Thought I would have a bash at Shakespeare this morning. One of my favourite plays is As You Like It. I love the character of Phoebe (who I played in my younger days) and the whole play has an entertaining playfulness about it. It’s filled with witty banter, mistaken identities, and romantic misadventures. It’s very light-hearted. The main characters are Rosalind, who plays the part of a boy for most of the play, and Orlando, who is hopelessly in love with Rosalind. Throughout the play she tests his love. The lively dialogue, unfolding true love, and joys of life are enhanced by the play's setting in the enchanting Forest of Arden.
I am reciting
From As You Like It the part of Jaques who is melancholic, witty lord who follows Duke Senior in exile to the Forest of Arden. Jaques's philosophical outlook, cynicism, and love of wordplay are famous. His most famous speech is the "All the world’s a stage" monologue (Act 2, Scene 7), where he reflects on the seven stages of human life. Here is my attempt.
Jaques to Duke Senior
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.
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