The Two Gentlemen of Verona

Sir Thurio, don’t worry. She is sure to love you now that Valentine has been banished from her sight.

Since his exile she has despised me even more, she has refused to be around me, and she has condemned me, so that I have no hope of winning her.

The weak impression love makes on the heart is like an ice sculpture, which melts into water and loses its form after being exposed to heat for just an hour. A little time will ease her disdain, and worthless Valentine will be forgotten.

How’s it going, Sir Proteus? Is your countryman gone, as our proclamation commands?

He’s gone, my good lord.

My daughter is upset over his departure.

A little time, my lord, will kill that grief.

That’s what I believe, too, but Thurio doesn’t think so. Proteus, the high esteem I have for you—for you’ve shown me that you deserve it—makes me more inclined to discuss this matter with you.

Let me die if I ever live to see the day I am disloyal to Your Grace.

You know how much I would like to arrange a marriage between Sir Thurio and my daughter.

I do, my lord.

And also, I think, you’re aware that she refuses to obey my will?

She refused when Valentine was here, my lord.

Yes, and oddly enough she continues to oppose me. What can we do to make this girl forget her love for Valentine and love Sir Thurio?

The best way is to slander Valentine and make up lies about his infidelity, cowardice, and poor parentage—three things women strongly hate.

Yes, but she’ll think these things are only said out of hatred for him.

Yes, if his enemy tells her these things. Therefore, someone she believes to be his friend must tell her the details.

Then you must make it your job to slander him.

I would hate to do that, my lord. It’s a job unsuitable for a gentleman, especially against his own friend.

If your praise can’t help him, then your slander can’t do him any harm. Therefore the task is neither good nor bad, since I, your friend, ask you to do it.

You’ve convinced me, my lord. If I do what I can to speak against him, she won’t love him much longer. But even if she stops loving Valentine, it doesn’t mean she will love Sir Thurio.

So, as you break down her love for him, you must build it back up around me, so that it doesn’t come apart and become useless to everyone. You must do this by praising me as much as you dispraise Sir Valentine.

And, Proteus, we feel we can trust you with this task because we know, from what Valentine told us, that you’re already in love and can’t quickly fall out of love. For this reason you will be allowed to speak to Sylvia as you like. She is sad, sullen, and melancholy, and she’ll be happy to see you because you’re close to Valentine. Then you can shape her by your persuasion to hate young Valentine and love my friend, Sir Thurio.

I will do as much as I can. But you, Sir Thurio, aren’t doing enough to win her. To entice her and capture her desires, you must write sonnets whose well-crafted rhymes should be filled with vows of devotion.

Yes, poetry bred by heaven is very powerful.

Say that you sacrifice your tears, your sighs, and your heart on the altar of her beauty. Write until your ink dries up and then moisten it again with your tears, and craft some emotional line that reveals your sincerity—after all, Orpheus’ lute was made from the same stuff as poetry and could soften steel and stones, make tigers tame, and cause huge whales to leave the deep ocean and dance on the sand. After you give her your love poems, go to her bedroom window at night with a group of musicians. While they play, sing a sad melody, and the silent night will enhance such sweet heartsick yearning. If that doesn’t win her, nothing will.

Your instructions show that you’ve been in love before.

And I’ll act on your advice tonight. Therefore, good Proteus, my guide, let’s go into the city to find some gentlemen skilled at playing instruments. I have a sonnet that will work to set your plan into action.

Let’s do it, gentlemen!

We’ll visit Your Grace after supper and then determine our next move.

Like I said, let’s do it! You’re excused.