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DUBIA, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: My prime of youth is but a froste of cares
Last Line: And this (o tuchbourne) hath thy treason donne.
Alternate Author Name(s): Barnefield, Richard


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 live and now my life is donne
My tale was harde, and yet it was not told
my frute is falne, and yet my leaves are greene
My youth is spent and yet I am not old.
I saw y[e] world and yet I was not seene
My thread is cut, and yet it is not sponne
And now I live 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 y[e] 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 live and now my lief is donne.

Answer.
Thy prime of youth is frozen w[th] thy faultes
Thy feaste of Joy is finisht w[th] 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 unluckely 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 have impte.
and god y[t] sawe thee, hath p[r]servd our Queene
Her thride still holdes thine perisht thowth unspune.
And she shall live when trayters lives 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 y[u] nev[r] hadst bin made
Thy glory and thy glasse are tymeles runne
And this (O Tuchbourne) hath thy Treason donne.





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