ome, where, until
it shall please almighty God I meete thee, farewell lovinge
wife, farewell the dearest to me on all the earth, farewell!

"By the hand from the heart of thy most faithful louinge
husband,

"CHIDEOCK TICHEBURN."

"VERSES,

"Made by CHEDIOCK TICHBORNE of himselfe in the Tower, the night
before he suffered death, who was executed in Lincoln's Inn
Fields for treason. 1586.

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 dye, 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![80]

ELIZABETH AND HER PARLIAMENT.

The year 1566 was a remarkable period in the domestic annals of our
great Elizabeth; then, for a moment, broke forth a noble struggle
between the freedom of the subject and the dignity of the sovereign.

One of the popular grievances of her glorious reign was the maiden state
in which the queen persisted to live, notwithstanding such frequent
remonstrances and exhortations. The nation in a moment might be thrown
into the danger of a disputed succession; and it became necessary to
allay that ferment which existed among all parties, while each was
fixing on its own favourite, hereafter to ascend the throne. The birth
of James I. this year, re-animated the partisans of Mary of Scotland;
and men of the most opposite parties in England unanimously joined in
the popular cry for the marriage of Elizabeth, or a settlement of the
succession. This was a subject most painful to the thoughts of
Elizabeth; she started from it with horror, and she was practising every
imaginable artifice to evade it.

The real cause of this repugnance has been passed over by our
historians. Camden, however, hints at it, when