The Seven Ages of Man

                                            

Surviving documents that give us  glimpses into the life of William Shakespeare show us a playwright, poet, and actor who grew up in the market town of Stratford-upon-Avon, spent his professional life in London, and returned to stratford a wealthy landowner. He was born on April 23rd, 1564, died on April 23rd, 1616, and is buried inside the chancel of Holy Trinity Church in Stratford. 

We wish we could know more about the life of world's greatest dramatist. Nevertheless, we can enjoy reading his masterpieces. 

This one of them. 

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. 

And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel

And shining morning face, creeping like a snail 

Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, 

Signing like a furnace, with a foeful ballad

Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, 

Full of strange oaths, and bearded like a 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 shifs 

Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, 

With spectacleson noseand 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 childlish 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.