William of Orange, Henry VIII and Shakespeare all fell under the spell of posey rings — once England's most popular item of jewellery

Monday, February 14, 1200. In the palaces, castles and manor houses of England, it was only a minor feast day, for St Valentine had not, as yet, become associated with romance. Nevertheless, romance was in the air — it being a widely held medieval belief that this was the day on which birds chose their mates for the coming year. Moreover, the educated classes (thanks to Eleanor of Aquitaine) had become obsessed with the concept of courtly love. It was the era of quests, chivalry and chaste devotion. Love tokens — especially gold rings — were much in vogue.

About this time, an unknown jeweller had the brilliant idea of engraving the outside of his gold rings with a few well-chosen words, thus launching a trend that would last for more than 600 years.

Gold rings with poesies (‘little poems’) — poésie being the Old French for ‘poetry’ — quickly became the single most popular type of jewellery in the country. They were exchanged by lovers, would-be lovers, family members and best friends, but their most common use was as a betrothal or wedding ring. Henry VIII gave a posy ring to Anne of Cleves inscribed: ‘God send me well to kepe.’ William of Orange gave one to Princess Mary inscribed: ‘I’le win and wear you if I can.’ Jewellers used to keep a stock of blank rings, and booksellers promoted inspirational handbooks, such as Loves Garland or Poſies for Rings, which was published in 1624.

I was still in my teens when a friend of my mother’s showed me his collection of posy rings. I was transfixed by their beauty — the soft, almost pure yellow gold, the finely wrought decoration (flowers, leaves, hearts and other symbols) and the elegant script, but what really fascinated me were the inscriptions. ‘I like my choyce.’ ‘True love appears/In midst of tears.’ ‘God has brought to pass that which unlikely was.’ It was as if I were listening to the voices of the long-dead givers and receivers.

The physical appearance of posy rings changed over time. Lombardic script was replaced by Gothic script, which, in turn, gave way to Roman capitals and then italics. Earlier rings carried much more decoration, too. Niello — a hard black paste — was used to fill in the letters and the costlier rings were enamelled in bright colours. The language of courtly love was, of course, Norman French (‘sans de partier’ or ‘without parting’) although some poesies were in Latin (‘Non Auri Sed Amor’ or ‘not gold but love’) and others in a sort of proto-franglais (‘Autre ne wile and evere you best’, which hardly needs translating). Later, they were almost all in English.

The biggest development, however, was the placement of the actual poesies. From the middle of the 16th century, the inscriptions were on the interior rather than the exterior of the hoops, because it was felt that this increased the ring’s magical powers. In 1623, a young woman was described as being so newly married that ‘the poesie of her wedding Ringe is scarce warm from the heat of her finger’ and the character in another 17th-century play says: ‘Whayt strange spells these rings have.’

The cultural importance of posy rings can be gauged from the many references made to them in literature, from George Herbert to Samuel Pepys, Robert Herrick to Lord Byron. Chaucer, in Troylus and Criseyde, speaks of the couple ‘pleying, interchangeden their ringe/Of which I can tell no scripture’. And when Shakespeare’s Hamlet asks: ‘Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring?’ Ophelia responds: ‘’Tis brief, my lord.’ There is evidence, by the way, that Shakespeare had what would now be referred to as a side hustle writing poesies.

My favourite posy story relates to a ring the composer Thomas Whythorne apparently ordered in 1576. He instructed the goldsmith to engrave a poesy that would express his eternal commitment to the recipient. The result — ‘The eye doth find, the heart doth choose, and love doth bind till death doth loose’ — pleased him so much that he decided that if rejected (as he was) he would use it another time.

Regulations introduced in 1855, which required wedding rings to be extensively hallmarked so that there wasn’t much space for anything else, brought the age of the posy ring to an end. Appropriately enough, the V&A Museum has a ring in its collection bearing the inscription: ‘No more of that.’

This feature originally appeared in the February 11, 2026, issue of Country Life. Click here for more information on how to subscribe.