Original: A beastly ambition, which the gods grant thee t’ attain to!
Modern: What an animal-like ambition—I hope the gods let you achieve it!

Original: If thou wert the lion, the fox would beguile thee;
Modern: If you were the lion, the fox would trick you;

Original: if thou wert the lamb, the fox would eat three:
Modern: if you were the lamb, the fox would eat you:

Original: if thou wert the fox, the lion would suspect thee, when peradventure thou wert accused by the ass:
Modern: if you were the fox, the lion would distrust you, especially when perhaps you were accused by the donkey:

Original: if thou wert the ass, thy dulness would torment thee, and still thou livedst but as a breakfast to the wolf:
Modern: if you were the donkey, your stupidity would torture you, and you’d still only live long enough to be the wolf’s breakfast:

Original: if thou wert the wolf, thy greediness would afflict thee, and oft thou shouldst hazard thy life for thy dinner:
Modern: if you were the wolf, your greed would cause you suffering, and you’d often risk your life just to get a meal:

Original: wert thou the unicorn, pride and wrath would confound thee and make thine own self the conquest of thy fury:
Modern: if you were the unicorn, pride and rage would destroy you and make you the victim of your own anger:

Original: wert thou a bear, thou wouldst be killed by the horse:
Modern: if you were a bear, you’d be killed by the horse:

Original: wert thou a horse, thou wouldst be seized by the leopard:
Modern: if you were a horse, you’d be captured by the leopard:

Original: wert thou a leopard, thou wert german to the lion and the spots of thy kindred were jurors on thy life:
Modern: if you were a leopard, you’d be related to the lion and your family connections would judge whether you live or die:

Original: all thy safety were remotion and thy defence absence.
Modern: your only safety would be staying far away and your only defense would be to not be there at all.

Original: What beast couldst thou be, that were not subject to a beast?
Modern: What animal could you possibly be that wouldn’t be under the power of another animal?

Original: and what a beast art thou already, that seest not thy loss in transformation!
Modern: and what kind of beast are you already, that you can’t see you’d lose by changing into any of them!

In Act IV, Scene iii of Timon of Athens, beginning around line 335, Timon is in the woods outside Athens when he is visited by Flavius, his former faithful steward. Flavius has sought out his old master, distressed by Timon’s fall from wealth and status, and arrives weeping and carrying some of his own money, which he intends to give to Timon. When Timon first sees him, he initially attempts to dismiss Flavius as he has dismissed all other visitors, maintaining his bitter contempt for all of humanity. However, Flavius’s genuine grief and loyalty give Timon momentary pause, and he struggles to reconcile his blanket hatred of mankind with the evident sincerity of the man standing before him.

Timon is forced to acknowledge that Flavius represents something that disrupts his wholesale condemnation of the human race — an honest and loyal man who seeks nothing from him but to offer comfort and assistance. Timon accepts this reluctantly, conceding that Flavius is one honest man among a corrupt world, though he frames even this admission within his deeply pessimistic worldview. He takes some of the gold he has discovered buried in the earth and gives it to Flavius, instructing him to use it for himself alone and to avoid the company of other people. Timon sends Flavius away, and as the steward departs, Timon returns to his isolated and misanthropic existence in the wilderness.

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.