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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.
(Act 2, scene 7, lines 146–73)
This long passage is also the most famous in the entire play, often having been anthologized as a self-contained poem. The speaker of these lines is Jaques, who delivers this discourse on “the seven ages of man” as a counterpoint to Duke Senior’s persistent optimism. Orlando has just arrived at the duke’s camp and recounted his own struggles, to which the duke tells his men: “Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy. / This wide and universal theater / Presents more woeful pageants than the scene / Wherein we play” (2.7.142–45). Picking up on the duke’s theatrical metaphor, Jaques offers an extended speech where he pushes the metaphor to an extreme degree, outlining his seven ages in great detail. The speech offers a rather depressing view on the progression of a human life, which proceeds from the mewling infant to the childish elder, who has aged into “mere oblivion.” The stages in the middle are all equally pathetic. According to Jaques, a person never quite fits into the world as it really exists, no matter the stage of life, which results in inevitable pain and suffering. A dismal perspective indeed.
Despite being such a famous set piece, Jaques’s speech is also ridiculous. It’s ridiculous in part because, already by Shakespeare’s time, the metaphor of life as a stage play was already a cliché. Although Duke Senior is the first to reference this metaphor, it’s Jaques who takes it up and develops it into such a lengthy and solemn oration. The speech is also ridiculous because Jaques delivers it without a proper occasion. The duke’s optimistic comment about not being alone in his unhappiness functions well to celebrate Orlando’s arrival at camp, but Jaques’s speech adds little. In fact, the morose nature of the speech clearly detracts from the mood just established. One pragmatic reason for the speech’s length might be that it spans the time necessary for Orlando to depart, retrieve his servant Adam, and return with him. In other words, the speech serves a dramatic function. It also sets up a dramatic irony. Indeed, Orlando and Adam’s arrival at the end of the speech deflates Jaques’s vision. His discourse concludes with a dismal portrait of old age, “Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.” Yet the aged Adam is the very picture of steadfast loyalty and grace.
