The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (1042 page)

with infection! Take twin brothers from the same womb,

whose conception, gestation and birth

were almost simultaneous–test them with several fortunes,

the greater will drive out the lesser. Human nature,

which is constantly under siege from infection, can't bear great fortune,

except by going against itself.

Raise up this beggar, and deny fortune to that lord,

the senators shall learn what it is to be looked down on,

the beggar what it is to be exalted.

Having pasture is what makes a brother fat,

lack of it makes him thin. Who is there who dares

to stand up as an honest man

and say, ‘This man is a flatterer?’ If one is,

they all are, for every step of fortune

is smoothed by what's below: the learned man

bows his head to the rich fool; everything is immoral;

there's nothing straight in our cursed natures

apart from open villainy. So, despise all

feasts, gatherings, and crowds of men!

Timon rejects anything that resembles himself.

May destruction  gnaw mankind! Earth, give me your roots.

Anyone who wants better from you, give him a taste

of your most powerful poison. What is this?

Gold? Yellow, glittering, precious gold?

No, gods, I didn't make my vow idly.

Give me roots, you pure heavens! This amount of wealth will make

black white; foul fair; wrong right;

low noble; old young; cowards brave.

Ha, you gods! Why this? What is this, you gods? Why, this

will drag your priests and servants away from you,

and drive strong men to their deaths.

This yellow slave

can make or break religions, bless the cursed,

make the filthy leprosy loved, raise thieves up

and give them titles, respect and equality

with the senators on the bench. This is the thing

which makes the weary widow marry again:

the one whom hospital patients and ulcerous sores

would vomit just to look at, having this makes her look

in the prime of youth again. Come, dammed earth,

you shared whore of mankind, that sets

the nations fighting each other, I will make you

do what you always do.

Ha? The drum? You are swift,

but I'll still bury you. You will keep going, you strong thief,

when the gout ridden keepers of you can no longer stand.

No, you stay out here to be used as a deposit. [Keeping some gold]

Enter ALCIBIADES, with drum and fife, in warlike manner; PHRYNIA and TIMANDRA

ALCIBIADES

What art thou there? speak.

Who's that there? Speak.

TIMON

A beast, as thou art. The canker gnaw thy heart,

For showing me again the eyes of man!

An animal, the same as you. Make cancer chew your heart,

for making me look at a man again!

ALCIBIADES

What is thy name? Is man so hateful to thee,

That art thyself a man?

What is your name? Is mankind so abhorrent to you,

who is a man yourself?

TIMON

I am Misanthropos, and hate mankind.

For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog,

That I might love thee something.

I am Misanthrope, and I hate mankind.

As to you, I wish you were a dog,

so I could love you a little.

ALCIBIADES

I know thee well;

But in thy fortunes am unlearn'd and strange.

I know you well;

but I'm unaware of what has happened to you.

TIMON

I know thee too; and more than that I know thee,

I not desire to know. Follow thy drum;

With man's blood paint the ground, gules, gules:

Religious canons, civil laws are cruel;

Then what should war be? This fell whore of thine

Hath in her more destruction than thy sword,

For all her cherubim look.

I know you too; and more than the fact that I know you,

I don't wish to know. Follow your drums;

paint the ground red with the blood of men:

religious rules, civil laws are cruel;

so what should war be? This evil whore of yours

has more powers of destruction than your sword,

for all her sweet looks.

PHRYNIA

Thy lips rot off!

May your lips rot and fall off!

TIMON

I will not kiss thee; then the rot returns

To thine own lips again.

I won't kiss you; that way the rot stays

on your own lips where it belongs.

ALCIBIADES

How came the noble Timon to this change?

What happened to make the noble Timon change like this?

TIMON

As the moon does, by wanting light to give:

But then renew I could not, like the moon;

There were no suns to borrow of.

In the same way as happens to the moon, when he has no light to give:

but then I couldn't be renewed, like the moon;

there were no suns to borrow from.

ALCIBIADES

Noble Timon,

What friendship may I do thee?

Noble Timon,

is there anything I can do for you?

TIMON

None, but to

Maintain my opinion.

Nothing, except help me

keep my opinion of mankind.

