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BOB THOMSON
This is my third year with Newham Writers Workshop. I have for most of those three years concentrated on short stories. However, I thought I would try my hand at verse, and this is the result.
WHAT REALLY HAPPENED
Being a true account of events in Venice, the occasion of a false and slanderous play by one William Shakespeare
Shylock A Jewish banker who hates Antonio because he has often lent money free of interest, to the discomfiture of the banking community, and because Antonio has frequently and publicly reviled Shylock as a money-grubber
Launcelot Gobbo Shylock’s head clerk (a Christian)
Portia A young adventuress of dubious antecedents
Nerissa Portia’s young maid
Antonio A merchant who trades oversea. He hates Shylock because he lends money at interest (then a crime for Christians)
Bassanio A friend of Antonio, a gambler and waster
Solanio A more respectable friend of Antonio’s
Thou know’st that William Shakespeare, called the Bard
To tell the factual truth found very hard;
He would embroider truth with details wild
And tell such tales as would not fool a child.
And worse than bending truth he would tell lies,
And challenged, look you straight between the eyes -
That slander that he wrote about Othello!
(When you really couldn’t meet a nicer fellow.)
= * =
Those witches on the blasted heath brewed liquor;
To drink it brought Nirvana much much quicker.
The Scots three times a day ate oaten gruel -
With bagpipes all day long, oh life was cruel!
It’s known that Duncan drank himself to death,
But Willy Shakespeare blamed it on Macbeth:
Said he did the deed with bloody dagger,
Egged on by Lady M, a cruel, vile nagger.
= * =
His calumnies upon that poor old Jew
Who lived in Venice, Shylock, are not true.
Bassanio was always on the scrounge,
He spent his morns in bed and then did lounge
In taverns playing cards and, not being choosy,
Would spend the night with some expensive floozy
Who told him that for him she had a pash -
She loved him for himself, not for his cash.
But this did not prevent the little honey
From going home to breakfast with his money.
So when he fell in love with Portia fair
He was quite broke, and so he didn’t dare
To ask her out - the profligate young sinner
Could not afford to treat the lass to dinner.
= * =
He’d asked her maid if Portia was slimmin’
Like many slight and delicate young wimmin.
Nerissa found the very idea comic,
Portia loved all subjects gastronomic.
She said that Portia at her uncle’s wake
Had started with the lightly roasted hake
Flaked on ham and topped with sturgeon’s roes;
Portia’s delight - she’d had three plates of those.
This followed by two dozen fat French snails,
But just one pair of succulent young quails;
Then moussaka of veal with kidney beans
And courgettes steeped in wine, and aubergines.
She explained her mistress was no glutton:
She’d declined to try the leg of mutton.
Instead she’d had an entrecôte of steak,
And just four vegetables was all she’d take,
With side-dish, chipolatas dipped in mustard.
She’d followed this with rhubarb tart and custard.
Of cheeses offered she tried only three -
The Camembert, the Stilton and the Brie,
With buttered biscuits made of fine white flour;
A goodly stack of these she did devour;
She spread the butter thick and ever more thick:
’Twas a wonder that she stayed so ectomorphic!
Of tarts and cakes she’d none, declaring that
Overeating makes young girls grow fat.
(But just to please the chef she let him carve her
A not-too-large amount of Greek baclava.)
= * =
Bassanio then tried from friends to borrow.
They all expressed their sympathy and sorrow
That they themselves were absolutely broke,
Except Solanio, who thuswise spoke:
(He’d read Will Shakespeare’s other pack of lies,
And quoted Hamlet, much to B’s surprise).
"Neither a borrower or lender be,
Said Polonius, and with that we must agree.
If one’s a sin then so must be the other."
Bassanio said, "You sound just like my mother."
And then the poor man got so lachrymose
He nearly went and took an overdose.
= * =
Antonio, the libertine’s true friend,
Said if he’d had the cash he’d gladly lend
Three thousand ducats to relieve Bassanio’s plight,
But couldn’t find the money overnight.
His wealth was all tied up upon the foam,
He’d have no cash until the ships came home.
He hated Shylock, but he said he’d try
To get the money-lender to supply
The sum his friend must have to fund his wooing -
Although it seemed a lot to keep her chewing
Fish and meat and molluscs by the plateful.
