Margaret of Anjou: I have ominous feet.
Edward: I’ve just appeared out of nowhere and snuck into London while no-one was looking.
Elizabeth: My boyfriend’s back and you’re gonna be in trouble!
Edward: Now let’s fuck!
Isobel: I’m a limping gazelle.
Warwick: Suck it up, Duchess!
Margaret Beaufort: I’m the centre of the universe and so is my son.
Stafford: You’re not, but I love you anyway. You selfish cow.
Margaret of Anjou: Come here. Anne, and let me insult you.
Jaquetta: Come. my witchy daughter. Bring the baby witch and we shall raise a mist!
George: Warwick’s got three times as many men as we have.
Edward: Well, I counted 15, so that puts his army at 45. And where did this bloody mist come from? I can’t see my hand in front of my face!
Messenger: Message for you, my lord.
Warwick: Who from?
Messenger: He didn’t say. He wants to meet you at the Black Horse Pub and Restaurant. Said it was important.
Second Messenger: Your Grace, chap says he has to talk to you. Urgent, he reckons.
Edward: I’m about to fight a really lame battle!
Second Messenger: He said it’ll only take a moment.
Interlude in the Black Horse
Montagu: What the hell’s going on, brother?
Warwick: About to fight the battle of Barnet. Why?
Montagu: Without me?
Hastings: I’m not there, either. I’m surprised none of you has noticed.
Montagu: It’s not the only thing they’ve got wrong. Remember Lord Welles? The Queen with real magical powers? William Herbert walking and talking two years after his head was cut off? Did none of it make you stop and think?
Warwick: I remember I was on my way to Alnwick Castle, then suddenly I was riding through a forest with Edward.
Edward: Yes, it’s all rather odd, isn’t it?
Gloucester: Well, I heard it’s because the truth can be pretty boring.
Hastings: Or that the average television viewer is too stupid to understand the real complexities of real history.
Warwick: So, John, any chance you can join me? Might even up the odds a little.
Edward: Well, I’m down Hastings. Seems pretty fair to me.
Gloucester: Speaking of Hastings…
Hastings: You’ll just have to make do with a Wydeville or two, I suppose.
Gloucester: It won’t be the same!
Warwick: Well, I’m not enjoying being a total prick married to an ice queen with two clueless bints as daughters.
Clarence: A clueless bint and a limping gazelle.
Warwick: And what’s all this ‘kingmaker’ nonsense?
Edward: Oh, stop moaning, cousin! You’ll be out of it quicker than I will. What with your hardened troop of 45 soldiers up against my 15.
Warwick: Can I hold you to that?
Edward: Let’s just get back to it, ok? I’ll see what I can do.
Anne: Daddy’s dead!
Edward Prince of Wales: Snarl, scowl, glower, snarl.
Anne: They’re not going to feel sad when you die, the way you’re going.
Edward Prince of Wales; Don’t care!
Anne: I want Mummy!
Margaret of Anjou: Bitch, snide, snark, bitch.
Margaret Beaufort: Now, I see dead people!
Edward: Let’s all be magnanimous and sentimental in victory, even though we don’t actually stop by London on the way to Tewkesbury.
Gloucester; Yes, let’s!
Clarence: Do we have to? I’d rather be sulky and snidy.
Margaret of Anjou: I’m a crazy French bitch!
Lancastrian army: Yay!
Margaret of Anjou: The time has come… to lipsynch for your lives.
Messenger: We’ve lost! Aaaaarrrrgh!
Margaret of Anjou: Run away!
Soldiers: Get off your horse woman, and get ready for bad Yorkist sex!
Gloucester: Don’t worry, Anne! I shall save you.
Margaret of Anjou: Leave me alone, little hobbit.
Margaret Beaufort: I know you’re dying, husband, but I just need to think only about myself for a bit. Is that all right? Bye.
Jasper Tudor: I’m Welsh and sexy.
Margaret Beaufort; Look after your uncle, son, he’s Welsh and sexy.
Gloucester: I’ll take care of you, Anne.
Anne: Will that involve a healing shag?
Gloucester: I rather think it will.
Margaret Beaufort: My husband’s dead. I wish I’d been nicer to him now.
Elizabeth: *gasp* I’ve just watched my husband smother Jesus in his underwear!