1 The reason is, your spirits are attentive.
2 That thou shalt see the difference of our spirit, I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it.
3 I will not choose what many men desire, Because I will not jump with common spirits And rank me with the barbarous multitudes.
4 The watery kingdom, whose ambitious head Spets in the face of heaven, is no bar To stop the foreign spirits, but they come As o'er a brook to see fair Portia.
5 Pray thee, take pain To allay with some cold drops of modesty Thy skipping spirit, lest through thy wild behaviour I be misconst'red in the place I go to, And lose my hopes.
6 The dearest friend to me, the kindest man, The best condition'd and unwearied spirit In doing courtesies, and one in whom The ancient Roman honour more appears Than any that draws breath in Italy.
7 The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus.
8 Thy currish spirit Govern'd a wolf who, hang'd for human slaughter, Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet, And whilst thou layest in thy unhallowed dam, Infus'd itself in thee; for thy desires Are wolfish, bloody, starv'd and ravenous.
9 I have heard Your Grace hath ta'en great pains to qualify His rigorous course; but since he stands obdurate, And that no lawful means can carry me Out of his envy's reach, I do oppose My patience to his fury, and am arm'd To suffer with a quietness of spirit The very tyranny and rage of his.
10 Like one of two contending in a prize That thinks he hath done well in people's eyes, Hearing applause and universal shout, Giddy in spirit, still gazing in a doubt Whether those peals of praise be his or no, So, thrice-fair lady, stand I even so, As doubtful whether what I see be true, Until confirm'd, sign'd, ratified by you.
11 I never did repent for doing good, Nor shall not now; for in companions That do converse and waste the time together, Whose souls do bear an equal yoke of love, There must be needs a like proportion Of lineaments, of manners, and of spirit; Which makes me think that this Antonio, Being the bosom lover of my lord, Must needs be like my lord.
12 But the full sum of me Is sum of something, which, to term in gross, Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractis'd; Happy in this, she is not yet so old But she may learn; happier than this, She is not bred so dull but she can learn; Happiest of all, is that her gentle spirit Commits itself to yours to be directed, As from her lord, her governor, her king.