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Modern English
And late, five thousand: to Varro and to Isidore He owes nine thousand; besides my former sum, Which makes it five and twenty. Still in motion Of raging waste? It cannot hold; it will not. If I want gold, steal but a beggar’s dog, And give it Timon, why, the dog coins gold. If I would sell my horse, and buy twenty more Better than he, why, give my horse to Timon, Ask nothing, give it him, it foals me, straight, And able horses. No porter at his gate, But rather one that smiles and still invites All that pass by. It cannot hold: no reason Can found his state in safety. Caphis, ho! Caphis, I say!
And recently, five thousand: to Varro and Isidore He owes nine thousand; besides the money I lent him, Which adds up to twenty-five. Still wasting money? This can’t last; it just won’t. If I need gold, I could steal a beggar’s dog, And give it to Timon, and that dog would turn to gold. If I sold my horse and bought twenty better ones, And gave my horse to Timon, without asking anything, It would immediately produce foals, and those would be strong horses. No servant at his door, But someone who smiles and welcomes everyone Who passes by. This can’t last: no logic Can keep him safe. Caphis, ho! Caphis, I say!
Here, sir; what is your pleasure?
Here, sir; what do you need?
Get on your cloak, and haste you to Lord Timon; Importune him for my moneys; be not ceased With slight denial, nor then silenced when-- ’Commend me to your master’--and the cap Plays in the right hand, thus: but tell him, My uses cry to me, I must serve my turn Out of mine own; his days and times are past And my reliances on his fracted dates Have smit my credit: I love and honour him, But must not break my back to heal his finger; Immediate are my needs, and my relief Must not be toss’d and turn’d to me in words, But find supply immediate. Get you gone: Put on a most importunate aspect, A visage of demand; for, I do fear, When every feather sticks in his own wing, Lord Timon will be left a naked gull, Which flashes now a phoenix. Get you gone.
Put on your cloak, and rush to Lord Timon; Press him for my money; don’t be stopped By a simple refusal, nor silenced when-- ’Give my regards to your master’--and a cap Played with in the right hand, like this: but tell him, I need my money; I can’t wait for his charity Anymore; his time has passed And my reliance on his broken promises Has ruined my credit: I love and respect him, But I can’t exhaust myself for his small needs; My needs are urgent, and I must get help Immediately, not just hear empty words. Go now: Put on a serious face, A look of demand; for I fear, When everyone looks after their own interests, Lord Timon will be left with nothing, like a gull Who now appears like a phoenix. Go now.
I go, sir.
I’m going, sir.
’I go, sir!’--Take the bonds along with you, And have the dates in contempt.
’I’m going, sir!’--Take the bonds with you, And ignore the dates.
I will, sir.
I will, sir.
Go.
Go.