The Fifty-2 Weeks of 2013, posed a theme this week, titled “A pound of flesh.” This is my entry for the theme – I have attempted to tell the tale of The Merchant of Venice, with a poetic twist 🙂 For once, it is a written post, with no photographs.
A pound of flesh, no jot of blood
There lived in Venice, a man of good soul,
to help people in need was Antonio’s noble goal.
Well loved by him, Bassanio was his friend,
an heiress he wished to wed, but all his wealth he’d spent.
Of Antonio, three thousand ducats, he sought,
but his ships were at sea, the money couldn’t be got.
To Shylock, went Antonio, for money he could lend,
with which, Bassanio, to Belmont, he could send.
Now, against Antonio, a grudge Shylock nursed,
and wished so dearly, his foe hit at his worst.
Benevolence he did feign, the ducats he did dish,
if the loan wasn’t paid, off Antonio, a pound of flesh, he did wish.
Off went Bassanio, with a thought, single, in his head,
to win Lady Portia, whom he intended to wed.
Gertiano did take Nerissa his wife,
while Portia gave Bassanio, a ring, to save for life.
Soon came the news though, post the wedding fest,
lost were Antonio’s ships, and all the money he did invest.
The men took haste, to Venice they sped,
to help Antonio, as into trial, he was led.
The women followed soon, not wishing to stay mute,
donning not dresses, but each, a man’s suit.
Into court, marched Portia, for a plan (s)he did see,
from the greed and wrath of Shylock, to set Antonio free.
(S)he begged, (s)he pleaded; Shylock wouldn’t budge,
for, so deep for Antonio, did run his ire and grudge.
With an eye on the contract, Portia did allow,
a greedy Shylock, Antonio watched, sweating upon his brow.
Take a pound of his flesh, you may, but no jot of blood,
one pound – no more, no less; else the job’s no good!
Stumped, Shylock did stand, afront the duke,
For now he stood accused, the trial almost won by fluke.
He paid his dues, he mutely went his way,
Leaving the startled men, to Portia, thankful to their last day.