PROTEUS       So by your circumstance you call me fool.

VALENTINE   So by your circumstance I fear you’ll prove.

PROTEUS ’Tis love you cavil at. I am not love.

VALENTINE Love is your master, for he masters you;

And he that is so yokèd by a fool

Methinks should not be chronicled for wise.          (1.1.36-41)

Proteus is, understandably, feeling rather got-at by this point, shifting to the more formal you rather than thee and employing the language of logical disputation: so by your circumstance you call me fool; in this example, this picture that you’re painting, you’re saying that I’m an idiot? Is that what you think? Valentine doubles down: well, yes, by your circumstance, this situation that you’ve got yourself into, so I fear you’ll prove. It’s certainly looking like you’re the idiot here—the fool for love. Proteus is properly defensive now: ’Tis love you cavil at. I am not love. Yeah but you’re just having a go for the sake of it, aren’t you, niggling away, mocking love itself—and I’m not love, I’m not Cupid! I’m not to blame in this! it’s not my fault! Valentine’s superior, supercilious: well then, love is your master, for he masters you. You’re powerless, completely overcome by that emotion, by Cupid himself. And he that is so yoked by a fool, someone who’s in bondage to love, who is a fool—as I’ve just been establishing, with such devastating wit and logic, and as you’ve just agreed—well, you couldn’t describe such a person as wise, could you? someone like that methinks should not be chronicled for wise. Hmmm? Feel the burn, dude. Gotcha.