ALCIBIADES

What is it, Timon?

How will I do that, Timon?

TIMON

Promise me friendship, but perform none: if thou

wilt not promise, the gods plague thee, for thou art

a man! if thou dost perform, confound thee, for

thou art a man!

Promise me friendship, but don't do anything about it: if you

won't promise, may the gods attack you, for being

a man! If you do keep your promise, you'll still be damned,

because you are a man!

ALCIBIADES

I have heard in some sort of thy miseries.

I have heard something about your misfortunes.

TIMON

Thou saw'st them, when I had prosperity.

You saw them, when I was rich.

ALCIBIADES

I see them now; then was a blessed time.

I can see them now; you were blessed back then.

TIMON

As thine is now, held with a brace of harlots.

As you are now, tied up with a pair of tarts.

TIMANDRA

Is this the Athenian minion, whom the world

Voiced so regardfully?

Is this the favourite of Athens, whom everyone used to

speak so well of?

TIMON

Art thou Timandra?

Are you Timandra?

TIMANDRA

Yes.

Yes.

TIMON

Be a whore still: they love thee not that use thee;

Give them diseases, leaving with thee their lust.

Make use of thy salt hours: season the slaves

For tubs and baths; bring down rose-cheeked youth

To the tub-fast and the diet.

Carry on being a whore: those who use you do not love you;

take their lust away and give them diseases.

Make use of the time that you're in season: get the slaves

ready for the cure for the clap; reduced the rosy cheeked youth

to the sweating baths and the curing diet.

TIMANDRA

Hang thee, monster!

Hang you, monster!

ALCIBIADES

Pardon him, sweet Timandra; for his wits

Are drown'd and lost in his calamities.

I have but little gold of late, brave Timon,

The want whereof doth daily make revolt

In my penurious band: I have heard, and grieved,

How cursed Athens, mindless of thy worth,

Forgetting thy great deeds, when neighbour states,

But for thy sword and fortune, trod upon them,--

Excuse him, sweet Timandra; his wits

have been drowned and lost in his misfortunes.

I haven't much money at the moment, brave Timon,

the lack of which causes mutiny daily

in my poverty stricken band: I have heard, and been sorry for,

the way cursed Athens, disregarding your worth,

forgetting your great deeds, when neighbouring states

would have trodden on them without your sword and wealth–

TIMON

I prithee, beat thy drum, and get thee gone.

Please, beat your drum and go.

ALCIBIADES

I am thy friend, and pity thee, dear Timon.

I am your friend, and pity you, dear Timon.

TIMON

How dost thou pity him whom thou dost trouble?

I had rather be alone.

If you pity someone why are you bothering him?

I would rather be alone.

ALCIBIADES

Why, fare thee well:

Here is some gold for thee.

Well, farewell then:

here is some gold for you.

TIMON

Keep it, I cannot eat it.

Keep it, I can't eat it.

ALCIBIADES

When I have laid proud Athens on a heap,--

When I have beaten proud Athens to the ground–

TIMON

Warr'st thou 'gainst Athens?

Are you going to war against Athens?

ALCIBIADES

Ay, Timon, and have cause.

Yes, Timon, and I have good reason.

TIMON

The gods confound them all in thy conquest;

And thee after, when thou hast conquer'd!

May the gods defeat them all in your conquest;

and you after that, when you have won!

ALCIBIADES

Why me, Timon?

Why me, Timon?

TIMON

That, by killing of villains,

Thou wast born to conquer my country.

Put up thy gold: go on,--here's gold,--go on;

Be as a planetary plague, when Jove

Will o'er some high-viced city hang his poison

In the sick air: let not thy sword skip one:

Pity not honour'd age for his white beard;

He is an usurer: strike me the counterfeit matron;

It is her habit only that is honest,

Herself's a bawd: let not the virgin's cheek

Make soft thy trenchant sword; for those milk-paps,

That through the window-bars bore at men's eyes,

Are not within the leaf of pity writ,

But set them down horrible traitors: spare not the babe,

Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their mercy;

Think it a bastard, whom the oracle

Hath doubtfully pronounced thy throat shall cut,