Here is a new, short, original play by the blogger ibikunle Abraham laniyan in the Shakespearean tradition, a comedy of errors based on mistaken identity, titled The Merchant's Mix-up. It is written in blank verse (unrhymed iambic pentameter).
The Merchant's Mix-up
Dramatis Personae:
ANTONIO: A wealthy merchant of Venice.
BASILIO: A young, handsome suitor.
PORTIA: A clever lady of Belmont.
NERISSA: Her waiting gentlewoman.
CARLO: Antonio's servant.
SCENE I. A street in Venice.
[Enter BASILIO, looking distracted, and CARLO, rushing after him.]
CARLO:
My master, sir, you walk with hurried pace,
As if the very devil were at your heels!
The sun is high; the air is warm and still.
BASILIO:
Peace, foolish Carlo, for my mind is vexed.
Awaits Antonio's word this morn,
Who promised aid to fund a journey hence
To Belmont, where the fair Portia resides.
But he is late, and time, that thief of joy,
Doth steal the precious moments of my hope.
CARLO:
Fear not, my lord, Antonio is a man
Whose word is solid as Venetian stone.
See, yonder he appears, with solemn face.
[Enter ANTONIO.]
BASILIO:
Antonio, my friend! Feared you lost
To market's wiles or sudden stormy news.
ANTONIO:
Good Basilio, forgive my tardiness.
My ships are safe, but business holds me fast.
You spoke of Belmont, and a lady fair.
Hath love thus struck you with his golden dart?
BASILIO:
Indeed, my heart doth yearn for sweet Portia,
A lady of great wealth and greater wit.
Seeks a loan to make a presentation
A worthy sight for such a prize as hers.
ANTONIO:
My coffers are full, and all I have is yours.
Go forth to Belmont, win the lady's grace.
My servant Carlo here shall carry gold
And letters of introduction to her house.
CARLO:
(To Basilio, aside)
Shall be swift as Mercury himself!
BASILIO:
Thank you, sir, a thousand times thank you!
Go to pack my bags and make all haste.
Farewell!
[Exit Basilio, with excitement.]
ANTONIO:
Farewell, and speed you well, my worthy friend.
(To Carlo)
Now, Carlo, mind you follow him straightway
With five score ducats and the parchment seals.
Be swift, good boy!
[Exit Antonio.]
CARLO:
Five score ducats? And the seals? A weighty task!
Shall not fail my master or his friend!
[Exit Carlo, running in the wrong direction.]
SCENE II. A room in Portia's house in Belmont.
[Enter PORTIA and NERISSA, in a state of some confusion.]
PORTIA:
Didst thou see, Nerissa, the messenger
Who came this morning with a letter from
My cousin in the city?
NERISSA:
Did, madam. A dull and simple lad,
Who dropped the scroll and ran off like a frighted deer.
But look upon this script! It speaks of gold,
And of a suitor, Basilio by name,
Who comes forthwith to woo your gentle hand.
And signed "Antonio."
PORTIA:
Antonio? The wealthy merchant? Why, know him not!
But this Basilio sounds a hopeful name.
The letter is confusing, poorly writ.
Seems my cousin's wit is much reduced.
"He sends you gold to aid your worthy cause."
What cause, Nerissa? To be fairly dressed?
My silks are fine; need no merchant's gold.
NERISSA:
Perhaps he means to buy your favour, madam.
But look! A man approaches with a pouch!
[Enter CARLO, breathing heavily, carrying a large purse of gold and the letter.]
CARLO:
My lady Portia? Bring these from Venice!
PORTIA:
Are you the same dull boy who ran before?
CARLO:
Madam, no boy, but Carlo, servant to
Antonio, who sends this gold for Master Basilio!
PORTIA:
(To Nerissa)
For Basilio? A man not yet arrived,
Sends gold to me, via this clumsy fool,
For his own use? A strange and novel suit!
(To Carlo)
Good fellow, keep your gold, for have plenty.
Return to Venice, tell your master there
His friend's arrival is expected soon.
CARLO:
But madam, my master Antonio ordered...
PORTIA:
Go, fly! The air of Belmont needs no fog
From Venice-town. Begone!
[Portia gestures forcefully. Carlo, confused, backs away and runs off, still holding the gold.]
NERISSA:
The man is mad, the letter makes no sense,
And this Basilio must be a strange lord,
Who sends his servant with his money back!
PORTIA:
It is a comedy of errors, friend.
Shall resolve this tangle when the man,
Basilio, doth arrive. Long to meet
This noble suitor who inspires such mess!
Come, let us wait his coming in the garden.
[Exeunt, laughing.]
[CURTAIN]
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