A Jewish peddler boldly visits the house of a rich nobleman. The place is Rome and the time, well, about 2,000 years ago, plus or minus a few decades here or there.
"I wish to be able to peddle in front of your house, sire," entreats the peddler. "Please grant me permission to sell my goods here."
"And what, pray tell, would someone as destitute as you have to sell?" asks the nobleman, condescendingly.