|
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 nurses arms;
Then the whining schoolboy with his satchel
And shining morning face creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school.
Then the lover,
Sighing, like furnace with a woeful balad
Made to his mistress eyebrow.
Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, quick and sudden in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth.
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 in 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 towards a 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.
|
All the world's a shop.
And all the women really shoppers.
They have their skills and their feminine intuition,
And one woman in her life has many plans,
Her life being seven periods.
At first, the brand new baby,
In her pink nursery, sucking her toes.
Then the innocent young girl with Barbie dolls,
Juice and lovely pigtails; hating boy germs,
Maths and cut knees.
Then a thin sulking teenager,
Sick of periods and acne;
Upsetting parents with shrill music
And anorexic diet behavior.
Then a fiancée,
Full of lewd sayings and dressed like a slut,
Overusing alcohol, joints and lip gloss,
Having fun, wanting lots of sex.
Then the parent,
A wife with stretch marks and flat-chested from twins,
She has to have breast implants,
Quarrelling with her husband about the nanny,
Mother-in-law and cheque accounts,
Finding stylish labels, shoes and men,
And so she gets a divorce... and his money.
We pass to the wealthy old matron,
Her once svelte figure is now podgy,
Menopause has caused osteoporosis,
She has dyed hair, daily insulin shots, and incontinence of urine.
In a last sad act,
She has outlived the second husband, wasted his estate,
In her nineties, she gets slow, mind, senile;
With final illness, all ends.
|
