Classic Poem

O hell! What have we here?
A carrion Death, within whose empty eye
There is a written scroll! I'll read the writing.
[Reads]"All that glisters is not gold;
Often have you heard that told.
Many a man his life hath sold
But my outside to behold.
Gilded tombs do worms infold.
Had you been as wise as bold,
Young in limbs, in judgment old,
Your answer had not been enscrolled.
Fare you well; your suit is cold." II, vii
Cold, indeed, and labor lost.
Then, farewell, heat, and welcome, frost!