At first the infant, mewling and puking in the nurse's
arms.
Pueritas
Then the whining schoolboy, with his sachel and shining
morning face creeping like a snail unwilling to school.
Adolescentia
And then the lover, sighing like a furnace, with a woeful
ballad made to his misstress' eyebrow.
Inventus
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.
Virilitas
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 the part.
Senecus
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.
Decrepitas
Last scene of all, that ends this strange eventful history,
is second childishness and mere oblivion; sans teeth, sans eyes,
sans tast, sans everything.
PostScriptus
In America, the seven ages of man have become; preschooler,
Pepsi generation, baby boomer, mid-lifer, empty-nester, senior
citizen and organ doner. ~ Bill Crosby
