The Two Gentlemen of Verona by William Shakespeare

Say, this was pretty good!

Now that I feel like I have my life back, I’m going to try to get back to writing some of these reflections more regularly. My first finished book of 2023 was actually not a book—it was a play, Shakespeare’s The Two Gentlemen of Verona. I have decided to read something of Shakespeare’s once per month, and I am doing so from Norton’s wonderful edition of the great poet’s works. (The introductions to each play are tremendously helpful.)

The Two Gentlemen of Verona is one of Shakespeare’s earliest plays, if not his earliest, so I was expecting this to be something to more or less slog through. And certainly, there are places where one can see that Shakespeare is in the process of honing his craft. (Well, not me—but the editors helpfully point out when Shakespeare seemingly confuses a location or muddies a characterization.) But I was wrong. It was delightful!

The play starts off with Valentine and Proteus, the two gentlemen of the play’s title. Proteus is hopelessly in love with Julia, while Valentine is the seemingly more realistic of the two. “He after honor hunts,” Proteus says, “I after love. / He leaves his friends to dignify them more; / I leave myself, my friends, and all, for love. / Thou Julia, thou hast metamorphosed me: / Made me neglect my studies, lose my time, / War with good counsel, set the world at naught; / Made wit with musing weak, heart sick with thought” (1.1, lines 63-69). (How contemporary!) Valentine leaves for Milan, while Proteus’s father makes him follow suit, leaving his love behind. (Julia would later decide to disguise herself as a man to seek out Proteus.)

Meanwhile, Valentine himself, formerly hard-hearted, has found love with Silvia: “I have done penance for contemning Love, / Whose high imperious thoughts have punished me / With bitter fasts, with penitential groans, / With nightly tears, and daily heartsore sighs. / For in revenge of my contempt of love, / Love hath chased sleep from my enthralled eyes / And made them watchers of mine own heart's sorrow. / O gentle Proteus, Love's a mighty lord / And hath so humbled me as I confess / There is no woe to his correction, / Nor to his service no such joy on earth. / Now, no discourse, except it be of love! / Now I can break my fast, dine, sup, and sleep / Upon the very naked name of love” (2.4, lines 125-138). Proteus, however, despite his promises of fidelity to Julia, has become smitten with Silvia, and begins to connive how he can end up with her, leading to a clash at the play’s close, which comes about in a most intriguing (and controversial) way.

You can probably tell that this a comedy, and, truly, it is hilarious. There is a character named Lance who repeatedly mistakes one word for another—for instance, when he references the parable of the prodigious (meaning, amazing or enormous) son instead of the prodigal (meaning, wasteful or reckless) son. And Julia, once she realizes Proteus’s betrayal, gives the audience some asides that had me hooting and hollering. (When Silvia, who is in love with Valentine, tells Proteus, “By thy approach thou mak’st me most unhappy,” Julia mutters, “And me, when he approacheth to your presence.”) Shakespeare was full of wit from the very beginning.

Now, the aforementioned clash, and controversy. Proteus’s lust for Silvia has finally brought him to madness, and he attempts to rape her (“I’ll force thee yield to my desire.”). But before he can do anything, Valentine heroically steps forward to force Proteus back and save Silvia, his love, and renounce his friendship with Proteus. But here is where it gets so confusing, and interesting. Proteus apologizes for his behavior. And Valentine accepts it! But more, see how he does it: “Then I am paid, / And once again I do receive thee honest. / Who by repentance is not satisfied / Is nor of heaven nor earth, for these are pleased; / By penitence th’Eternal’s wrath’s appeased. / And that my love may appear plain and free, / All that was mine in Silvia I give thee” (5.4, lines 78-84). The turnaround from “I dare not say I have one friend alive” to this after a simple apology is surely meant to be comical. And it is! But notice the portion I italicized—is Valentine offering Silvia to Proteus, who minutes before attempted to rape her??? Is he simply attempting to be polite, or do the honorable thing? (Though, what a twisted code of honor that would be.) Is Valentine being sarcastic? (It doesn’t seem like it, but how could he say such a thing in all seriousness?) Julia, in her disguise, faints upon hearing this—she obviously took it seriously. But Silvia gets no lines for the rest of the play—what does she think? It is weird, confusing, disgusting, darkly funny, and abhorrent.

The play has a happy ending: Valentine stays with Silvia and Proteus stays with Julia. But what a way to get there. Even lesser Shakespeare is funnier, more interesting, and more outlandish than the vast majority of the supposedly subversive content that gets thrown in our faces today.