way classical and medieval writers, yet not one quotation out of all his ponderous learning but lends strength or illustration to his argument. Every page is marked by keen irony, profound and often gloomy humour, and by strong and excellent sense; while throughout the book there runs a deep undertone of earnestness that fits well with its concluding sentences, and at times rises into a grave eloquence of quite singular charm. The 'fantastic old great man' is certain of immortality as one of the greatest English writers. Johnson said Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy was the only book that ever took him out of bed two hours sooner than he wished to rise; and Charles Lamb shows plainly its influence on his own style as well as in his direct imitation, the 'curious Fragments,' professedly extracted from Burton's Common-Place Book. Milton's L'Allegro and Il Penseroso owed much to 'The Author's Abstract of Melancholy' prefixed (in verse) to his book, and Ferriar in 1798 pointed out to the world the indebtedness of Sterne. Byron speaks of its great value as materials 'for literary conversation,' but Wood had long before pointed out this merit: "Tis a book so full of variety of reading, that gentlemen who have lost their time and are put to a push for invention, may furnish themselves with matter for common or scholastical discourse and writing.' But in spite of Burton's prophylactic apology, Democritus has some right to complain of the use made of his name: the learned recluse of Christ Church did not follow the best authorities on Democritus, and would hardly have called himself 'Democritus Junior' had he fully realised how wide and deep was the gulf between himself and the philosopher of Abdera. All he meant by calling himself Democritus was that he laughed at the follies of mankind. Now, it so happens that this tradition about the original Democritus is late and unauthentic; so is the cognate one that opposes him, as the laughing philosopher,' to Heraclitus, 'the weeping philosopher.' Democritus (senior) seems to have been a man of a healthy, happy disposition, who habitually looked at the cheerful side of things: the false proverb is but a perversion of this fact. Democritus laughed, not because he was caustic, bitter, satirical, but because he was good-humoured. Democritus, the predecessor of Epicurus, was a thorough-going atomist-his gods were but aggregations of atoms a degree or two more powerful than men, and there is no design in nature--whereas Burton was an orthodox, if not perfervid, Christian and Churchman. Democritus was the greatest traveller of his time; Burton spent all his life in his college. Democritus learnt from living men, not from books; Burton was the very king of bookworms. But both were exceptionally gifted, learned, good men; and Burton may be excused for following the multitude in taking Democritus as characteristically 'a laugher at human follies.' Burton is quite wrongly regarded as a pessimist to be ranked with the Ecclesiast, with Buddhis: sages, with Schopenhauer, and with Hartmann. He did not regard life as essentially and unredeemably evil the scholar who wrote to relieve his own depression, who devoted one great division of his work to the cure of melancholy, obviously regarded the miseries that do accompany and flow from love, hypochondriasis, superstition, madness, jealousy, and solitude as separable accidents of human nature, or aberrations that ought to be, and can be, guarded against. He was a man subject to 'the vapours,' in short, and though between whiles cheerful enough, had the moody temperament which led him to dwell on the darker side of life, especially after he had constituted the Anatomy of Melancholy his life-work. And he set himself calmly, not unsympathetically, but candidly, learnedly, even facetiously, to anatomise human folly and perversity. To a man of his ingenuity at was possible to bring almost everything to bear on his pet subject; and hence in his great work we have the most marvellous olla podrida that exists in book form, yet a book with a very definite plan and an unmistakable purpose. The multitudinoes quotations, that look at times as if discharged at random from a series of commonplace books, are never wholly irrelevant any more than the frequent and amazing digressions, which are a feature of the book. And though the piles of citations make many of the sentences inordinately long, formless. and almost structureless, Burton when he is writing 'out of his own head' writes tersely, smoothly, and melodiously beyond many of his contemporaries. He is profoundly humorous in another sense than Wood's; his grave and profound humour is, like Sir Thomas Browne's, a marked characteristic. In the copious preface, 'Democritus to the Reader,' Burton