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 Thurloe [with a perturbed air. Someone is knocking. Cromwell. I know who it is. Open the door. Thurloe [opening the door.] The rabbi!

Cromwell [to , who prostrates himself as he crosses the threshold. What brings the Jew to me? [ rises and goes to  with an air of mystery. Manasseh [to , in an undertone. Money, my lord. [He opens his gown and displays a large bag which he can hardly carry. Cromwell [to. Go, thou. [In an undertone. But go not far. [ bows and exit. Manasseh [to .] The Swedish brig Is taken, and I hasten instantly To bring my lord his share. Cromwell [examining the bag.] Bah! what a tale! This is my share? Manasseh [biting his lips. That is—'tis on account