Monologue of Jacques

"The whole world is a theater, and the people in it are actors"

(Act II, scene VII)

The whole world is theater.
In it, women, men - all actors.
They have their own exits, departures,
And each one plays a role.
Seven actions in the play toy. Baby first
Roaring bitterly in the arms of the mother ...
Then a whiny schoolboy with a book bag,
With a ruddy face, reluctantly, a snail
Crawling to school. And then a lover
Sighing like an oven, with a sad ballad
In honor of the cute eyebrow. And then the soldier
Whose speech is always full of curses,
Bearded like a leopard
Jealous of honor, a bully in a quarrel,
Ready to seek mortal glory
At least in a cannonball. Then the judge
With a rounded belly, where the capon is hidden,
With a stern look, a trimmed beard,
A storehouse of template rules and maxims, -
That's how he plays the part. The sixth age
It will be a skinny pantalone,
In glasses, in shoes, at the belt - a purse,
In pants that from youth the shore, wide
For withered feet; courageous voice
It is replaced again by a childish treble:
It squeaks like a flute... And the last act,
The end of this whole strange, complicated play -
Second childhood, half-forgetfulness:
Without eyes, without feelings, without taste, without everything.

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;
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover
Sighing like a 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 lin'd,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shift
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. Last scene of all
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion;
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

The whole world is acting

The authorship of this phrase is traditionally attributed to William Shakespeare, but the primary source of Shakespeare's words is the writings of the Roman writer Gaius Petronius. His line "Mundus universus exercet histrioniam" (mundus universus exercet histrionyam) literally translated from Latin means - "The whole world is engaged in acting."

The phrase "Totus mundus agit histrionem" (the whole world plays a comedy) adorned the building of the Globe Theater, for which Shakespeare wrote his plays.

“The whole world is a theater, and the people in it are actors” - this is one of the most quoted phrases of Shakespeare - the beginning of Jacques' monologue from the second act of the comedy “As You Like It”.

All the world's a stage
And all the men and women only 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.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel,
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover
Sighing like a furnace, with a woful 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 bobble reputation.
Even in the cannon's mouth. 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 his part. The sixth age shift
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon
With spectacles on nose well 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. Last scene of all
That ends his strange eventful history,
In second childishness and mere oblivion
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/All_the_world%27s_a_stage

Translated by T. Shchepkina-Kupernik, this monologue reads as follows:

The whole world is theater.
In it, women, men - all actors.
They have their own exits, departures,
And each one plays a role.

Seven actions in the play toy. Baby first
Roaring bitterly in the arms of the mother ...
Then a whiny schoolboy with a book bag,
With a ruddy face, reluctantly, a snail
Crawling to school. And then a lover
Sighing like an oven, with a sad ballad
In honor of the cute eyebrow. And then the soldier
Whose speech is always full of curses,
Bearded like a leopard
Jealous of honor, a bully in a quarrel,
Ready to seek mortal glory
At least in a cannonball. Then the judge
With a rounded belly, where the capon is hidden,
With a stern look, a trimmed beard,
A storehouse of template rules and maxims, -
T How does he play the role? The sixth age
It will be a skinny pantalone,
In glasses, in shoes, at the belt - a purse,
In pants that from youth the shore, wide
For withered feet; courageous voice
It is replaced again by a childish treble:
It squeaks like a flute... And the last act,
The end of this whole strange, complicated play -
Second childhood, half-forgetfulness:
Without eyes, without feelings, without taste, without everything.

This is about the “Human Comedy” in its Renaissance sense, when a person was perceived as the plaything of Fortune, who is the main director in this theater. The seven ages of man mentioned here correspond to the seven planets (thus: the soldier is Mars, the lover is Venus, the judge is Jupiter, the old man is Saturn).

But Shakespeare is often just a resonator of his era, its echo that has reached us. It amplifies, modulates other people's voices. For example, Queen Elizabeth speaking before Parliament and saying the following: “ We, the rulers, step out onto the stage of this world to play our part before the eyes of all mankind...”

Walter Raleigh plays up the idea of the theater world in verse:

What is our life? - A comedy about passion.
Bravurna overture in the first movement.
Mother's womb - dressing room
Comedians are too quick.
Stages - the world, and the viewer in this vale -
Lord, - defames for ignorance of the role.
Like a curtain after a performance - darkness
The grave is waiting, dispassionately cold.
And here we are, playing tricks, going to the end.
But at the last moment - the mask off the face.

