n History, and must mark it as
a retrograde movement in the development of perfect drama. One extremely
valuable contribution of these History Plays was their insistence upon
absolute humanness in the characters. To present a Prince Hal, a King
John or a Faulconbridge, a Queen Elinor or a Constance, as mere
mouthpieces or merely royal persons would have been to court immediate
failure before an audience of Englishmen imbued with intense pride in
the life and vigour of their country, their countrymen, and their Queen.

Of the three following extracts from _The Troublesome Reign of King
John_ the first is a speech which might well have found a place in
Shakespeare's first scene, where Faulconbridge is questioned as to his
parentage, the inheritance depending on his answer; the second is from
one of John's dying speeches, full of remorse for his bad government,
and may be compared dramatically with the better known speeches, full
only of outcry against his bodily affliction; the third illustrates the
spirit of patriotic pride which glows in every scene.

[PHILIP (_the_ BASTARD), _fallen into a trance of thought, speaks
aside to himself._]

_Quo me rapit tempestas?_
What wind of honour blows this fury forth?
Or whence proceed these fumes of majesty?
Methinks I hear a hollow echo sound
That Philip is the son unto a king.
The whistling leaves upon the trembling trees
Whistle in consort I am Richard's son:
The bubbling murmur of the water's fall
Records _Philippus Regis Filius_:
Birds in their flight make music with their wings,
Filling the air with glory of my birth:
Birds, bubbles, leaves, and mountain's echo, all
Ring in mine ears that I am Richard's son.
Fond man! ah, whither art thou carried?
How are thy thoughts ywrapt in honour's heaven?
Forgetful what thou art, and whence thou camest.
Thy father's land cannot maintain these thoughts;
These thoughts are far unfitting Fauconbridge:
And well they may; for why, this mounting mind
Doth soar too high to stoop to Fauconbridge.

2.

[KING JOHN, _feeling the near approach of death, is filled with
remorse._]

Methinks I see a catalogue of sin
Wrote by a fiend in marble characters,
The least enough to lose my part in heaven.
Methinks the devil whispers in mine ears
And tells me 'tis in vain to hope for grace,
I must be damned for Arthur's