explains his choice of a pseudonym or nom de guerre, and incidentally gives an interesting account of himself and his studies (we follow the text and spelling of the fifth edition of 1638): Democritus, as he is described by Hippocrates and Laërtius, was a little wearish [withered] old man, very melancholy by nature, averse from company in his latter daies, and much given to solitarinesse, a famous philosopher in his age, co@vus with Socrates, wholly addicted to his studies at the last, and to a private life; writ many excellent works, a great divine, according to the divinitie of those times, an expert physician, a politician, an excellent mathematician, as Diacosmus and the rest of his works do witness. He was much delighted with the studies of husbandrie, saith Columella; and often I find him cited by Constantinus and others treating of that subject. He knew the natures, differences of all beasts, plants, fishes, birds; and, as some say, could understand the tunes and voyces of them. In a word, he was omnifariam doctus, a general scholar, a great student; and, to the intent he might better contemplate, I find it related by some that he put out his eyes, and was in his old age voluntarily blinde, yet saw more than all Greece besides, and writ of everie subject: Nihil in toto opificie naturæ de quo non scripsit: a man of an excellent wit, profound conceit; and to attain knowledge the better, in his younger years he travelled to Egypt and Athens, to conferre with learned men, admired of some, despised of others. After a wandring life, he setled at Abdera, a town in Thrace, and was sent for thither to be their law-maker, recorder, or town-clerke, as some will; or as others, he was there bred and born. Howsoever it was, there he lived at last in a garden in the suburbs, wholly betaking himself to his studies and a private life, saving that sometimes he would walk down to the haven, and laugh heartily at such varietie of ridiculous objects, which there he saw. Such a one was Democritus. But, in the mean time, how doth this concerne me, or upon what reference doe I usurpe his habit? I confesse, indeed, that to compare my self unto him for ought I have yet said, were both impudencie and arrogancie. I do not presume to make any parallel. Antistat mihi millibus trecentis: parvus sum; nullus sum; altum nec spiro, nec spero. Yet thus much I will say of my self, and that I hope without all suspicion of pride or selfconceit: I have lived a silent, sedentary, solitary, private life, mihi et Musis, in the university, as long almost as Xenocrates in Athens, ad senectam fere, to learne wisdome as he did, penned up most part in my studie: for I have been brought up a student in the most flourishing colledge of Europe, augustissimo collegio, and can bragge with Jovius, almost, in eâ luce domicilii Vaticani, totius orbis celeberrimi, per 37 annos multa opportunaque didici; for thirty years I have continued (having the use of as good libraries as ever he had) a scholar, and would be therefore loth either, by living as a drone, to be an unprofitable or unworthie member of so learned and noble a societie, or to write that which should be any way dishonourable to such a royall and ample foundation. Something I have done though by my profession a divine, yet turbine raptus ingenii, as he said, out of a running wit, an unconstant, unsetled mind, I had a great desire (not able to attain to a superficiall skill in any) to have some smattering in all, to be aliquis in omnibus, nullus in singulis; which Plato commends, out of him Lipsius approves and furthers, as fit to be imprinted in all curious wits, not to be a slave of one science, or dwell altogether in one subject, as most do, but to rove abroad, centum puer artium, to have an oare in every mans boat, to taste of every dish, and to sip of every cup; which, saith Montaigne, was well performed by Aristotle, and his learned countrey-man Adrian Turnebus. This roving humor (though not with like successe) I have ever had, and, like a ranging spaniell that barks at every bird he sees, leaving his game, I have followed all, saving that which I should, and may justly complain and truly, qui ubique est, nusquam est, which Gesner did in modesty; that I have read many books, but to little purpose, for want of good method, I have confusedly tumbled over divers authors in our libraries with small profit, for want of art, order, memorie, judgement. I never travelled but in map or card, in which my unconfined thoughts have freely expatiated, as having ever been especially delighted with the study of cosmography. Saturn was lord of my geni. ture, culminating, &c., and Mars principal significator of manners, in partile conjunction with mine ascendent; both fortunate in their houses, &c. I am not