i’m feeling curious 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.
i’m feeling curious google
Then a soldier, I’m feeling curious 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 sav’d a world too wide For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice Turning again toward childish treble pipes And whistles in his sound. The last scene of all That ends this strange eventful history Is the second childish.