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 fervitude. I will no longer endure it, tho' yet I know no wise remedy how to avoid it.

Enter Oliver.
Adam. Yonder comes my master, your brother.
Orla. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear how he
will shake me up.

Oli. Now, Sir, what make you here?
Orla. Nothing: I am not taught to make any thing.
Oli. What mar you then, Sir ?

Orla. Marry, Sir, I am helping you to mar That. which God made ; a poor unworthy brother of yours, with idleness.

Oli. Marry, Sir, be better employ'd, and be nought a while.

Orla. Shall I keep your hogs, and eat husks with them ? what Prodigal's portion have I spent, that I fhould come to such penury?

Oli. Know you where you are, Sir?
Orla. O, Sir, very well ; here in your Orchard.
Oli. Know you before whom, Sir?

Orla. Ay, better than he, 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 courtesie 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 reve-, rence.

Oli. What, boy!

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

Oli. Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain ?
Orla. I am no villain: I am the youngeit son of

Sir

SCENE changes to an Open Walk, before the

Duke's Palace.