All that glisters is not gold [Neapolitan translation]

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 inscroll’d:

Fare you well, your suit is cold.

Cold, indeed, and labor lost.

Then, farewell, heat, and welcome, frost!