Y. Mor. Nay, stay, my lord, I come to bring you news; Mine uncle's taken prisoner by the Scots.140
Edw. Then ransom him.
Lan. 'Twas in your wars; you should ransom him.
Y. Mor. And you shall ransom him, or else——
Kent. What! Mortimer, you will not threaten him?
Edw. Quiet yourself, you shall have the broad seal, To gather for him th[o]roughout the realm.
Lan. Your minion Gaveston hath taught you this.
Y. Mor. My lord, the family of the Mortimers Are not so poor, but, would they sell their land, 'Twould [225] levy men enough to anger you.150 We never beg, but use such prayers as these.
Edw. Shall I still be haunted thus?
Y. Mor. Nay, now you're here alone, I'll speak my mind.