All the World's a Stage
Öykü Penceresi Metni
- All the world's a stage,And all the men and women merely players;They have their exits and their entrances,His acts being seven ages.
- INK
- ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGE
- The sixth age shiftsInto the lean and slipper’d pantaloon,With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;His youthful hose, well sav’d, a world too wideFor his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,Turning again toward childish treble, pipesAnd 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.
- And then the lover,Sighing like furnace, with a woeful balladMade to his mistress’ eyebrow.
- Then a soldier,Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,Seeking the bubble reputationEven 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.
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