The Two Gentlemen of Verona

Stop trying to persuade me, Proteus. Young homebodies have dull minds. If you weren’t so tied to the girl you love, I’d ask you to come with me to see the distant wonders of the world rather than waste your youth living aimlessly as a sluggard at home. But, since you’re in love, love constantly and thrive in your love. I would do the same were I in love.

Are you going now? Goodbye, Valentine, my dear friend! Think of me when you happen to see some rare and noteworthy object in your travels. Wish me happiness, too, when you have good fortune. And if you’re ever in danger, trust that my prayers will protect you, for I will pray for you, Valentine.

And you’ll be praying for me on a book about love, I suspect?

I’ll pray for you on a book I love.

No doubt on some shallow story of “true” love, like the one about young Leander crossing the Hellespont.

That’s a deep story of a deeper love—the love was so deep it covered his shoes.

It’s true. And your love is so deep it covers your boots, and yet you never swam across the Hellespont.

Covers my boots? Don’t make fun of me.

No, I won’t, for it doesn’t profit you any.

What?

When you’re in love, your love-sick groans only earn her scorn, your brokenhearted sighs just get you flirtatious glances, and twenty tedious, sleepless nights spent pining for your sweetheart only yield you a brief moment of happiness. If by chance you succeed, it may turn out to be an unlucky win. And if you don’t, then you’ve only managed to waste your time. Either way, you win foolishness by being clever, or your cleverness is killed by foolishness.

So, by your logic, I’m a fool.

Because of your logic, I fear you’ll become a fool.

It’s love you have a problem with. But don’t blame me—I’m not Love.

Love is your master, because he’s got the better of you. And in my opinion, anyone who’s been taken in by a fool shouldn’t be considered very wise himself.

Yet writers say that just as the destructive caterpillar dwells within the sweetest flower buds, love inhabits the cleverest minds.

And writers also say that just as the caterpillar eats the greatest flower bud before it blooms, so too does love make young and fragile minds foolish. It destroys the young lover, who loses his youth while still in his prime, and takes away all his future hopes. But why am I wasting my time giving advice to you, a man who is devoted to foolish love? So, once again, farewell! My father expects to meet me at the harbor to see my ship off.

I’ll go with you, Valentine.

My dear Proteus, no. We should say goodbye to each other now. Write to me in Milan, and tell me of your luck with love and whatever other news happens while I’m away. I’ll likewise write to you.

May you find happiness in Milan!

And the same to you here at home! Farewell!

He hunts for honor, while I hunt for love. He leaves his friends to bring them more honor, but I neglect myself, my friends, and everything else for love. Oh, Julia, you’ve transformed me. You’ve made me neglect my studies, waste my time, argue against all reasonable advice, and set myself against the world. You’ve made my brain weak from thinking about you so much, and my heart sick with melancholy.

God save you, Sir Proteus! Have you seen my master?

He just left here a minute ago on his way to Milan.

I’d wager twenty to one, then, that his ship has already left. I’m foolish for having lost him.

Indeed, sheep often go astray when the shepherd has gone away.

You’re saying that my master is a shepherd, then, and I’m a sheep?

Yes.

Well then, my horns are his horns, whether I’m awake or asleep.

What a silly answer—very fitting for a sheep.

This means you think I’m still a sheep.

Yes, and your master a shepherd.

No, I can disprove that with an example.

It’ll be a challenge, but I’ll prove it with another example.

The shepherd looks for the sheep, but the sheep doesn’t look for the shepherd. I’m looking for my master, but my master isn’t looking for me. Therefore, I’m not a sheep.

The sheep follows the shepherd because it wants food, but the shepherd doesn’t follow the sheep for food. You follow your master for your pay, but your master doesn’t follow you for pay. Therefore, you’re a sheep.

Another bad example like that and I’ll say, “Baa.”

But anyway, what happened? Did you give my letter to Julia?

Yes, sir. I, a lost sheep, gave your letter to her, a prostitute. And she, the prostitute, gave me, a lost sheep, nothing for all my hard work.

The world isn’t big enough for all these darn sheep.

If it’s too crowded for you, then you should stick her.

No, now you’ve really gone astray. I ought to pound you.

No, sir, less than a pound will suffice for delivering your letter.

You misunderstood. I meant give you a pounding, pinhead.

You’ve gone from a pound down to a pinhead? No, I want more than that—that’s far too little payment for delivering a letter to your lover.

So what did she say?

(nodding) Ay.

Nod-ay? Well, that’s “naughty.”

You misunderstood, sir. I said she nodded, and you asked me if she nodded, and I said, “Ay.”

And all that put together is “naughty.”

Now that you’ve taken the trouble to figure it out, take that for your trouble and consider it your answer.

No, no, you shall have it for delivering the letter.

Well, I guess I must be willing to put up with you.

Why, sir, what do you mean, “put up with me”?

Geez, sir, I mean getting nothing but the word “naughty” as payment for my delivery.

Damn, you have a quick wit.

And yet I can’t speed past your slowness in paying me.

Come on, come on, tell me briefly. What did she say?

Open your wallet, and the money and her response will both be delivered.

(giving him money) Well, sir, here’s something for your trouble. What did she say?

Honestly, sir, I think you’ll have a hard time winning her.

Why? Did you get that from speaking with her?

Sir, I couldn’t get anything at all out of her, not even so much as a tip for delivering your letter. And since she was so stingy to me for having delivered your thoughts, I fear she’ll prove just as stingy with you. Don’t give her any little gifts except stones, because she’s as hard as steel.

What did she say? Nothing?

No, not even so much as “Take this for your trouble.” I can attest to your generosity since you’ve given me a small tip. In return, you can deliver your own letters from now on. And so, sir, I’ll say hello to my master for you.

Go on, get out of here. You’ll save your ship from sinking since you’re destined to die on dry land.

I must send a letter with a better messenger. I’m afraid my Julia wouldn’t accept my letter because she received it from such a worthless postman.