Orbler
Byron Twain
Brenton
Dexter
Jeanne Dininni
Shilpa KarhikAll the World's A Stage by William Shakespeare
January 19th 2008 04:17
All the World's a Stage
by William Shakespeare
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 honor, 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 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.
Watch Leon Quatermaine recite All the World's a Stage in the 1936 film "As You Like It"
Review in Poem by Dexter
A well worn classic, oft quoted,
Seldom doubted.
A mythic author, legendary in conquest of language,
A universal expression of human experience.
Life is perspective, dwelling in our own vision,
All allude to infancy, adolescence and maturity.
Throughout the stranger hides inside,
In coupling we are aware of weakness.
In battle strength uncommon can bloom, more often destruction
Only after repeated error do we learn of wisdom.
We cease to wonder what others think,
Affection for personal belief, conquers doubt.
Geriatric regression again sends us back to physical experiment,
Limbs movement handicapped to infancy.
The mind claws the wall, slipping slowly,
Is this the fate of all?
by William Shakespeare
The Bard of bards
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 honor, 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 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.
Watch Leon Quatermaine recite All the World's a Stage in the 1936 film "As You Like It"
Review in Poem by Dexter
A well worn classic, oft quoted,
Seldom doubted.
A mythic author, legendary in conquest of language,
A universal expression of human experience.
Life is perspective, dwelling in our own vision,
All allude to infancy, adolescence and maturity.
Throughout the stranger hides inside,
In coupling we are aware of weakness.
In battle strength uncommon can bloom, more often destruction
Only after repeated error do we learn of wisdom.
We cease to wonder what others think,
Affection for personal belief, conquers doubt.
Geriatric regression again sends us back to physical experiment,
Limbs movement handicapped to infancy.
The mind claws the wall, slipping slowly,
Is this the fate of all?
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