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,
 At first the infant, mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
 Then, the whining schoolboy with his satchel and shining morning face.
 And then the lover, sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad.
 Then a soldier, full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, seeking the bubble reputation even in the cannon's mouth.
 And then the justice in fair round belly, with good capon lin'd, full of wise saws, and modern instances,
 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 so wide.