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

by William Shakespeare

  one friend to share with him

  in his misfortunes!

  Second Servant

  As we do turn our backs

  From our companion thrown into his grave,

  So his familiars to his buried fortunes

  Slink all away, leave their false vows with him,

  Like empty purses pick'd; and his poor self,

  A dedicated beggar to the air,

  With his disease of all-shunn'd poverty,

  Walks, like contempt, alone. More of our fellows.

  As we turn away

  from the grave of a friend,

  so those who loved him when he was rich

  sneak away, leaving him their false promises,

  like purses that have been robbed; and his poor self,

  a homeless beggar,

  with his disease of hated poverty,

  walks alone, as if he were hatred itself.

  Here are more of our colleagues.

  Enter other Servants

  FLAVIUS

  All broken implements of a ruin'd house.

  All the broken fittings of a ruined house.

  Third Servant

  Yet do our hearts wear Timon's livery;

  That see I by our faces; we are fellows still,

  Serving alike in sorrow: leak'd is our bark,

  And we, poor mates, stand on the dying deck,

  Hearing the surges threat: we must all part

  Into this sea of air.

  But in our hearts we are still Timon's servants;

  I can see that in our faces; we are still colleagues,

  all serving with the same sorrow; our ship is holed,

  and we, poor sailors, stand on the doomed deck,

  hearing the waves crash: we must all leave

  and wander the world.

  FLAVIUS

  Good fellows all,

  The latest of my wealth I'll share amongst you.

  Wherever we shall meet, for Timon's sake,

  Let's yet be fellows; let's shake our heads, and say,

  As 'twere a knell unto our master's fortunes,

  'We have seen better days.' Let each take some;

  Nay, put out all your hands. Not one word more:

  Thus part we rich in sorrow, parting poor.

  Servants embrace, and part several ways

  O, the fierce wretchedness that glory brings us!

  Who would not wish to be from wealth exempt,

  Since riches point to misery and contempt?

  Who would be so mock'd with glory? or to live

  But in a dream of friendship?

  To have his pomp and all what state compounds

  But only painted, like his varnish'd friends?

  Poor honest lord, brought low by his own heart,

  Undone by goodness! Strange, unusual blood,

  When man's worst sin is, he does too much good!

  Who, then, dares to be half so kind again?

  For bounty, that makes gods, does still mar men.

  My dearest lord, bless'd, to be most accursed,

  Rich, only to be wretched, thy great fortunes

  Are made thy chief afflictions. Alas, kind lord!

  He's flung in rage from this ingrateful seat

  Of monstrous friends, nor has he with him to

  Supply his life, or that which can command it.

  I'll follow and inquire him out:

  I'll ever serve his mind with my best will;

  Whilst I have gold, I'll be his steward still.

  Exit

  You good men,

  I'll share the last of my wealth with you.

  Wherever we may meet, for Timon's sake,

  let's still be friends; let's shake our heads and say,

  as if we were the funeral bell for our master's fortunes,

  'We have seen better days.' Everyone take some;

  all of you put out your hands. Don't say another word:

  so we part, poor but rich in sorrow.

  Oh, what excessive wretchedness success brings us!

  Who wouldn't want to avoid being rich,

  since riches lead to misery and contempt?

  Who wants to be mocked by success? Or to live

  with just the illusion of friendship?

  To have all his glory and position just

  a fake, like his deceitful friends?

  Poor good lord, brought down by his own heart,

  ruined by goodness! How strange human nature is,

  when the worst sin a man does is doing too much good!

  Who will ever dare to be half as generous again?

  Generosity, which makes the gods, destroys men.

  My dearest lord, your blessings were a curse,

  your riches only made you poor, your great fortune

  has become your greatest burden. Alas, kind lord!

  He's been thrown out in rage from this ungrateful place

  of appalling friends, and he hasn't got the necessities

  of life, or the means to get them.

  I'll follow and find where he is:

  I'll always do my best to serve him;

  while I still have money, I'll still take care of him.

  Enter TIMON, from the cave

  O blessed breeding sun, draw from the earth

  Rotten humidity; below thy sister's orb

  Infect the air! Twinn'd brothers of one womb,

  Whose procreation, residence, and birth,

  Scarce is dividant, touch them with several fortunes;

  The greater scorns the lesser: not nature,

  To whom all sores lay siege, can bear great fortune,

  But by contempt of nature.

  Raise me this beggar, and deny 't that lord;

  The senator shall bear contempt hereditary,

  The beggar native honour.

  It is the pasture lards the rother's sides,

  The want that makes him lean. Who dares, who dares,

  In purity of manhood stand upright,

  And say 'This man's a flatterer?' if one be,

  So are they all; for every grise of fortune

  Is smooth'd by that below: the learned pate

  Ducks to the golden fool: all is oblique;

  There's nothing level in our cursed natures,

  But direct villany. Therefore, be abhorr'd

  All feasts, societies, and throngs of men!

  His semblable, yea, himself, Timon disdains:

  Destruction fang mankind! Earth, yield me roots!

  Digging

  Who seeks for better of thee, sauce his palate

  With thy most operant poison! What is here?

  Gold? yellow, glittering, precious gold? No, gods,

  I am no idle votarist: roots, you clear heavens!

  Thus much of this will make black white, foul fair,

  Wrong right, base noble, old young, coward valiant.

  Ha, you gods! why this? what this, you gods? Why, this

  Will lug your priests and servants from your sides,

  Pluck stout men's pillows from below their heads:

  This yellow slave

  Will knit and break religions, bless the accursed,

  Make the hoar leprosy adored, place thieves

  And give them title, knee and approbation

  With senators on the bench: this is it

  That makes the wappen'd widow wed again;

  She, whom the spital-house and ulcerous sores

  Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and spices

  To the April day again. Come, damned earth,

  Thou common whore of mankind, that put'st odds

  Among the route of nations, I will make thee

  Do thy right nature.

  March afar off

  Ha! a drum ? Thou'rt quick,

  But yet I'll bury thee: thou'lt go, strong thief,

  When gouty keepers of thee cannot stand.

  Nay, stay thou out for earnest.

  Keeping some gold

>   O blessed fertile sun, draw rotting humidity

  out of the earth; destroy the land beneath the moon

  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 sla
ves

  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.