[Enter Proteus and Lance]
PROTEUS Run, boy, run. Run, and seek him out.
LANCE So-ho! Soo-hooo––
PROTEUS What seest thou?
LANCE Him we go to find. There’s not a hair on’s head, but ’tis a Valentine.
PROTEUS Valentine?
VALENTINE No.
PROTEUS Who then? His spirit?
VALENTINE Neither.
PROTEUS What then?
VALENTINE Nothing.
LANCE Can nothing speak? Master, shall I strike?
PROTEUS Who wouldst thou strike?
LANCE [pointing at Valentine] Nothing.
PROTEUS Villain, forbear.
LANCE Why, sir, I’ll strike nothing. I pray you –
PROTEUS Sirrah, I say forbear. Friend Valentine, a word. (3.1.188-203)
Proteus! Boo, hiss. And Lance; this is a combination that hasn’t appeared together previously. Is Crab there? One hopes so. One could imagine him offering doggy comfort to Valentine, who can speak to Crab in his distress rather than directly to the others. Much consolation, however fleeting, in a silky ear and a damp nose. Proteus and Lance are looking for Valentine with some urgency (Proteus is, of course, putting on a performance of concern): run, boy, run. Run, and seek him out! Go and find Valentine, it’s super urgent! Lance is quicker on the uptake (or perhaps Proteus has to pretend not to see Valentine); he halloos as if they’re hunting and he’s sighted the quarry. Why, what see’st thou? What is it? asks Proteus, presumably disingenuously. Duh, him we go to find. Right there. There’s not a hair on’s head, but ’tis a Valentine, every last bit of him, and every last bit a lover…
Valentine? asks Proteus, in an Oscar-worthy performance, only just purporting to recognise his best friend. (Or else Valentine is slumped unrecognisable, or has turned to go already, or his face is covered.) Is that you? No, comes the reply. A gentle joke: who, then? his spirit? If you’re not Valentine, what are you, his ghost? Neither. Neither Valentine himself nor his ghost. Er, well, what then? Is this some kind of joke, a game? (Proteus must know all too well, or at least suspect what’s happened.) Nothing. I’m nothing, nothing at all, is the response. Lance is understandably finding this frustrating: can nothing speak? If you’re nothing, how come you’re talking then? Master, shall I strike?Can I give him a slap? (Lance may have a stick, as he had in the earlier scene with Crab.) Who wouldst thou strike?What are you on about? says Proteus. Er, nothing, is the inevitable reply. Villain, forbear, that’s enough from you, give over, pack it in. That’s water off a duck’s back to Launce: why, sir, I’ll strike nothing. Just a little slap, after all, I’d be hitting nothing, wouldn’t I? I pray you—come on, let me have a go at him… Sirrah, I say forbear. That’s enough, joke over. Friend Valentine (you HYPOCRITE, but also, again, underscoring Proteus’s treachery even before he’s opened his treacherous mouth) a word. I need to tell you something.