“Messages continued to arrive from the Earl of Warwick, urging Londoners to hold firm for King Harry. Marguerite d'Anjou and her son were expected to land at any time, while from St Albans, Edward sent word that Harry of Lancaster was to be considered a prisoner of state. At that, John Stockton, the Mayor of London, contracted a diplomatic virus and took to his bed.”

“Harry closed his eyes. He never wanted to open them again. His heart sent this message to his molecules: "For reasons obvious to all of us, this galaxy is dissolved!”

“Announcer - "And where are you from Pete?"Pete Townshend - "London, I'm from London."Announcer - "London where, exactly?"Pete - "London, England”

“Suppose the ambassador from the French comes back:Tells Harry that the King doth offer him Katherine his daughter;and with her to dowry some petty and unprofitable dukedoms:The offer likes not;”

“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.York: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?Warwick:After them! nay, before them, if we can.Now, by my faith, lords, 'twas a glorious day:Saint Alban's battle won by famous YorkShall be eternized in all age to come.Sound drums and trumpets, and to London all:And more such days as these to us befall!”

“Well?" Ron said finally, looking up at Harry. "How was it?"Harry considered it for a moment. "Wet," he said truthfully.Ron made a noise that might have indicated jubilation or disgust, it was hard to tell."Because she was crying," Harry continued heavily."Oh," said Ron, his smile faded slightly. "Are you that bad at kissing?""Dunno," said Harry, who hadn't considered this, and immediately felt rather worried. "Maybe I am.”