(“What’s our life...” Translated by A. Nesterov)

But Raleigh's poem also has its own source: a completely worn out rhetorical comparison, used even in antiquity, for example, in Lucian in the Menippus dialogue: “ ... human life is like some kind of long procession, in which Fate leads and indicates the places, determining each of his clothes. Snatching out who happens to be, puts on him royal clothes, a tiara, gives him spearmen, crowns his head with a diadem; he rewards another with the dress of a slave, he gives beauty to a third, and he makes another ugly and ridiculous: after all, the spectacle should be varied! Often during the procession, she changes the outfits of some of the participants, not allowing the day to end in its original form. At the same time, she forces Croesus to take the clothes of a slave or captive; Meandrius, who had previously walked along with the servants, she hands over the kingdom of Polycrates, allowing some time to use the royal clothes. But as soon as the procession is over, everyone takes off and returns their clothes along with the body, after which their appearance becomes the same as it was before the start, no different from the appearance of a neighbor. And so others, out of ignorance, are upset when Fate commands them to return their clothes, and they become angry, as if they were being deprived of some property, not realizing that they are only returning what was given to them for temporary use.”

And there is also a poem by Sir Henry Wotton (1568-1639), a friend of John Donne:

De morte

Man's life a tragedy: his mother's womb
(From which he enters) is the trining room;
This spacious earth the theatre; and the stage
This country which he lives in; passion, rage,
Folly and vice are actors: the first cry
The prologue to th' ensuing tragedy.
The former act consistent of dumb shows;
The second, he to more perfection grows;
I'th third he is a man, and doth begin
To nature vice and act the deeds of sin:
I'th fourth declines; I'th fifth diseases clog
And trouble him; then death's his epilogue.

[Human life is a tragedy: the mother's womb / (From which he enters the stage>) - a dressing room; / This earthly expanse is a theater; and the stage / - The country where he lives; passion, anger, / Stupidity and vice - actors: the first cry / - Prologue to the coming tragedy. / The first act in its content is a pantomime; / Second act> - the hero is improving; / In the third - he is a man and begins / to pay tribute> to the vice inherent in his nature, and commit sins: / In the fourth - he goes to sunset; In the fifth disease surrounds / And plagues him; and then - death, his epilogue.]

Julius Kim "Theatrical Prologue"

Madame, Monsieur, Seniors,
Why play performances
When the whole world is a theater
and we are all actors in it,
Isn't it, isn't it?

Madame, Monsieur, Seniors,
What a pity that in the general drama,
Talentless make-up artists, insidious prompters
We ourselves - we are with you!

Oh, how would we, senors,
Play not a farce, but a fairy tale,
About happiness and hopes to play until soon
Decoupling, decoupling...

Oh world, where instead of falling
Above us arches of rainbows,
Where the moon shines instead of lamps,
Where we are, we play weakly
Oh, how would we at least
Do not confuse role, role,
role, role, role,
Op-la-la.

Let the blond play blond
And never a brunette
And then we confuse everything as one
Black with white color.
And let the doctor play the doctor
And never - the executioner,
And then - a little constipation,
He grab the ax
And there is no stomach, even cry!

Let the crown crown the one
Who is really a lion
And his ears will begin to grow -
Lock it up right there in the barn.
Don't let the jackal play the sheep
A penny to climb into rubles,
But give the singer - and only the singer! -
Consider that he is the navel of the earth.

There you are, whose importance and fullness
Visible from afar
Come here to play the jester
Idiot, simpleton
And you are probably fate
Sent on the same day:
We have an empty role of the pillar,
And you are a healthy stump.

Hey hey, and your agility and become
And cunning and courage
Perfectly fit to play
Macbeth or Iago.
Hey seniors, come to us, hey seniors, come here to us!
And which of you is a hero, and which of you is a lackey,
And which of you is the hero-lackey we can easily point out,
And only you, beauties,
So charming, so appropriate in the role of gentle ladies,
How do you like it?
Oh how do you like it?
Oh how do you like it?
How do you like it?

Madame, Monsieur, Seniors,
How do you like it?

Monologue of Jacques

"The whole world is a theater, and the people in it are actors"

(Act II, scene VII)

The whole world is acting

The phrase "Totus mundus agit histrionem" (the whole world plays a comedy) adorned the building of the Globe Theater, for which Shakespeare wrote his plays.

