VALENTINE Welcome, dear Proteus. Mistress, I beseech you
Confirm his welcome with some special favour.
SILVIA His worth is warrant for his welcome hither,
If this be he you oft have wished to hear from.
VALENTINE Mistress, it is. Sweet lady, entertain him
To be my fellow servant to your ladyship.
SILVIA Too low a mistress for so high a servant.
PROTEUS Not so, sweet lady, but too mean a servant
To have a look of such a worthy mistress.
VALENTINE Leave off discourse of disability.
Sweet lady, entertain him for your servant.
PROTEUS My duty will I boast of, nothing else.
SILVIA And duty never yet did want his meed.
Servant, you are welcome to a worthless mistress.
PROTEUS I’ll die on him that says so but yourself.
SILVIA That you are welcome?
PROTEUS That you are worthless. (2.4.92-107)
It’s PROTEUS! And Valentine’s enthusiastic, ish—welcome, dear Proteus—but he’s most keen to show, and prove, how intimate he is with Silvia, as well as (perhaps) giving his Best Friend the Best Welcome he can think of. So: mistress, I beseech you (he says) confirm his welcome with some special favour. Be nice to my friend! Show him just how welcome he is in Milan! Silvia’s smooth, and clever in her courtesy: his worth is warrant for his welcome hither, if this be he you oft have wished to hear from. You don’t need to tell me to give him a special welcome, because if he’s everything that you’ve praised, everything that you’ve promised, then he’s worthy already of the most effusive welcome I can give! Oh, absolutely, says Valentine, mistress, it is. He’s the man! Sweet lady, entertain him to be my fellow servant to your ladyship. Can he wait on you too? can he be your follower, your suitor, just like me? (Be careful what you wish for, Valentine. Also, isn’t this a bit—odd?) Silvia’s one jump ahead: too low a mistress for so high a servant—are you sure? am I good enough, am I worthy of such an amazing suitor, given the heights to which you’ve praised him, how much you’ve talked him up? That’s Proteus’s cue, jumping in to get Valentine out of the hole that’s starting to appear: not so, sweet lady (really, I’m not all that, goodness only knows what he’s been saying about me!) I am too mean a servant to have a look of such a worthy mistress. You’re clearly amazing, I’m far too insignificant to be favoured even with your least, most casual glance.
Oh, enough, says Valentine—leave off discourse of disability. Don’t talk yourself down! Sweet lady, entertain him for your servant! (Is this because Valentine likes the sound of this phrase? Or a copyist’s repetition?) And Proteus is on message here, correct, humble: my duty will I boast of, nothing else. What else could I do, but hope to serve you? And duty never yet did want his meed, responds Silvia: duty and service will be rewarded! Servant, you are welcome to a worthless mistress. If you must—but enough with all the flattery. (Heck, another one, she may well be thinking. All these men and their exhausting protestations…) Proteus persists in his protestations, however: I’ll die on him that says so but yourself. I’ll fight for your honour, take on anyone who insults you; you’re the only person who’s allowed to say anything like that about yourself! Silvia can look after herself though, some faux incomprehension here: sorry, you’ll fight anyone who says that you’re welcome? Er, no, anyone who says that you’re worthless! (It must be so exhausting being the woman on the pedestal. All the ego stroking, the reassurance, the keeping up while keeping at arm’s length…)