A basket of borrowed brass candlesticks being returned brought with it the image of pirate gold or a dragon`s treasure trove. I know from experience that 'all that glisters is not gold', but shiny things still catch my eye's fancy, and my heart thrills with the thought of things that are not treasures, but feel as if they might be a fair substitution.
O @#!*% ! what have we here?
A carrion Death, within whose empty eye
There is a written scroll! I'll read the writing.
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 enfold.
Had you been as wise as bold,
Young in limbs, in judgment old,
Your answer had not been inscroll'd:
Fare you well; your suit is cold.
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