Bassanio's a noble who needs lots of lolly
To woo his fair Portia, a very rich dolly.
He fingers his buddy, Antonio, for ducats,
So Tony then chats up a chap who has buckets:
Shylock the usurer, Merchant of Venice
(Who's locally reckoned a bit of a menace).
Shylock says: 'Okay, I'll lend you a stack
--For a pound of your flesh, if I don't get it back!'
Bassanio gets rich. A party game's played:
Bassanio wins Portia (his pal gets her maid).
Tony's fleet's wrecked; old Shylock now pounces,
And stakes out his claim for T.'s sixteen ounces.
Portia's the lawyer (she's dressed as a man);
Bassanio's fooled (believe that if you can!).
'No flesh without blood!' the Duke's Court decrees,
So Shylock is screwed by a neat legal wheeze.
They grab all his riches (but spare him his fate):
Half goes to Tony and half to the State.
'Convert!' says Antonio. 'And then all your bread
Will go to your daughter when you are dead!'
(Shylock's young daughter has married a goy,
Instead of the right kind of nice Jewish boy.)
Shylock's persuaded. All ends well, in short,
And T.'s battered boats come safely to port.
-Ron Rubin, from How to Become Ridiculously Well-Read in One Evening
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