VALENTINE   But wherefore waste I time to counsel thee

That art a votary to fond desire?

Once more adieu. My father at the road

Expects my coming, there to see me shipped.

PROTEUS       And thither will I bring thee, Valentine.

VALENTINE   Sweet Proteus, no. Now let us take our leave.

To Milan let me hear from thee by letters

Of thy success in love, and what news else

Betideth here in absence of thy friend;

And I likewise will visit thee with mine.

PROTEUS All happiness bechance to thee in Milan.

VALENTINE As much to you at home; and so farewell.

Exit      (1.1.51-62)

 

But wherefore waste I time to counsel thee—why am I even bothering, it’s pointless trying to give you any advice—that art a votary to fond desire? You’ve gone all in, committed yourself to love, foolish, silly love, like a sworn religious fanatic. (Another glance at Hero and Leander, not impossibly, in which Hero is Venus’s ‘nun’ and Leander falls in love with her at a religious festival.) But at least Valentine’s back to addressing Proteus with the familiar thee, not the more formal you; everything’s cool! Once more adieu. This really is goodbye, because my father at the road expects my coming, there to see me shipped: he’s waiting for me on the way, in order to see me safely aboard.

 

There’s a well-known geographical problem here, because Valentine suggests, here and elsewhere, that he’s going to be travelling to Milan by sea—and neither Verona nor Milan is a port. River or canal travel could be implied, but the more straightforward explanation is that a) Shakespeare’s thinking in London terms, where departure for foreign parts would often be by ship b) it really doesn’t matter c) it’s setting up a joke, in that the friends are making very heavy weather of this parting whereas in fact it’s about to be made clear that Valentine is only going to Milan, ninety miles away—it’s not close, but it’s hardly long haul…

 

Proteus wants to prolong the parting, perhaps to ensure that they part on good terms? Thither will I bring thee, Valentine; I’ll come with you as far as your rendezvous with your father. But, sweet Proteus, no. (Reassurance that they’re cool, really.) Now let us take our leave; it’s really time to say goodbye. This is it. To Milan let me hear from thee by letters of thy success in love—you can write to me about how you’re getting on with the love thing! status updates, yeah? and obviously you can tell me about everything else that’s going on here—not that there will be much, without ME—what news else betideth here in absence of thy friend. A little jab there: Valentine knows or hopes that he’s still Proteus’s friend, an intimate term which can suggest lover. Who’s going to be Proteus’s best friend? Valentine? Or this as-yet-unnamed girl? And I likewise will visit thee with mine: I’ll write, of course! Tell you about all the cool stuff I’m doing, out in the big wide world…

 

All happiness bechance to thee in Milan. Good luck, bro. Have a great time! As much to you at home; and so farewell. You too, dude. I’m out of here.

 

(It can, of course, be entirely affectionate and played entirely straight, two devoted friends parting—but it’s hard not to send up, just a bit…)