Bassanio said he’d be forever grateful.
= * =
Antonio then went to see the Jew,
Who said, "Can what I think I hear be true?
You’ve called me dog, and wouldn’t throw a bone
If I was starving. Now you want a loan?"
"It’s business," said Antonio. "Yours to lend,
And mine to borrow, not to be your friend.
I wouldn’t for myself approach you, never!
It’s for a comrade I make this endeavour."
"Bassanio?" said Shylock. "What a joke!
That silly sod who walks round in a toque.
A gambler, womaniser and a soak;
I’ve never known him when he wasn’t broke.
He tried me once. Of course I turned him down;
He’s borrowed money everywhere in town.
There’s no way he can guarantee to pay
The loan back - not at least till Judgement Day,
By which time I shall not be needing money,
I’ll be with Moses tasting milk and honey.
But business is business as I see it,
I’ll make the loan if you will guarantee it.
Now whatever rate of interest I fix
For money for your friend to spend on chicks,"
Gibed Shylock, with a leer louche and laconic.
"You’ll say without a doubt is too Draconic.
You’ll spread the word around that I’m a miser,
So in the circumstances ’twill be wiser
If you will deal directly with my Launce.
So he can fix the terms of the advance.
He is a Christian, as you claim to be;
If you don’t like his terms you can’t blame me.
Accept his terms or not, just as you choose,
But if you don’t, then don’t start blaming Jews."
Thus Launce arranged the loan for crass Bassanio,
With named as guarantor the rash Antonio:
The debt unpaid, the Jew could cut a pound
Of flesh from that insulting Christian hound.
= * =
As Shylock said, he never would have had
A use for any part of that foul cad:
He’d just as soon eat pork chops for his dinner
As go within six feet of that damned sinner.
The idea for that clause was that of Gobbo,
Who said Antonio was just a yobbo
Who as a Christian made him feel ashamed
When most unjustly Shylock was defamed.
Why should a Jew who lends be called a crook
For getting spendthrift Christians off the hook?
Gobbo said he’d pray the ships were sunk,
To keep that merchant up all night with funk.
And just to unhinge poor Antonio’s mind
He sent him a sharp knife - ’twas most unkind!
And Gobbo’s wicked wish became a fact:
Antonio’s ships by gale and storm were wracked;
Two were wrecked, the other vainly sought,
And Gobbo took his master’s case to court.
= * =
Now Portia did not know the clause was phoney
Until old Shylock told her ’twas baloney.
He’d never chop bits off that macaroni -
That foppish git that Portia knew as Tony.
’Twas then she had her really great idea,
And told the Jew to feign he was sincere.
Now Portia was not rich as Shakespeare said,
Oft times she’d had no place to lay her head.
She said to Shylock, "I’m quite flush just now,"
She said she’d met the captain of a dhow
Who’d told her how to make a couple of thou.
(We’ll not enquire too closely as to how.)
"But soon I’ll need some more," she said. "And you
Would no doubt like more too - all bankers do.
In court you’ll tell the old and feeble Duke
In gruesome detail - try and make him puke -
That as the wrongéd party you’ve the rights
To have eight ounces each of liver and lights."
= * =
Said Shylock, "I can’t see how we’ll gain aught
By my tergiversating in the court."
"Lend me your ears," said Portia. "I’ll explain.
It has to do with commerce in the main.
Now when you buy an artefact or beast,
You do expect your money’s-worth at least;
For if you buy a mule, a horse, a hound.
You do expect the creature to be sound;
And when you buy a carriage or a cart,
You don’t expect the thing to fall apart.
But ships that are designed to sail the sea
Are always sinking, so it seems to me.
‘What news on the Rialto?’ people say,
‘How many ships have come to grief today?’
Now why when you do buy a brand-new ship
Which founders on its first and only trip
Or later, when the builders have declared
Your damaged ship is properly repaired,
Can you not sue the builders for the cost
Of ship and all the merchandise that’s lost?
It is an act of God, the builders say,
There were storms and hurricanes that day.
With that they wring their hands and run away.
’Tis my intent to make the buggers pay!"
(I should perhaps explain to gentle readers
That when in converse with society’s leaders,
With dukes and lords and countesses and earls
Her conversation was a string of pearls.
But in talking to her cronies on the bourse
Our Portia’s language could be very coarse.)
