Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Mal. Or
Mal. Twelfe Night, or, What you will.
Mal. Or say, tis not your seale, not your inuention:
Mal. Y>ou can say none of this. Well, grant it then,
Mal. And tell me in the modestie of honor,
Mal. Why you haue giuen me such cleare lights of fauour,
Mal. Bad me come smiling, and crosse‑garter'd to you,
Mal. So put on yellow stockings, and to frowne
Mal. Vpon sir Toby, and the lighter people:
Mal. And acting this in an obedient hope,
Mal. Why haue you suffer'd me to be imprison'd,
Mal. Kept in a darke house, visited by the Priest,
Mal. And made the most notorious gecke and gull,
Mal. That ere inuention plaid on? Tell me why?
Ol. Ol.
Ol. Alas Maluolio, this is not my writing,
Ol. Though I confesse much like the Charracter:
Ol. But out of question, tis Marias hand.
Ol. And now I do bethinke me, it was shee
Ol. First told me thou wast mad; then cam'st in smiling,