eventful

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 . Then a soldier ,
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 saved , a world too wide
For his shrunk shank , and his big manly voice ,
Turning again toward 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 .