How do you like it

P. Weinberg
T. Shchepkina-Kupernik (1937)
T. Shchepkina-Kupernik (1959)

Note:

Monologue of Jacques - Act II, scene 7
Presumably Shakespeare himself played the part of Adam.
In another translation - "As you wish"

Date of performances: 1599, 1600
Publication date: 1600, 1623

Monologue of Jacques

"The whole world is a theater, and the people in it are actors"

(Act II, scene VII)

The whole world is theater.
In it, women, men - all actors.
They have their own exits, departures,
And each one plays a role.
Seven actions in the play toy. First baby,
Roaring bitterly in the arms of the mother ...
Then whiny schoolboy with a book bag
With a ruddy face, reluctantly, a snail
Crawling to school. And then lover,
Sighing like an oven, with a sad ballad
In honor of the cute eyebrow. And then soldier,
Whose speech is always full of curses,
Bearded like a leopard
Jealous of honor, a bully in a quarrel,
Ready to seek mortal glory
At least in a cannonball. Then referee
With a rounded belly, where the capon is hidden,
With a stern look, a trimmed beard,
A storehouse of template rules and maxims, -
That's how he plays the part. The sixth age
It will be skinny pantalone,
In glasses, in shoes, at the belt - a purse,
In pants that from youth the shore, wide
For withered feet; courageous voice
It is replaced again by a childish treble:
It squeaks like a flute... And the last act,
The end of this whole strange, complicated play -
second childhood, semi-forgetfulness:
Without eyes, without feelings, without taste, without everything.

The whole world is theater.
There are women, men - all actors.
They have their own exits, departures,
And each one plays a role.
Seven actions in the play toy. Baby first
Roaring loudly in the arms of the mother ...
Then a whiny schoolboy with a bag of books,
With a ruddy face, reluctantly, a snail
Crawling to school. And then a lover
Sighing like an oven, with a sad ballad
In honor of the cute eyebrow. And then the soldier
Whose speech is always full of curses,
Bearded like a leopard
Jealous of honor, a bully in a quarrel,
Ready to seek mortal glory
At least in a cannonball. Then the judge
With a rounded belly, where the capon is hidden,
With a stern look, a trimmed beard,
Template rules and maxims are a storehouse,—
That's how he plays the part. The sixth age
It will be a skinny pantalone,
In glasses, in shoes, at the belt - a purse,
In pants that from youth the shore, wide
For withered feet; courageous voice
It is replaced again by a childish treble:
It squeaks like a flute... And the last act,
The end of this whole strange, complicated play -
Second childhood, half-forgetfulness:
Without eyes, without feelings, without taste, without everything.

W. Shakespeare
Monologue of Jacques from the comedy "As You Like It"

Theatre

Shakespeare said: "The whole world is a theater, and the people in it are actors!
Who is a rogue, who is a jester, and who is a simpleton, a sage or a hero.
Therefore, therefore, leave your disputes -
Look for your role in life, sculpt your image.

Our world is a hall! Our life is a stage
Where laughter and tears, grief and love are mixed
But, at least a hundred lives live at the same time,
Be and always be yourself.

Who is glorious, who is inglorious - sometimes we do not know,
Honor and money are handed out more and more at random.
The hypocritical demon confuses us with a devilish game,
He is in no hurry to change the picture and announce an intermission.

But sometimes, yes, sometimes - after all, everything happens in life! -
Someone will take over the stolen role.
The Lord, having found such, stigmatizes ... Fate undresses them,
And the people are convinced that the king was naked.

And every day and every day we wear masks
And looking in the mirror, sometimes we don't recognize ourselves...
Only at home, alone, we can safely
Ask: "What in this life are we playing or living?"

Yuri Evseev

The whole world is a theater, and the people in it are actors:
That's what William Shakespeare said
There are honest, however, there are thieves,
Everyone has their own idol.
Many roles, parts, intermissions,
Lots of different scenes
Many discoveries, many facts,
Lots of love, murder, betrayal.
All this is both in the theater and in life,
One soul is more capricious than another,
But they all play and live
They drink water from one cup.
Only one thought worries
Nobody writes us a script
Maybe this will help us
And we will write it ourselves.
Let's write how we want
As soon as the heart tells us
And of course we will win
Our heart will show us the right path.
We all die someday
Everything always comes to an end
Well, as long as we live
While we roam the wonder of the world.
Let's love, create, play.
We will leave a memory of ourselves,
People will remember us
They will write poems about us!

W. Shakespeare Monologue of Jacques from the comedy "As You Like It"

Theatre

W. Shakespeare
Monologue of Jacques from the comedy "As You Like It"