And yet braue Warwicke I remaine aliue,
25 But I did kill his horse he lou’d so well,
The boniest gray that ere was bred in North.
Enter Clifford, and Warwicke offers to fight with him.
Hold Warwicke, and seeke thee out some other chase,
My selfe will hunt this deare to death.
[♦] War. Braue Lord, tis for a Crowne thou fights,
30 Clifford farewell, as I entend to prosper well to day,
It grieues my soule to leaue thee vnassaild. Exet Warwicke.
Yorke. Now Clifford, since we are singled here alone,