September 1586) was an English conspirator and poet.

Quotes

I sought my death, and found it in my womb,
I looked for life, and saw it was a shade:
I trod the earth, and knew it was my tomb.

The day is past, and yet I saw no sun,
And now I live, and now my life is done.

Tychbornes Elegie, written with his owne hand in the Tower before his execution

• My prime of youth is but a frost of cares,
  My feast of joy is but a dish of paine,
  My Crop of corne is but a field of tares,
  And al my good is but vaine hope of gaine.
  The day is past, and yet I saw no sunne,
  And now I live, and now my life is done.
  My tale was heard, and yet it was not told,
  My fruite is falne, & yet my leaves are greene:
  My youth is spent, and yet I am not old,
  I saw the world, and yet I was not seene.
  My thred is cut, and yet it is not spunne,
  And now I live, and now my life is done.
  I sought my death, and found it in my wombe,
  I lookt for life, and saw it was a shade:
  I trod the earth, and knew it was my Tombe,
  And now I die, and now I was but made.
  My glasse is full, and now my glasse is runne,
  And now I live, and now my life is done.
  • "Tychbornes Elegie" in Verses of Prayse and Joye (1586)
    • Variant readings:
      My prime of youth is but a froste of cares:
      My feaste of joy, is but a dishe of payne:
      My cropp of corne, is but a field of tares:
      And all my good is but vaine hope of gaine:
      The daye is gone, and yet I sawe no sonn:
      And nowe I live, and nowe my life is donn.
      The springe is past, and yet it hath not sprong
      The frute is deade, and yet the leaves are greene
      My youth is gone, and yet I am but yonge
      I sawe the woorld, and yet I was not seene
      My threed is cutt, and yet it was not sponn
      And nowe I lyve, and nowe my life is donn.
      I saught my death, and founde it in my wombe
      I lookte for life, and sawe it was a shade.
      I trode the earth and knewe it was my Tombe
      And nowe I die, and nowe I am but made
      The glasse is full, and now the glasse is run
      And now I live, and nowe my life is donn.
      —Bodleian Library MS. Tanner 169, f.79r
      My prime of youth is but a frost of cares!
        My feast of joy is but a dish of pain!
      My crop of corn is but a field of tares!
        And all my good is but vain hope of gain!
      My life is fled, and yet I saw no sun!
      And now I live, and now my life is done!
      The Spring is past, and yet it hath not sprung!
        The fruit is dead, and yet the leaves be green!
      My youth is gone, and yet I am but young!
        I saw the World and yet I was not seen!
      My thread is cut, and yet it is not spun!
      And now I live, and now my life is done.
      —John Mundy’s Songs and Psalms (1594)
      My prime of youth is but a frost of cares,
        My feast of joy is but a dish of pain,
      My crop of corn is but a field of tares,
        And all my goodes is but vain hope of gain.
        The day is fled, and yet I saw no sun;
      And now I live, and now my life is done!
      My spring is past, and yet it hath not sprung,
        The fruit is dead, and yet the leaves are green,
      My youth is past, and yet I am but young,
        I saw the world, and yet I was not seen.
      My thread is cut, and yet it is not spun;
      And now I live, and now my life is done!
      I sought for death and found it in the wombe,
        I lookt for life, and yet it was a shade,
      I trade the ground, and knew it was my tombe,
        And now I die, and now I am but made.
      The glass is full, and yet my glass is run;
      And now I live, and now my life is done!
      —John Drinkwinter, ed. The Way of Poetry (1922), p. 84
      My prime of youth is but a froste of cares.
        My feaste of Joy is but a dish of paine.
      My cropp of corne is but a feild of tares.
        and all my good is but vayne hope of gayne
      The day is paste and yet I saw no sonne
        And now I liue and now my life is donne
      My tale was harde, and yet it was not told
        my frute is falne, and yet my leaues are greene
      My youth is spent and yet I am not old.
        I saw ye world and yet I was not seene
      My thread is cut, and yet it is not sponne
        And now I liue and now my lief is donne.
      I sought my death and found it in my wombe.
        I lookt for life and saw it was a shade.
      I trod ye yearth and knewe it was my tombe
        And now I die, and now I was but made
      My glasse is full and now my glasse is runne
        And now I liue and now my lief is donne.
      ANSWER
      Thy prime of youth is frozen wth thy faultes
        Thy feaste of Joy is finisht wth thy fall.
      Thy cropp of corne is tares a vayling naughtes
        Thy good god knowes thy hope, thy happ and all.
      Short were thy daies and shadow was thy sonne
        T'obscure thy light vnluckely begunne.
      Time trieth truth and truth, hath treason tript
        Thy faith bare fruite, as thou hadste faithlesse beene.
      Thine ill spent youth, thyne after yeares haue impte.
        and god yt sawe thee, hath prserud our Queene
      Her thride still holdes thine perisht thowth vnspun̄e.
        And she shall liue when trayters lines are donne.
      Thou soughtst thy death, and found it in deserte
        Thou lookst for lief yet lewdly forcd it fade
      Thou trodst the earth and now in earth thou arte
        As men may wish yu neur hadst bin made
      Thy glory and thy glasse are tymeles runne
        And this (O Tuchbourne) hath thy Treason donne.
      — Alexander B. Grosart, ed. The Complete Poems of Richard Barnfield (1876), p. 210. The first section, "My prime of youth is but a froste of cares", is generally attributed to Chidiock Tichborne and first appeared in Verses of Praise and Joy in 1586. The answer was also published in that volume, with the title "Hendecasyllabon T. K. in Cygneam Cantionem Chideochi Tychborne", and may have been written by Thomas Kyd.