Alarum. Retreat. Enter Yorke, Richard, Warwicke, and Soldiers, with Drum & Colours.
Yorke. Of Salsbury, who can report of him, That Winter Lyon, who in rage forgets Aged contusions, and all brush of Time: And like a Gallant, in the brow of youth, Repaires him with Occasion. This happy day Is not it selfe, nor haue we wonne one foot, If Salsbury be lost.
Rich. My Noble Father: Three times to day I holpe him to his horse, Three times bestrid him: Thrice I led him off, Perswaded 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, looke where he comes.
Enter Salisbury.
Sal. Now by my Sword, well hast thou fought to day: By'th'Masse so did we all. I thanke you Richard. God knowes how long it is I haue to liue: And it hath pleas'd him that three times to day
You haue defended me from imminent death. Well Lords, we haue not got that which we haue, 'Tis not enough our foes are this time fled, Being opposites of such repayring Nature.
Yorke. I know our safety is to follow them, For (as I heare) the King is fled to London, To call a present Court of Parliament: Let vs pursue him ere the Writs go forth. What sayes Lord Warwicke, shall we after them?
War. After them: nay before them if we can: Now by my hand (Lords) 'twas a glorious day. Saint Albons battell wonne by famous Yorke, Shall be eterniz'd in all Age to come. Sound Drumme and Trumpets, and to London all, Exeunt.And more such dayes as these, to vs befall.
