Original: Thou art a slave, whom Fortune’s tender arm
Modern: You’re nothing but a slave who Fortune never embraced with kindness.

Original: With favour never clasp’d; but bred a dog.
Modern: You were raised like a dog, never shown any favor.

Original: Hadst thou, like us from our first swath, proceeded
Modern: If you had been born into privilege like us from the very beginning,

Original: The sweet degrees that this brief world affords
Modern: And enjoyed the pleasant stages of advancement that life offers

Original: To such as may the passive drugs of it
Modern: To those who can treat the world like a drug

Original: Freely command, thou wouldst have plunged thyself
Modern: And control everything freely, you would have thrown yourself

Original: In general riot; melted down thy youth
Modern: Into complete wild living; you would have wasted your youth

Original: In different beds of lust; and never learn’d
Modern: Sleeping around with anyone; and you never would have learned

Original: The icy precepts of respect, but follow’d
Modern: The cold, hard rules of self-control, but instead would have chased

Original: The sugar’d game before thee. But myself,
Modern: Every sweet pleasure in front of you. But as for me,

Original: Who had the world as my confectionary,
Modern: Who had the world like it was my own candy shop,

Original: The mouths, the tongues, the eyes and hearts of men
Modern: The words, voices, attention, and love of people

Original: At duty, more than I could frame employment,
Modern: Serving me loyally—more followers than I could even put to work—

Original: That numberless upon me stuck as leaves
Modern: Who clung to me in countless numbers like leaves

Original: Do on the oak, hive with one winter’s brush
Modern: Stick to an oak tree, all shaken off with one winter’s blast

Original: Fell from their boughs and left me open, bare
Modern: Fell away and left me exposed, naked

Original: For every storm that blows: I, to bear this,
Modern: To face every hardship that comes: for me to endure this fall,

Original: That never knew but better, is some burden:
Modern: Having only known better times, is a real burden:

Original: Thy nature did commence in sufferance, time
Modern: But your life began in suffering, and time

Original: Hath made thee hard in’t. Why shouldst thou hate men?
Modern: Has made you tough because of it. So why should you hate people?

Original: They never flatter’d thee: what hast thou given?
Modern: They never lied to flatter you: what have you ever given them?

Original: If thou wilt curse, thy father, that poor rag,
Modern: If you’re going to curse anyone, curse your father, that worthless man,

Original: Must be thy subject, who in spite put stuff
Modern: He should be your target, who out of meanness had sex

Original: To some she beggar and compounded thee
Modern: With some female beggar and created you,

Original: Poor rogue hereditary. Hence, be gone!
Modern: A wretch by birth and blood. Now get out of here!

Original: If thou hadst not been born the worst of men,
Modern: If you hadn’t been born into the lowest class of humanity,

Original: Thou hadst been a knave and flatterer.
Modern: You would have become just another dishonest liar and kiss-up.

Timon of Athens tells the story of a wealthy Athenian nobleman whose excessive generosity leads to his downfall. In the first half of the play, Timon lavishes gifts, throws extravagant banquets, and freely lends money to anyone who asks, despite warnings from his loyal steward Flavius about his dwindling finances. Timon dismisses these concerns, believing his generosity will be repaid by the loyalty of his many friends. However, his creditors eventually come calling, and Timon discovers he has no money left to pay his debts.

When Timon’s financial ruin becomes apparent, he sends servants to ask his former friends and beneficiaries for loans to help him through his crisis. One by one, they all refuse him with various excuses - Lucilius claims his money is tied up in investments, Lucullus pretends not to be home, and Sempronius feels insulted that Timon didn’t ask him first. Faced with this universal rejection, Timon invites all his false friends to one final feast, where he serves them warm water and stones, then curses them and banishes himself from Athens.

Timon retreats to a cave in the wilderness outside Athens, where he becomes a misanthropic hermit, railing against humanity and civilization. While digging for roots to eat, he discovers gold in the earth. Various visitors come to see him in his exile, including the loyal Flavius, the philosopher Apemantus (who had always criticized Timon’s generosity), thieves seeking the gold, and the exiled general Alcibiades who is marching against Athens. Timon gives away the gold freely but refuses all attempts at reconciliation or friendship. The play ends with news of Timon’s death reaching Athens, where Alcibiades has successfully taken the city and promises to restore order and justice.