FIRST OUTLAW         What, were you banished thence?

VALENTINE    I was.

SECOND OUTLAW     For what offence?

VALENTINE For that which now torments me to rehearse.

I killed a man, whose death I much repent,

But yet I slew him manfully, in fight,

Without false vantage, or base treachery.

FIRST OUTLAW Why, ne’er repent it, if it were done so.

But were you banished for so small a fault?

VALENTINE I was, and held me glad of such a doom.      (4.1.23-30)

Valentine quickly has to establish his status: he can’t look completely helpless, nor yet too much of a dangerous loose cannon. So, he establishes that he was banished from Milan: he can’t go back, he’s an outlaw at least in some respects. Bit of notoriety already, a touch of, don’t mess with this guy. The key thing, though, is for what offence… Valentine frames it carefully: for that which now torments me to rehearse. Oh, it’s agony to have to confess to it. (Suspense, drama; conscience, moral code.) I killed a man, whose death I much repent: yes, it’s true, I am a murderer, but I’m really sorry about it. (Whether he’s sorry or not is entirely theoretical, as of course Valentine is not a murderer; this might make him look particularly calculating, or at least clever?) He’s at pains to state, though, that yet I slew him manfully, in fight, without false vantage, or base treachery. It was a fight between gentlemen! It was fair, honest, evenly matched. The outlaws, who have perhaps started back at the news of a murderer in their midst, clutched weapons, exchanged anxious glances (all to comic effect) can sigh with relief, relax, at this reassurance that this killer was a gentleman. (Valentine has, of course, in effect been ‘killed’ as a lover by his friend Proteus, who’s played every dirty trick in the book.) The first outlaw is duly reassured: why, ne’er repent it, if it were done so. Bit of push-back on the self-reproach? Don’t worry, we’re all hardened criminals here? He’s more interested, though, in why Valentine has been banished for so small a fault? (Is he doubting the story? possibly?) Valentine manages to deflect: yes, I was, and held me glad of such a doom. I was relieved at receiving such a lenient sentence, frankly. (He doesn’t want to have to elaborate on his story, and the outlaws aren’t asking. Valentine’s sounding like one of them, or starting to.)