The lass continued, seeing Shylock’s frown,
"And don’t forget the sailors that do drown.
Who keeps the orphans when the dads are lost?
Taxpayers - you and me - we pay the cost.
The girls? Well some will find themselves a spouse,
And others finish in the bawdy house,
Supplying sex like water from a tap,
Where sailors that don’t drown will get the clap.
The boys? Some will be soldiers, tinkers, tailors,
The clever ones stockbrokers or wholesalers,
Some will be robbers, con-men or blackmailers,
So we will need policemen, narks and jailers;
Some will admit to being abject failures,
And they will go to sea as bloody sailors,
And when they drown we’ll have another brood
Of orphans who’ll need shelter, clothes and food.
It’s those ship-builders who the city menace,
They’ll end up by bankrupting fair Venice."
= * =
Said Shylock, "That was quite a diatribe;
Are you suggesting that this Jew you’ll bribe?"
Now Shylock, though as cunning as a fox,
Had been brought up quite strictly orthodox.
The idea that he would commit foul perjury
By saying he was bent on self-taught surgery
In court, and while the Duke of Venice gawps
Transmogrify young Tony into corpse,
He found abhorrent. He told Portia so,
And added, "What I really want to know
Is why you want me telling such a lie:
Just what is in this scheme for you and I?"
"Your grammar’s very bad," pert answered she.
"You mean what’s in this scheme for you and me?"
"All right," said Shylock. "What gain you and me
If I to your nefarious scheme agree?"
"Oh dear," said Portia, with a heartfelt sigh.
"You mean to ask what we’ll gain, you and I?"
"Now look," he said. "You’re giving me a pain.
What will old Shylock and young Portia gain?
What do you stand to gain, give me a clue,
Explain exactly what’s in it for you."
She said, "In court for Tony I’ll appear,
And plead with austere Shylock, who will sneer
And say what has been writ in the agreement
Must stand, however inconvenient
To the one who pays his debt too late;
He must just accept his cruel fate.
I’ll say the law of Venice so disposes,
But you are Jewish, I’ll go back to Moses,
And prove your much in error by your laws.
I shall request the Duke to call a pause
For just one hour so that privily
I can persuade you that you must agree,
Then you’ll come back to court quite, quite distraught:
We’ll say the matter’s settled out of court.
You will extend the loan for six months more,
And not insist on spilling Tony’s gore.
The sharpest Jewish banker in the town
I will have beaten. Think of my renown!"
= * =
Then Shylock said. "Of course, ’twill profit thee,
But there doesn’t seem a lot in it for me.
In fact, my reputation in the town
Will go - I’ll be regarded as a clown."
"Come, come," said Portia. "Play it cool, man, cool:
No man who’s rich is ever called a fool.
We’ll work in tandem: you will find the clients
And I’ll employ my legislative science.
From your business sources you’ll obtain
Lists of ships that ne’er came home again.
Find out the owners’ names and where they dwell,
I’ll go and see them, give them my hard sell.
I’ll issue writs against those foul ship-builders,
Relieve them of their ducats, francs and guilders;
In Italy we have most to gain,
Then we’ll try our luck in sunny Spain;
We’ll sue the stolid Germans and the Dutch
And Danes and Swedes and Finns and others such
As live in lands of constant doom and gloom,
And never smile or laugh from womb to tomb;
Pounds we’ll claim from Scousers on the Mersey,
Dollars from the builders in New Jersey.
Escudos from the crafty Portugees,
Whatever cash they’ve got from Lebanees
And those pirates who are called Maltees.
And when we’re well established overseas
I’ll go to Dakar, sue the Sengalees;
I’ll even try to sue the Japanees
And those sleekit, saffron-faced Burmees;
Gold we’ll get from Russians and Chinees!"
"Stop, stop, stop!" shrieked Shylock. "Portia, please!
Sounds like some linguistical disease,
My head is buzzing like a swarm of bees.
Are you so sure you’ll win these suits with ease?"
"Easy man," she said, "as shelling peas!
At school they called me ‘Young Demosthenes’.
I’ll have those bastards on their bended knees.
And in the See of Rome there’s one big cheese
Owes me a favour. (Better not ask why -
He knew my mum in happy days gone by.)
I’ll issue my first writ in Rome, know why?
