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“All the World's a Stage”
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from "As You Like It"
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by William Shakespeare
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All the world's a stage,
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And all the men and women merely players;
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They have their exits and their entrances;
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And one man in his time plays many parts,
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His acts being seven ages.
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At first the infant,
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Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms;
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And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
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And shining morning face, creeping like snail
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Unwillingly to school.
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And then the lover,
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Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
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Made to his mistress' eyebrow.
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Then a soldier,
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Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
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Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
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Seeking the bubble reputation
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Even in the cannon's mouth.
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And then the justice,
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In fair round belly with good capon lin'd,
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With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
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Full of wise saws and modern instances;
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And so he plays his part.
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The sixth age shifts
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Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
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With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
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His youthful hose, well sav'd, a world too wide
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For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
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Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
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And whistles in his sound.
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Last scene of all,
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That ends this strange eventful history,
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Is second childishness and mere oblivion;
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Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.