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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? Therefore, be abhorr'd All feasts, societies, and throngs of men! His semblable, yea, himself, Timon disdains: Destruction fang mankind! Earth, yield me roots! Oh generous sun, suck all of this rotten dampness from the ground into the air below the moon! In the case of twin brothers , who were identically conceived, housed, and born out of the same womb into a world with different fortunes, it is the one with more who scorns the one with less.
Human nature is subject to many evils, and cannot bear great riches without reserving contempt for those without such luxuries. I will become a beggar and restrain the lord within me, for the senator will be scorned, the beggar honored.
Whether or not one is wealthy is only a matter of luck: if an ox is born into abundant pastures, he will grow fat, whereas if he is born into scarcity, he will grow thin. Who will dare to stand up for what's right and call a man a flatterer? After all, if one man is a flatterer, so is everyone, because every level in a hierarchy is flattered by the one below it.
Smart men bow to rich fools. Everything is ridiculous, because we have nothing rational within our nature, just straight villainy. Thus I hate all feasts, society, and groups of people! Timon hates anything that resembles—or is—himself. All men go to hell! Earth, where are your roots? Who seeks for better of thee, sauce his palate With thy most operant poison!