“ This is it, Adam, that grieves me.”

besides that t
besides that they are fair with their feeding,
they are taught their manage, and to that
end riders dearly hired; but I, his brother,
gain nothing under him but growth; for
the which his animals on his dunghills are
as much bound to him as I. Besides this
nothing that he so plentifully gives me, the
something that nature gave me his counte-
nance seems to take from me: he lets me
feed with his hinds, bars me the place of
a brother, and, as much as in him lies,
mines my gentility with my education.
This is it, Adam, that grieves me; and the
spirit of my father, which I think is within
me, begins to mutiny against this servitude:
I will no longer endure it, though yet I
know no wise remedy how to avoid it.
Adam. Yonder comes my master, your
brother.

Orlando. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt
hear how he will shake me up.

Enter OLIVER.

Oliver. Now, sir! what make you here? Orlando. Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing.

Oliver. What mar you then, sir?

Orlando. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar that which God made, a poor unworthy brother of yours, with idleness. Oliver. Marry, sir, be better employed, and be naught awhile.

Orlando. Shall I keep your hogs and eat husks with them? What prodigal portion

have I spent, that I should come to such penury?

Oliver. Know you where you are, sir?

Orlando. O, sir, very well; here in your orchard.

Oliver. Know you before whom, sir?

Orlando. Ay, better than him I am before knows me. I know you are my eldest brother; and, in the gentle condition of blood, you should so know me. The courtsey of nations allows you my better, in that you are the first-born; but the same tradition takes not away my blood, were there twenty brothers betwixt us: I have as much of my father in me as you; albeit, I confess, your coming before me is nearer to his reverence. Oliver. What, boy!

Orlando. Come, come, elder brother, you are too young in this.

Oliver. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain?

Orlando. I am no villain; I am the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys; he was my father, and he is thrice a villain that says such a father begot villains. Wert thou not my brother, I would not take this hand from thy throat till this other had pulled out thy tongue for saying so thou has railed on thyself. Adam. Sweet masters, be patient: for your father's remembrance, be at accord. Oliver. Let me go, I say.