PROTEUS       Here is my hand for my true constancy.

And when that hour o’erslips me in the day

Wherein I sigh not ‘Julia’ for thy sake,

The next ensuing hour some foul mischance

Torment me for my love’s forgetfulness.

My father stays my coming – answer not.

The tide is now. Nay, not thy tide of tears,

That tide will stay me longer than I should.

Julia, farewell.

[Exit Julia]

What, gone without a word?

Ay, so true love should do. It cannot speak,

For truth hath better deeds than words to grace it.

[Enter Pantino]

PANTINO        Sir Proteus, you are stayed for.

PROTEUS       Go, I come, I come.–

Alas, this parting strikes poor lovers dumb.

Exeunt                         (2.2.8-20)

 

The lovers having kissed (probably), Proteus takes Julia’s hand and makes a promise and a pledge, extravagantly: here is my hand for my true constancy. I will be true, I swear. And when that hour o’erslips me in the day wherein I sigh not ‘Julia’ for thy sake—if there’s ever an hour that passes without my remembering you, without my sighing your name—naming you with love—the next ensuing hour some foul mischance torment me for my love’s forgetfulness. Well, then I’ll deserve everything coming to me, every piece of bad luck—and I’ll suffer all the more. I will be a good, constant lover! I will continue to play that part! Sigh sigh sigh etc.

 

There’s scope for action—more embracing, another kiss, comforting Julia, if she’s overcome with tears and incapable of speech—but it’s also possible for the actor to continue without a pause, entirely certain of his own performance as the suffering lover and indeed entirely absorbed in it. So, time to go: my father stays my coming—answer not. No time for you to say anything! (even if she’s able to speak). My father’s waiting for me! And the tide is now. I have to go now. (A reminder that it is extremely eccentric, not to say near impossible, to travel to Milan from Verona by sea…) Nay, not thy tide of tears, that tide will stay me longer than I should. Don’t cry even more! I’ve got to go, the ship’s going to leave, and if you cry like that, you’ll just make me late… (There can be genuine pathos, and of course Proteus’s father doesn’t know about Julia. But there can also be a note of frustration or irritation or embarrassment, the sense that Proteus is already in Milan, in his mind, already thinking about the next thing—and enjoying his own stiff upper lip, his making the best of things, his stoicism in suffering.)

 

So: Julia, farewell. And she just—goes? Runs off, sobbing? Sees Pantino coming, too, and so leaves more speedily? But there can be a laugh on Proteus’s what, gone without a word? You didn’t let her get one in edgewise, mate. And there could be a note of doubt; Proteus is needy. Maybe she isn’t feeling this as much as me?! But a recovery, a justification: ay, so true love should do. She loves me too much to speak! It cannot speak, for truth hath better deeds than words to grace it. Actions speak louder than words. Proteus, you never said a truer thing…

 

But here’s Pantino with a hurry-up: Sir Proteus, you are stayed for. Get a move on! Go, I come, I come.—I’m on my way, honest! Alas, this parting strikes poor lovers dumb. And again he speaks truth: he had plenty to say, actually, it was Julia who couldn’t find the words…

 

So, Proteus is off to Milan, and that’s the end of this little scene, the only scene so far of Julia and Proteus together in fact.