Enter Amphridote and Mazeres.
Amp. My Lord, what is the matter?
Maz. I know not what;
The King sent.
Amp. Well, we obey.
Maz. Here comes his Highnesse. Enter Tyrant.
Tyr. How now what's she?
Amp. I my Lord?
Your Highnesse knew me once, your most obedient Daughter:
Tyr. They lye that tell me so, this is not she.
Amp. No, my Lord?
Tyr. No, for as thou art I know thee not,
And I shall strive still to forget thee more;
Thou neither bearst in memory my respects
Nor thy owne worthes; how can we thinke of thee
But as of a dejected worthlesse creature?
So farre beneath our grace and thy owne luster, that we dis-
daine to know thee.
Was there no choyse mong our selected Nobles
To make thy favorite besides Tymethes?
Sonne to our enemie, a wretch, a Begger?
Dead to all fortunes, honours, or their hopes,
Besides his breath, worth nothing; abject wretch,
To place thy affection so vigorously
On him can nere requite it; deny't not,
We know the favours thou hast given him,
Pledges of love, close letters, private meetings,
And whisperings are customary twixt you.
Come, which be his gifts? whereabout lye his pledges?
Amp. Your Grace hath beene injuriously inform'd,
I nere receiv'd pledge.
Tyr. Impudent creature, (best honours When in our sight and hearing shamefully undervaluing thy And