in Peele's former plays.

Captain Stukeley was a more interesting character off the stage than on;
the details of his life may be found in Fuller, or in Dyce's prefatory
note to the play in his edition of Peele's works. The surprising thing
is that he was not hissed from the boards by indignant patriots. But his
exploits, and his thoroughly English pride, seem to have awakened the
sympathies of his countrymen, for his memory was cherished as that of a
popular hero. His traitorous intention to conquer Ireland for the Pope,
however, receives noble reproof from Peele in the mouths of Don Diego
Lopez and King Sebastian. The latter's speech well deserves perusal. But
we have quoted sufficiently already from Peele's patriotic eloquence.

The extravagant language of the Moor has been made immortal by
Shakespeare: a line from one of his extraordinary speeches to his wife,
Calipolis, in exile, is adapted by Pistol to his own rhetorical use
(_Second Part of Henry the Fourth_, II. iv). To show the
inconsistencies over which rant unblushingly careers, we give two
consecutive speeches by this terrible fellow.

[THE MOOR'S SON _has just given a highly coloured description of
the enemy's forces._]

_The Moor._ Away, and let me hear no more of this.
Why, boy,
Are we successor to the great Abdelmunen,
Descended from th' Arabian Muly Xarif,
And shall we be afraid of Bassas and of bugs,[61]
Raw-head and Bloody-bone?
Boy, seest here this scimitar by my side?
Sith they begin to bathe in blood,
Blood be the theme whereon our time shall tread:
Such slaughter with my weapon shall I make
As through the stream and bloody channels deep
Our Moors shall sail in ships and pinnaces
From Tangier-shore unto the gates of Fess.

_The Moor's Son._ And of those slaughter'd bodies shall thy son
A hugy tower erect like Nimrod's frame,
To threaten those unjust and partial gods
That to Abdallas' lawful seed deny
A long, a happy, and triumphant reign.

[_At this point a_ MESSENGER _enters, reports general disaster, and
urges flight._]

_The Moor._ Villain, what dreadful sound of death and flight
Is this wherewith thou dost afflict our ears?
But if there be no safety to abide
The favour, fortune and success of war,
Away in haste! Roll on, my chariot-wheels,
Restless till I be safely set in shade
Of some unhaunted place, some