'Tis vayne to add a ring or gemme,
Your eare itselfe outpasseth them.
When idle words are passing here,
I warne and pull you by the eare.
This silken chayne stands wayting here
For golden tongues to tye on there.
Here silken twynes, there locks you see--
Now tell me which the softer bee?
More verses by William Strode
- A Watch-String
- Epitaph On Mr. Bridgeman
- A Watch Sent Home To Mrs. Eliz: King, Wrapt In Theis Verses
- An Epitaph On Sr John Walter, Lord Cheife Baron
- A Purse-String