-
All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages.
- At first the infant,
- Mewling and puking
- in the nurse's arms;
-
Then the whining school-boy,
with his satchel
And shining morning face,
creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school.
- And then the lover,
- Sighing like furnace,
- with a woeful ballad
- Made to his mistress' eyebrow.
-
Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths,
and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour,
sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth.
- And then the justice,
- In fair round belly with good capon lin'd,
- With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
- Full of wise saws and modern instances;
- And so he plays his part.
-
The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well sav'd, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank;
and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish
treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound.
- Last scene of all,
- That ends this strange eventful history,
- Is second childishness and mere oblivion;
- Sans teeth,
- sans eyes,
- sans taste,
- sans every thing.
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