Enter Lord Timon, addressing himselfe curteously to euery Sutor.
Tim. Imprison'd is he, say you?
Mes. I my good Lord, fiue Talents is his debt,
His meanes most short, his Creditors most straite:
Your Honourable Letter he desires
To those haue shut him vp, which failing,
Periods his comfort
Tim. Noble Ventidius, well:
I am not of that Feather, to shake off
My Friend when he must neede me. I do know him
A Gentleman, that well deserues a helpe,
Which he shall haue. Ile pay the debt, and free him
Mes. Your Lordship euer bindes him
Tim. Commend me to him, I will send his ransome,
And being enfranchized bid him come to me;
'Tis not enough to helpe the Feeble vp,
But to support him after. Fare you well
Mes. All happinesse to your Honor.
Enter.
Enter an old Athenian.
Oldm. Lord Timon, heare me speake
Tim. Freely good Father
Oldm. Thou hast a Seruant nam'd Lucilius