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“All the World’s a Stage”

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from "As You Like It"

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by William Shakespeare

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All the world’s a stage,

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And all the men and women merely players;

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They have their exits and their entrances;

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And one man in his time plays many parts,

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His acts being seven ages.

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At first the infant,

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Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms;

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And then the whining school-boy, [br]with his satchel

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And shining morning face, creeping like [br]snail

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Unwillingly to school.

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And then the lover,

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Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad

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Made to his mistress’ eyebrow.

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Then a soldier,

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Full of strange oaths, and bearded like [br]the pard,

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Jealous in honour, sudden and quick [br]in quarrel,

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Seeking the bubble reputation

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Even in the cannon’s mouth.

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And then the justice,

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In fair round belly with good capon lin’d,

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With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,

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Full of wise saws and modern instances;

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And so he plays his part.

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The sixth age shifts

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Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon,

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With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;

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His youthful hose, well sav’d, a world [br]too wide

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For his shrunk shank; and his big manly [br]voice,

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Turning again toward childish treble, [br]pipes

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And whistles in his sound.

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Last scene of all,

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That ends this strange eventful history,

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Is second childishness and mere oblivion;

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Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, [br]sans everything.