The Merchant Of Venice Novels & Stories

’ They both laughed. ‘You’re very good. How I wish I could employ you to join my crew.’ ‘Oh. What a great opportunity. I would I love it, but I am just a merchant man. I love merchant business than anything.’ ‘That’s great. What do you merchandize on?’ ‘Ivory’ ‘Oh, Elephant trunk?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Are you going to Britain to sell your product or buy?’ ‘We are going to Britain to sell them.’ ‘How I wish I could become a merchant too, maybe when I retire from sailing.’

Daven came to the Shylock room where shylock was eating a bunch of grapes and drinking vine. Shylock saw him and said him to sit. Daven said, ‘it is very difficult to take her because she is with a group and the people of the group are our soldiers. Shylock didn’t understand, he asked Daven, ‘why our soldiers are involved with them?’ Daven told him, ‘because our king provides service to the boy named Ricardo by giving him, soldiers and personal lady doctor.’ Shylock thought that why did he ask for a lady doctor?

He extends his arm, unsure for a heartbeat, then I step into it. And I don’t resist. I let him pull me close, let my cheek rest against his shoulder as the sea crashes beneath us. *** Vynov’s port comes alive in the early morning mist—noisy, and utterly indifferent to our arrival. Sailors shout over crates. Nobles in deep velvet disembark with wrinkled noses. Merchants haggle before their boots even touch the cobblestones. Gold moves hands. Oil-stained ropes creak. It’s practised chaos. This is an island kingdom built on trade, and it runs like a hungry beast, feasting on coin and commerce.

I had learned, the hard way and the only way anything is truly learned, that the difference between a plan and a wish was the willingness to wait until every condition was correct before you moved. I waited until every condition was correct. The first purchase went through Meridian Capital on a Tuesday morning in the thin window that followed Sinclair Group’s quarterly results. The price had dipped as I had studied it dipping three times before. The trading volume was low, the kind of low that meant any modest movement through the market would pass like background noise, unremarkable, belonging to no one in particular. Fourteen hundred shares. Enough to begin. Small enough to mean nothing to

The man said. “Won’t you come inside and have tea with us?” The baby voice asked seductively. “No thanks,” the merchant said with a sigh, “I got a letter that my wife put to bed last night, I must be by her side before the sun sets.” “I see, okay, here is your money.” The coins jingled again. “Please come a little bit closer into the shadow, for I am sick and can’t come out of the sun.” Silence passed again.

"She made quite an impression, I must say." I busied myself with pouring another drink, avoiding Venezio's gaze as best as I could but I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of my stomach. "The question is, what's the prideful Lilianna Bruno doing here, playing servant?" Venezio taunted with a smirk. "She works for me now," Marco retorted, his tone laced with authority as the other servers brought out the appetizers. Venezio chuckled darkly, his eyes flickering with malice. "Is that what's left of the esteemed Bruno family after the Cosa Nostra burned them into the ground?"