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All the  World's a Stage (pls read) | by ecstaticist -
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All the World's a Stage (pls read)

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All the world's a stage,

And all the flora and fauna merely players:

They have their exits and their entrances;

And one crocus in its time plays many parts,

Its acts being seven ages. At first the infant,

Straining and bursting in the Earth's arms.

And then the stretching, newly sprouted with his satchel

And shining morning face, creeping like snail

Unwillingly to bloom. And then the lover,

Blazing like furnace, with a woeful ballad

Made to his buzzing 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 reputation amongst blooms

Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,

In fair round belly with withered style skewed,

With petals severe and stamen of formal cut,

Full of wise saws and modern instances;

And so it plays its part. The sixth age shifts

Into the lean and slipper'd seedhead,

Sans petals and stem as a lowly spine,

Its youthful Ovary, well saved, a world too wide

For its stamen and style; and its big worldly color,

Turning again toward pale treble, pipes

And whistles in Autumn wind. Last scene of all,

That ends this strange eventful history,

Is second childishness and mere oblivion,

Sans petals, sans stamen, sans style, sans everything.


Shakespeare (from As You Like It 2/7) with my edits and apologies to The Bard. No one to this day has better mastery of the English language.

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Taken on March 8, 2009