YORK.
The deadly-handed Clifford slew my steed,
But match to match I have encountered him
And made a prey for carrion kites and crows
Even of the bonny beast he loved so well.
Enter old Clifford.
WARWICK.
Of one or both of us the time is come.
YORK.
Hold, Warwick, seek thee out some other chase,
For I myself must hunt this deer to death.
WARWICK.
Then, nobly, York; ’tis for a crown thou fight’st.
As I intend, Clifford, to thrive today,
It grieves my soul to leave thee unassailed.
[Exit.]
CLIFFORD.
What seest thou in me, York? Why dost thou pause?
YORK.
With thy brave bearing should I be in love,
But that thou art so fast mine enemy.
CLIFFORD.
Nor should thy prowess want praise and esteem,
But that ’tis shown ignobly and in treason.
YORK.
So let it help me now against thy sword
As I in justice and true right express it!