TIMON OF ATHENS MODERN ENGLISH
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If you have struggled in the past reading Shakespeare, then BookCaps can help you out. This book is a modern translation of Timon of Athens.
The original text is also presented in the book, along with a comparable version of both text.
If you have struggled in the past reading Shakespeare, then BookCaps can help you out. This book is a modern translation of Timon of Athens.
The original text is also presented in the book, along with a comparable version of both text.
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Excerpt FROM TIMON OF ATHENS IN PLAIN AND SIMPLE ENGLISH
SCENE I. Athens. A hall in Timon's house. Enter Poet, Painter, Jeweller, Merchant, and others, at several doors
Poet
Good day, sir.
Good day, sir.
Painter
I am glad you're well.
I’m glad you’re well.
Poet
I have not seen you long: how goes the world?
I haven’t seen you for a long time: how’s life?
Painter
It wears, sir, as it grows.
It wears out sir, as it goes on.
Poet
Ay, that's well known:
But what particular rarity? what strange,
Which manifold record not matches? See,
Magic of bounty! all these spirits thy power
Hath conjured to attend. I know the merchant.
Yes, that’s well known:
But what particular unusual things are going on?
What unique things, never recorded before?
Look, generosity is as powerful as any magician!
Your power has brought all these people here. I know that merchant.
Painter
I know them both; th' other's a jeweller.
I know both of them, the other’s a jeweller.
Merchant
O, 'tis a worthy lord.
Oh, that’s a good lord.
Jeweller
Nay, that's most fix'd.
That’s for sure.
Merchant
A most incomparable man, breathed, as it were,
To an untirable and continuate goodness:
He passes.
An incomparable man, trained, as it were,
To have an unflagging and habitual goodness;
He beats everyone.
Jeweller
I have a jewel here--
I have a jewel here-
Merchant
O, pray, let's see't: for the Lord Timon, sir?
Oh, please let me see it. Is this for Lord Timon, sir?
Jeweller
If he will touch the estimate: but, for that--
If he’ll pay the price I want: but, as to that-
Poet
[Reciting to himself] 'When we for recompense have
praised the vile,
It stains the glory in that happy verse
Which aptly sings the good.'
‘When we praise the vile in return for payment,
it cheapens the value of the fine verse
which rightly praises the good.’
Merchant
'Tis a good form.
It’s nicely cut.
Looking at the jewel
Jeweller
And rich: here is a water, look ye.
And rich: it’s got a great shine to it, you can see.
Painter
You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedication
To the great lord.
You are involved, sir, in some work, something
In praise of the great lord.
Poet
A thing slipp'd idly from me.
Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes
From whence 'tis nourish'd: the fire i' the flint
Shows not till it be struck; our gentle flame
Provokes itself and like the current flies
Each bound it chafes. What have you there?
Something that just slipped out.
Poetry is like gum, which oozes
Out from its mother plant: the fire held
Within flint doesn’t show until it’s struck;
Our inspiration doesn’t need any stimulus;
It starts itself and spreads everywhere like
A tide. What have you there?
Painter
A picture, sir. When comes your book forth?
A picture, sir. When’s your book out?
Poet
Upon the heels of my presentment, sir.
Let's see your piece.
As soon as I give it to my lord, sir.
Let’s see your piece.
Painter
'Tis a good piece.
It’s a good piece.
Poet
So 'tis: this comes off well and excellent.
Yes it is: this is very well executed.
Painter
Indifferent.
Not bad.
Poet
Admirable: how this grace
Speaks his own standing! what a mental power
This eye shoots forth! how big imagination
Moves in this lip! to the dumbness of the gesture
One might interpret.
It’s wonderful: how well you’ve captured
His position! How well you can see his thoughts
In his eyes! How well his imagination can be seen
In his lips! One could almost interpret what
His gestures mean.
Painter
It is a pretty mocking of the life.
Here is a touch; is't good?
It’s a nice copy of life.
Here’s the question; is it good?
Poet
I will say of it,
It tutors nature: artificial strife
Lives in these touches, livelier than life.
I would say
It teaches nature: artificial action
Comes alive in the brushstrokes, it’s more lively than life itself.
Enter certain Senators, and pass over
Painter
How this lord is follow'd!
How many followers this lord has!
Poet
The senators of Athens: happy men!
The senators of Athens: lucky men!
Painter
Look, more!
Look, more!
Poet
You see this confluence, this great flood
of visitors.
I have, in this rough work, shaped out a man,
Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug
With amplest entertainment: my free drift
Halts not particularly, but moves itself
In a wide sea of wax: no levell'd malice
Infects one comma in the course I hold;
But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on,
Leaving no tract behind.
You see this merging of these great floods
of visitors.
I have, in this rough work, described a man,
Whom this mortal world embraces and hugs
With the warmest welcome: my free ideas
Don’t stop for particulars, but flow across
My wax tablet: there’s not a
Jot of malice in anything I write;
It flies like an eagle, boldly going forward,
Leaving no trace behind.
Painter
How shall I understand you?
What do you mean?
Poet
I will unbolt to you.
You see how all conditions, how all minds,
As well of glib and slippery creatures as
Of grave and austere quality, tender down
Their services to Lord Timon: his large fortune
Upon his good and gracious nature hanging
Subdues and properties to his love and tendance
All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-faced flatterer
To Apemantus, that few things loves better
Than to abhor himself: even he drops down
The knee before him, and returns in peace
Most rich in Timon's nod.
I’ll explain.
