Enter Proteus

PROTEUS       Already have I been false to Valentine,

And now I must be as unjust to Thurio.

Under the colour of commending him

I have access my own love to prefer.

But Silvia is too fair, too true, too holy

To be corrupted with my worthless gifts.

When I protest true loyalty to her,

She twits me with my falsehood to my friend.

When to her beauty I commend my vows,

She bids me think how I have been forsworn

In breaking faith with Julia, whom I loved.            (4.2.1-11_

Back to Milan, and to Proteus, having a Moment of reflection and self-reproach (sort of). Already have I been false to Valentine—yep, indeed—and now I must be as unjust to Thurio. There’s a kind of self-loathing in this; no one likes Thurio, but Proteus recognises that he’s treating him badly, that he’s collateral damage; perhaps, too, there’s a residual sense of homosocial betrayal, going behind another man’s back. Because under the colour of commending him, pleading Thurio’s case to Silvia as my pretext and my excuse, I have access my own love to prefer; I can gain access to Silvia, any time I like, to press my own suit, plead and flirt and importune. (Colour also suggests the chameleon, surely Proteus’s spirit animal.) But Silvia is too fair, too true, too holy to be corrupted with my worthless gifts. I’m so unworthy, she’s so amazing, etc etc. No real consideration that Silvia might be desperately missing Valentine, might be far too sensible and intelligent to get involved with someone else, especially not someone as shifty as Proteus, might have moral reservations about misleading both Thurio and her father, might not like Proteus much anyway, and might quite like simply to be left alone… Moreover, she’s telling him off: when I protest true loyalty to her, she twits me with my falsehood to my friend, that is, rebukes me for being so disloyal. And, even more, when to her beauty I commend my vows, when I tell her (yet again) how gorgeous she is, she bids me think how I have been forsworn in breaking faith with Julia, whom I loved, throws my inconstancy back in my face, reminds me what a cad I am. There’s a touch of masochism in Proteus’s response, but also bravado: he’s not denying what he’s done to Silvia, but being completely honest and up front, in the hope that both his betrayals and his candour will persuade her of his feelings for her. How attractive (not).