Μισάνθρωπος Τίμων.

Timon the misanthrope

Oderat hic cunctos, nec se, nec amabat amicos,
Μισῶν ἀνθρώπους nomina digna gerens.
Hoc vitium, & morbus de bili nascitur atra,
Anxiat haec, curas suppeditatque graves.
Quapropter cecidisse piro, fregisseque crura
Fertur, & auxilium non petiisse malo.
Suavibus à sociis, & consuetudine dulci
Qui se subducunt, vulnera saeva ferunt.
Conditio haec misera est, tristes suspiria ducunt,
Cumque nihil causae est, occubuisse velint.
  Link to an image of this page  [H8r p127]At tu dum poteris, noto sociere sodali,
Sublevet ut pressum, corque dolore vacet.
Quos nulla attingunt prorsus commercia, grato
Atque sodalitio, subsidiisque carent:
Aut Dii sunt proprii, aut falsus pervertit inanes
Sensus, ut hos stolidos, vanaque corda putes.
Tu verò tandem nobis dialectica sponte
Donata, in lucem mittito, si memores.

He hated everyone, and loved neither himself, nor his friends, bearing the worthy names of Men-hater. This vice and illness originates from black bile. This creates distress, and supplies serious worries. For this reason, he is said to have fallen out of a pear tree, to have broken his legs, and not to have asked any help for his injury. Those who withdraw themselves from their pleasant friends and from sweet company, bear severe wounds. This is a wretched state, they heave sad sighs, and while there is no reason for it, they wish to be dead. You, however, as long as you can, associate yourself with an intimate companion, so that he alleviates the pressure, and the heart is free of sadness. Those who engage in no conversation whatsoever, and are without pleasant friendship and supporting contacts are either their own gods, or a false perception corrupts the empty persons, so that you can consider them stupid and their hearts hollow. You, however, please publish your work on dialectics, which you once gave me of your own accord, if you remember.