DUKE  You know him well?

VALENTINE    I knew him as myself, for from our infancy

We have conversed and spent our hours together,

And though myself have been an idle truant,

Omitting the sweet benefit of time

To clothe mine age with angel-like perfection,

Yet hath Sir Proteus (for that’s his name)

Made use and fair advantage of his days:

His years but young, but his experience old;

His head unmellowed, but his judgement ripe.

And in a word (for far behind his worth

Comes all the praises that I now bestow),

He is complete in feature and in mind,

With all good grace to grace a gentleman. (2.4.53-66)

Oh, do you know him well? asks the Duke. And Valentine doesn’t hold back, lays it on thick, in fact, praising his friend unreservedly and firmly establishing their longstanding intimacy. I knew him as myself (will this come back to bite him? the idea of the friend as the other self resonates here), for from our infancy we have conversed and spent our hours together: we’ve known each other all our lives, and grown up together. (This is a trope familiar from medieval and early modern romance, and much early modern drama, boys reared together, close as brothers; some in the audience would recognise it from Chaucer’s Knight’s Tale. That ended well…)

A bit of self-deprecation (or rueful, calculating self-revelation; or genuine reflection?) and though myself have been an idle truant—although I’ve mostly messed around and wasted time—omitting the sweet benefit of time to clothe mine age with angel-like perfection—I haven’t really put the hours in, worked at anything with much diligence or seriousness—well, yet hath Sir Proteus (for that’s his name): he’s an absolute paragon. He certainly has made use and fair advantage of his days. Full marks.

And it’s not just that he’s been a good boy, studied hard, mastered all sorts of skills, he’s a nice bloke too. His years but young, but his experience old; he’s wiser than his years, mature, a proper grown-up; his head unmellowed but his judgement ripe. Don’t get me wrong, he’s still young, not old before his time—certainly not going grey, let alone thinning on top! Ha! But, you know, he gets things, makes good calls. His judgement’s ripe. And in a word (for far behind his worth comes all the praises that I now bestow) (and Valentine could realise he’s gone over the top a bit? maybe the Duke’s looking nonplussed at all this effusiveness, trying to get a word in, or Silvia’s looking put out, or even laughing at him?) he is complete in feature and in mind, with all good grace to grace a gentleman. Proteus is perfect in every way, in his appearance and in his character. He’s a gentleman in every possible sense of the word.

Can Proteus ever hope to live up to this introduction? For that matter, can Valentine?