Of Salisbury, who can report of him,
That winter lion, who in rage forgets
Aged contusions and all brush of time,
And, like a gallant in the brow of youth,
Repairs him with occasion? This happy day
Is not itself, nor have we won one foot,
If Salisbury be lost.
Who can speak of Salisbury? That winter lion—who in his rage forgets all his old wounds and the wear of age, and like a young man in his prime, rises up ready for action whenever needed? This happy day means nothing, we haven't won anything, if we lose Salisbury.
What about Salisbury? He's like an old lion in winter who forgets all his aches and pains when he gets angry. He fights like he's still young. This whole victory means nothing if we lose him.
salisbury is our heart. old lion who fights like a young man. we lose him, we lose everything.
The last scene gives Richard two things to do: report saving Salisbury three times, and be present for the Yorkist victory. This follows directly from 5-2, where he killed Somerset with cold philosophical satisfaction. Shakespeare is doing something precise here: he is establishing that Richard is not reducible to a single note. He kills without remorse and protects without hesitation. He announces 'princes kill' and then spends a battle as a human shield for an old man. The word 'bestrid' — standing over a fallen fighter to shield him — was the highest act of battlefield loyalty in medieval warfare. Richard bestrid Salisbury three times. This is the seed of the Richard who, in Henry VI Part 3 and Richard III, will be simultaneously the most terrifying and most fascinating figure in all of Shakespeare: a man of genuine courage and genuine cruelty, operating by his own code, which overlaps with ordinary morality only when convenient.
My noble father,
Three times today I holp him to his horse,
Three times bestrid him; thrice I led him off,
Persuaded him from any further act;
But still, where danger was, still there I met him,
And like rich hangings in a homely house,
So was his will in his old feeble body.
But, noble as he is, look where he comes.
My noble father, three times today I've helped him back onto his horse, three times I've stood over him protecting him, three times I've led him away and tried to convince him to stop fighting. But whenever there was danger, he was always there. And like rich tapestries in a poor house, his strong will stayed in his old, weak body. But noble as he is, look where he comes now.
Father, I've had to help him back on his horse three times today. Three times I've stood between him and the enemy, and three times I've tried to pull him away from the fighting and convince him to rest. But he keeps going back into danger. It's like his noble spirit is too grand for his old, tired body—he's like fine tapestries in a simple house. And here he comes now.
dad, i saved him three times. he keeps going back to fight. his will is stronger than his old body. there he is.
Salisbury's line — 'Well, lords, we have not got that which we have' — is a logical paradox that makes perfect sense in context. You have not truly secured a thing until it is locked in; a battlefield victory over an army that can reconstitute itself is not a victory, it is a pause. The Wars of the Roses will prove him right at every turn: armies disperse, regroup, change sides, and come back. Every Yorkist victory will be answered by a Lancastrian recovery. Every king who wins will eventually lose. Salisbury is the oldest person on the Yorkist side, and his caution comes from having lived through enough English politics to know that nothing is ever finally won. He fought brilliantly today and he is already looking past it. This is what experience looks like, and it's why York values him above everyone else in this scene.
By th’ mass, so did we all. I thank you, Richard.
God knows how long it is I have to live,
And it hath pleased him that three times today
You have defended me from imminent death.
Well, lords, we have not got that which we have;
’Tis not enough our foes are this time fled,
Being opposites of such repairing nature.
By God's mass, we all did our part. I thank you, Richard. God knows how much longer I have to live, and He has arranged that three times today you've saved me from certain death. Well, lords, we haven't secured what we should have. It's not enough that our enemies fled this time, because they're the kind of enemies who come back stronger.
By God, we all fought hard. Thank you, Richard, for saving my life three times today. God knows how much longer I've got to live anyway. But lords, we need to think about what comes next. It's not enough that our enemies ran away this time—they're the type that come back even stronger.
thanks richard. you saved me three times. but we haven't won yet. these enemies come back. we need to finish this.
I know our safety is to follow them;
For, as I hear, the King is fled to London
To call a present court of parliament.
Let us pursue him ere the writs go forth.
What says Lord Warwick? Shall we after them?
I know we'll be safe only if we pursue them. The King has fled to London to call an immediate parliament, I hear. Let's chase after him before the official writs are sent out. What do you say, Warwick? Should we go after them?
We need to chase them down to stay safe. The King's run off to London to call parliament right away. We need to get moving before he can send out official orders. What do you think, Warwick? Should we go after them?
we have to chase them. the king's in london calling parliament. we need to go now before orders go out. warwick?
After them? Nay, before them, if we can.
Now, by my hand, lords, ’twas a glorious day.
Saint Albans battle won by famous York
Shall be eternized in all age to come.
Go after them? No, get ahead of them if we can. Now, by my oath, lords, this has been a glorious day. The battle of Saint Albans won by famous York will be remembered and celebrated forever.
After them? Better yet, let's get ahead of them. This has been a glorious day, I tell you. The battle of Saint Albans—won by York—this is going to be remembered forever.
beat them there. this day will live forever. york won at saint albans. history.
Henry VI Part 2 ends on a note of Yorkist triumph — drums, flags, the declaration of eternal glory. But Shakespeare's audience in the early 1590s knew their history. The Battle of St. Albans in 1455 was the first engagement of a war that would last, on and off, for three decades, through nine more major battles, through the deaths of nearly every person present in this final scene, through the deposition and murder of Henry VI, the brief reign of Edward IV, and finally the emergence of Richard III. The 'glorious day' Warwick is celebrating is the opening move of an almost incomprehensible catastrophe. The play ends with momentum rather than resolution because the story has no resolution — only the next catastrophe. Henry VI Part 3 opens where this one closes, with York marching to London, his sons at his side, the crown finally within reach. The drums and flags of the final exeunt are not a victory march. They are a war starting.
The Reckoning
This is a coda — a brief, necessary exhale after the violence of 5-2. But it does real work. It establishes that the battle is won but the war is not settled: Salisbury's warning ('We have not got that which we have') is strategically exact. York's instinct — pursue the king before parliament can organize — is the move that will define the next phase of the conflict. And Richard's account of saving Salisbury three times is quietly revealing: the boy who just defined himself as someone who kills rather than prays also spent the battle protecting an old man. He is not simply a monster. He is deeply complicated, and the play ends with that complexity in place.
If this happened today…
After the hostile takeover succeeds, the victors regroup in a conference room down the hall. The CFO is dead, the CEO has fled to London. The old chairman, who shouldn't have been in the fight at all, walks in on his own — his grandson had to physically lift him back onto his feet three times during the board confrontation. Everyone agrees the win is incomplete: the other side is already calling an emergency board meeting in London. The eldest son says: we have to get on the plane before they can lock in a quorum. The nephew says: this day will be in the company history books. Sound the drums.