One word from him and we’ll be home and dry.
With that for starters there’s no doubt we ought
To make all builders settle out of court.
My fees will be enormous, please relent,
And I shall gladly pay you ten per cent."
"Thirty," said Shylock, quick as lightning flash
(He was no sluggard when it came to cash.)
"That’s absurd," said Portia. "All the work I’ll do.
Your function is quite simple - finding whom to sue."
"On second thoughts," said Shylock. "I will not agree
To go committing perjury for any size of fee."
= * =
Now Portia wasn’t going to give in:
In life what matters one more tiny sin?
(That morn she’d guessed that he might lack the will,
So’d bathed in asses’ milk and dressed to kill;
She’d splashed herself with jasmine and patchouli,
Enough to make a Trappist monk unruly.)
She said, "Come sit beside me on this couch."
(I’ll change his mind, she thought, for that I’ll vouch.)
And she did work her wicked women’s wiles,
And soon old Shylock’s face was wreathed in smiles.
(It’s not that Shylock was at all salacious,
But Portia’s wiles were very efficacious.
’Tis said she filled the poor old bod with booze,
Then showed him her indelicate tattoos.)
Like any man who has been starved with cold
A little warmth will soon make him quite bold -
"O’er Tony’s pound of flesh I’ll not repine,
If I can have all ninety pounds of thine."
(Of just what happened next we are not certain.
That spoil-sport, Shylock, went and drew the curtain.)
= * =
And so it came to pass, he did relent
And say he’d do’t - but not for ten percent.
Portia raised astonished eyes to heaven,
But said, "Okay then, how about eleven?"
Shylock took a gulp of tonic wine,
(Apart from wobbly knees he now felt fine)
And said, "You bargain like a Levantine.
I think the figure should be twenty-nine."
"Twelve," said Portia, "Don’t prevaricate."
"I will," said Shylock, "Make it twenty-eight."
"Thirteen," said Portia, "God, you’re hard to please!
You’ll get the agio on my foreign fees.
(Those who don’t pay, their bank accounts you’ll freeze.
Their lands, their goods and chattels we shall seize,
We’ll turn their debtors into garnishees,
We’ll make the rotters live on mushy peas.)"
"My God," said Shylock, "Now we’re back on these
Endless lines of verse that rhyme with ease.
Dear me, dear me, young Portia, you’re a caution;
Let an old man have a just, fair portion!
You’re harsh, my dear, you’ll never get to heaven!
Thirteen’s unlucky - make it twenty-seven!"
The reader I’ll not shock with recitations
Of this direful couple’s altercations;
With Portia’s guileful Christian protestations
And Shylock’s ancient Hebrew lamentations.
No doubt you’ve calculated the per cent he
Agreed to was the median figure, twenty?
Wrong! Portia was the slyest of Eve’s daughters;
They finished up at nineteen and three-quarters.
= * =
"There is a rub," said Shylock, "I’ve just thought,
Women can’t act as advocates in court."
Said Portia, "It’s a doctrine I deplore,
It ought to be against the bloody law.
Women are better at discourse,
Of that I am quite sure,"
"It’s practice," said Shylock sourly,
"They do it so much more.
And, my charming but chatty young poppet,
They never know when they should stop it."
"It’s a problem," said Portia, "That I’ve solved before,
For some time now I have practised the law.
I dress in hose and doublet, walk with manly stride,
And act the legal dandy, full of boastful pride.
Three years I’ve been a member of the bar:
I’m known to all as Doctor Balthazar."
= * =
At the start of Gobbo’s earnest pleading
All could see just where the case was leading.
(Of Portia’s plot stern Gobbo had no notion,
And Gobbo’s case when stated caused commotion.)
The maidens in the gallery did swoon
With dread dismay - young Tony very soon,
The man that any one would gladly wed
Or, if not that, at least try out in bed,
Would never be in sweet lewd dream remembered,
As he, it now seemed sure, would be dismembered.
= * =
Then Balthazar and Shylock did appear;
The cunning pair soon fooled the court, I fear.
Gobbo’s frantic pleadings were dismissed,
And poor old Shylock by the crowd was hissed.
Antonio, who’d faced his fate with valour, he
Was chased by ladies from the public gallery -
Apart from one who fancied Balthazar,
The handsome young attorney of the Bar,
With pearly teeth and velvety brown eyes.
