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.

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.

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.