Wednesday, 18 April 2012

Wednesday; old...ish

Tune your brain and muscles everyday!

The Seven Ages of Man;   (As you like it) William Shakespeare

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players,
They have their exits and 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 honour, 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 lin'd,
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 slipper'd 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 towards 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.; 

  (As you like it) William Shakespeare

 If you can cope with this you coped with anything!



  1. Hello Titania
    sei bellissima !!!!
    Myriam :)))

  2. Myriam; thank you so good of you to call in! Hugs T.

  3. Oh I like the energy from this poem and photo! I love to swing too!

    1. Thank you Karen, very much appreciated; yes the swing is still fun!

  4. You've reminded me of:

    The Swing

    How do you like to go up in a swing,
    Up in the air so blue?
    Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
    Ever a child can do!

    Up in the air and over the wall,
    Till I can see so wide,
    River and trees and cattle and all
    Over the countryside--

    Till I look down on the garden green,
    Down on the roof so brown--
    Up in the air I go flying again,
    Up in the air and down!

    Robert Louis Stevenson

    1. Dear Martin, thank you for this wonderful poetry. I love the poetry of RL Stevenson.
      The Swing is so much fun!

  5. Ah yes, the old age thing is creeping up on me too.

    I love the Shakespeare and you in the swing, looking youthful!