She tailed him home and got a big surprise.
= * =
As for Portia’s plans, they worked a treat;
The very first she sued soon got cold feet.
Although in argument she was quite shrewd
Berating builders for their turpitude:
"Since the world began there’s been bad weather,
So why do you, you villain, never, never
Take cognisance of this in your design -
Not build as though the weather’s always fine?"
Defendants were inhibited by dread -
The priests examined every word they said.
To talk of ‘Acts of God’ regarding wrecks
Would certainly some clerics sorely vex.
To blame them on the Devil would displease -
They’d be accused of being Manichees.
And Portia’s friend on high of whom she spoke,
Well, people who crossed him went up in smoke!
= * =
The first case being won, there soon were more,
Ship-owners came knock, knocking on her door.
Thus Portia and old Shylock got quite rich -
But getting rich does never cure the itch
To make some more, and soon the cunning bitch a
Scheme devised to make them even richer.
Some blameful builders asked to pay in cash
For foreign parts did make a sudden dash.
Others known to be possessed of wealth
Secreted it in parts unknown, by stealth.
Some honest ones, they’d said that times were tough;
They had some cash, but didn’t have enough.
So for ship-owners and ship-builders too,
And freighters and all other merchants who
Would suffer if a vessel came to grief
Or had its contents stolen by a thief,
Our Portia planned a scheme of marine cover:
One paid an annual premium to her lover
Old Shylock, who a money trust would form
So merchants never more would fear a storm,
Or pirates, reefs or an uncharted rock
Would leave them ever afterwards in hock.
The total losses if a ship did sink
Now borne by Shylock-Portia Partners Inc.
= * =
And what of Tony’s friend, Bassanio?
Well, Portia soon gave him the old heave-ho.
She said he was a crawling little creep
Whose brains were dimmer than those of a sheep;
Whose obsessive, nasty sexual habits
Would put to shame a colony of rabbits.
He could find a sty and share it with a pig,
Except the pig would surely find it infra dig.
= * =
All would have gone well, but for Roman priests
Who wanted their cut, and the greedy beasts
Would have had the major portion so
Our clever couple moved their firm to Bow
In London, where old Shylock’s reputation
Was low because of Shakespeare’s defamation.
His monicker he very wisely goyed
By changing to a gentile name, Ed Lloyd.
= * =
He later moved the business to the City,
And then split up with Portia, ’twas a pity.
In truth she said she had a sudden hunger
To settle down with some nice man much younger:
"Shylock I’ll always with much love remember,
But you can’t keep blowing on a dying ember."
And Shylock, who was rueful, but not tearful,
Said, "Not many men pluck peaches in December."
= * =
So Portia gave up living steeped in sin,
And married a young lawyer, name of Gwynne.
And Shylock wished him luck: "You’ll need no urgin’
To marry such a pure and chaste young virgin.
Like any bright young businessman of course you’re
Happy now you’ve got yourself your Portia."
They lived in Gray’s Inn Road, in Clerkenwell,
And had a little daughter, christened Nell.
She was fair, but crazy as a coot:
When she grew up she started selling fruit.
A lover she acquired, did Portia’s daughter,
A man quite short (whose Dad was a whole head shorter.)
= * =
Our dark and handsome Gobbo was much sought
By ladies - some were in the royal court.
He’d wed a wealthy countess, so he thought;
He wooed her madly, but it came to naught.
A warning went to all royal dames:
"You touch him at your peril!" signed King James.
And to escape that loathsome royal blighter
Launce got a job as potman in the Mitre.
= * =
Nerissa, who was pretty, bright and witty,
Was chased by all the bankers in the city.
Said one’ "My God, we’ll have to form a queue!
Are there any more at home like you?"
Nerissa wrote to sisters, cousins, aunts,
And sent them one week’s wages in advance.
They all lived in a lovely house in Bow.
And that, we think is all you need to know.
= * =
We hope you Shakespeare lovers are not grieving
To find the Bard of Avon so deceiving.
You’ve noticed that our verse is all in rhyme,
Which makes our moral tale sound quite sublime.
Comparing us with Shakespeare is a crime -
His so-called blank verse isn’t worth a dime.
We’ll have just one more line that rhymes with ease.
And say our sole intent has been to please.
THE END
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