Seven Ages Of Man

by William Shakespeare

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players,
They have their exits and 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 schoolboy with his satchel
And shining morning face,
creeping like snailUnwillingly to school.
And then the lover,Sighing like furnace,
with a woeful balladMade 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 justiceIn 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.