http://ise.uvic.ca/Library/SLT/life/lifesubj+1.html Jacques: 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 schoolboy, 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 canon's mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon* lined, 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 slippered pantaloon* With spectacles on nose and pouch on side; His youthful hose, well saved, 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 everything.