You see how all classes, all minds,
Shallow and dubious characters as well
As those of serious and fine quality, offer
Their services to Lord Timon: his great wealth
Combined with his good and kind nature
Draws the love and attendance of all sorts
Of people to him; from the vain flatterer
To Apemantus, who has no love for mankind,
Not even himself-even he kneels before him,
And goes home happy to have been acknowledged by Timon.
Poet
Good day, sir.
Good day, sir.
Painter
I am glad you're well.
I’m glad you’re well.
Poet
I have not seen you long: how goes the world?
I haven’t seen you for a long time: how’s life?
Painter
It wears, sir, as it grows.
It wears out sir, as it goes on.
Poet
Ay, that's well known:
But what particular rarity? what strange,
Which manifold record not matches? See,
Magic of bounty! all these spirits thy power
Hath conjured to attend. I know the merchant.
Yes, that’s well known:
But what particular unusual things are going on?
What unique things, never recorded before?
Look, generosity is as powerful as any magician!
Your power has brought all these people here. I know that merchant.
Painter
I know them both; th' other's a jeweller.
I know both of them, the other’s a jeweller.
Merchant
O, 'tis a worthy lord.
Oh, that’s a good lord.
Jeweller
Nay, that's most fix'd.
That’s for sure.
Merchant
A most incomparable man, breathed, as it were,
To an untirable and continuate goodness:
He passes.
An incomparable man, trained, as it were,
To have an unflagging and habitual goodness;
He beats everyone.
Jeweller
I have a jewel here--
I have a jewel here-
Merchant
O, pray, let's see't: for the Lord Timon, sir?
Oh, please let me see it. Is this for Lord Timon, sir?
Jeweller
If he will touch the estimate: but, for that--
If he’ll pay the price I want: but, as to that-
Poet
[Reciting to himself] 'When we for recompense have
praised the vile,
It stains the glory in that happy verse
Which aptly sings the good.'
‘When we praise the vile in return for payment,
it cheapens the value of the fine verse
which rightly praises the good.’
Merchant
'Tis a good form.
It’s nicely cut.
Looking at the jewel
Jeweller
And rich: here is a water, look ye.
And rich: it’s got a great shine to it, you can see.
Painter
You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedication
To the great lord.
You are involved, sir, in some work, something
In praise of the great lord.
Poet
A thing slipp'd idly from me.
Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes
From whence 'tis nourish'd: the fire i' the flint
Shows not till it be struck; our gentle flame
Provokes itself and like the current flies
Each bound it chafes. What have you there?
Something that just slipped out.
Poetry is like gum, which oozes
Out from its mother plant: the fire held
Within flint doesn’t show until it’s struck;
Our inspiration doesn’t need any stimulus;
It starts itself and spreads everywhere like
A tide. What have you there?
Painter
A picture, sir. When comes your book forth?
A picture, sir. When’s your book out?
Poet
Upon the heels of my presentment, sir.
Let's see your piece.
As soon as I give it to my lord, sir.
Let’s see your piece.
Painter
'Tis a good piece.
It’s a good piece.
Poet
So 'tis: this comes off well and excellent.
Yes it is: this is very well executed.
Painter
Indifferent.
Not bad.
Poet
Admirable: how this grace
Speaks his own standing! what a mental power
This eye shoots forth! how big imagination
Moves in this lip! to the dumbness of the gesture
One might interpret.
It’s wonderful: how well you’ve captured
His position! How well you can see his thoughts
In his eyes! How well his imagination can be seen
In his lips! One could almost interpret what
His gestures mean.
Painter
It is a pretty mocking of the life.
Here is a touch; is't good?
It’s a nice copy of life.
Here’s the question; is it good?
Poet
I will say of it,
It tutors nature: artificial strife
Lives in these touches, livelier than life.
I would say
It teaches nature: artificial action
Comes alive in the brushstrokes, it’s more lively than life itself.
Enter certain Senators, and pass over
Painter
How this lord is follow'd!
How many followers this lord has!
Poet
The senators of Athens: happy men!
The senators of Athens: lucky men!
Painter
Look, more!
Look, more!
Poet
You see this confluence, this great flood
of visitors.
I have, in this rough work, shaped out a man,
Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug
With amplest entertainment: my free drift
Halts not particularly, but moves itself
In a wide sea of wax: no levell'd malice
Infects one comma in the course I hold;
But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on,
Leaving no tract behind.
You see this merging of these great floods
of visitors.
I have, in this rough work, described a man,
Whom this mortal world embraces and hugs
With the warmest welcome: my free ideas
Don’t stop for particulars, but flow across
My wax tablet: there’s not a
Jot of malice in anything I write;
It flies like an eagle, boldly going forward,
Leaving no trace behind.
Painter
How shall I understand you?
What do you mean?
Poet
I will unbolt to you.
You see how all conditions, how all minds,
As well of glib and slippery creatures as
Of grave and austere quality, tender down
Their services to Lord Timon: his large fortune
Upon his good and gracious nature hanging
Subdues and properties to his love and tendance
All sorts of hearts; yea, from the glass-faced flatterer
To Apemantus, that few things loves better
Than to abhor himself: even he drops down
The knee before him, and returns in peace
Most rich in Timon's nod.
I’ll explain.
You see how all classes, all minds,
Shallow and dubious characters as well
As those of serious and fine quality, offer
Their services to Lord Timon: his great wealth
Combined with his good and kind nature
Draws the love and attendance of all sorts
Of people to him; from the vain flatterer
To Apemantus, who has no love for mankind,
Not even himself-even he kneels before him,
And goes home happy to have been acknowledged by Timon.
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