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 The Man.Shame! do you want mine?

Fabiani.What, then?

The Man.There is a parchment that never leaves you. 'Tis a blank signature given you by the Queen wherein she swears upon her Catholic crown to grant to whoever shall present it to her whatever favour he may ask at her hands. Give me that, and you shall have Jane Talbot's muniments of title. Paper for paper.

Fabiani.What use would you make of that promise?

The Man.This. Cards on the table, my lord. I have told you your affairs, now I propose to tell you mine. I am one of the principal Jewish silversmiths on Rue Kantersten, Brussels. I lend my money. That is my trade. I lend ten pounds and receive fifteen. I lend to all the world; I would lend to the devil, or to the Pope. Two months since, one of my debtors died without paying me. He was a former retainer of the Talbots, living in exile. The poor man left only a few rags. I had them seized. Among them I found a box, and in that box papers—the papers of Jane Talbot, my lord, with her whole history told in detail and supported by evidence—for use in better days. The Queen of England had just bestowed Jane Talbot's estates on you. Now it happened that I needed the sanction of the Queen of England for a loan of ten thousand marks. I saw that there was a possible bargain to be struck with you. I came to England in this disguise. I myself kept watch upon your goings and comings, I myself watched Jane Talbot—I do everything myself. In this way I learned all, and here I am. You shall have Jane Talbot's papers if you give me the