poore, I am not rich; nihil est, nihil deest; I have little, I want nothing all my treasure is in Minerva's tower. Greater : preferment as I could never get, so am I not in debt for it. I have a competency (laus Deo) from my noble and munificent patrons. Though I live still a collegiat student, as Democritus in his garden, and lead a monastique life, ipse mihi theatrum, sequestred from those tumults and troubles of the world, et tamquam in speculâ positus (as he said), in some high place above you all, I hear and see what is done abroad, how others run, ride, turmoile, and macerate themselves in court and countrey, far from those wrangling lawsuits, aulæ vanitatem, fori ambitionem, ridere mecum soleo: I laugh at all, only secure, lest my suit go amisse, my ships perish, corn and cattle miscarry, trade decay, I have no wife nor children, good or bad, to provide for; a meere spectator of other mens fortunes and adventures, and how they act their parts, which me thinks are diversely presented unto me, as from a common theatre or scene. I hear new news every day : and those ordinary rumours of war, plagues, fires, inundations, thefts, murders, massacres, meteors, comets, spectrums, prodigies, apparitions, of towns taken, cities besieged in France, Germany, Turky, Persia, Poland, &c., daily musters and preparations, and such like, which these tempestuous times affoord, battles fought, so many men slain, monomachies, shipwracks, piracies, and seafights, peace, leagues, stratagems, and fresh alarums. A vast confusion of vows, wishes, actions, edicts, petitions, law-suits, pleas, laws, proclamations, complaints, grievances are daily brought to our ears. New books everie day, pamphlets, currantoes [gazettes], stories, whole catalogues of volumes of all sorts, new paradoxes, opinions, schismes, heresies, controversies in philosophie, religion, &c. Now come tidings of weddings, maskings, mummeries, entertainments, jubilies, embassies, tilts, and tournaments, trophies, triumphs, revels, sports, playes: then again, as in a new shifted scene, treasons, cheating tricks, robberies, enormous villanies in all kinds, funerals, burials, death of princes, new discoveries, expeditions; now comicall, then tragicall matters. To day we hear of new lords and officers created, to morrow of some great men deposed, and then again of fresh honors conferred: one is let loose, another imprisoned: one purchaseth, another breaketh he thrives, his neighbour turns bankrupt; now plentie, then againe dearth and famine; one runs, another rides, wrangles, laughs, weeps, &c. Thus I daily hear, and such like, both private and publike news. Amidst the gallantrie and miserie of the world, jollitie, pride, perplexities and cares, simplicitie and villanie, subtletie, knaverie, candor and integritie, mutually mixt and offering themselves, I rub on privus privatus: as I have still lived, so I now continue statu quo prius, left to a solitary life, and mine own domestick discontents; saving that sometimes, ne quid mentiar, as Diogenes went into the citie and Democritus to the haven, to see fashions, I did for my recreation now and then walk abroad, look into the world, and could not choose but make some little observation, non tam sagax observator, ac simplex recitator, not, as they did, to scoffe or laugh at all, but with a mixt passion : Bilem, sæpe jocum vestri movere tumultus. I did sometime laugh and scoffe with Lucian, and satyrically taxe with Menippus, lament with Heraclitus, sometimes again I was petulanti splene cachinno, and then again, urere bilis jecur, I was much moved to see that abuse which I could not amend in which passion howsoever I may sympathize with him or them, 'tis for no such respect I shroud my self under his name, but either in an unknown habit to assume a little more libertie and freedome of speech, or if you will needs know, for that reason and only respect which Hippocrates relates at large in his epistle to Damegetus, wherein he doth expresse how, comming to visit him one day, he found Democritus in his garden at Abdera, in the suburbs, under a shadie bower, with a book on his knees, busie at his studie, sometime writing, sometime walking. The subject of his book was melancholy and madnes: about him lay the carcasses of many several beasts, newly by him cut up and anatomized; not that he did contemn God's creatures, as he told Hippocrates, but to find out the seat of this atra bilis, or melancholy, whence it proceeds, and how it was engendred in mens bodies, to the intent he might better cure it in himself, by his writings and observations teach others how to prevent and avoid it. Which good intent of his Hippocrates highly commended, Democritus Junior is therefore bold to imitate, and, because he left it imperfect, and it is now lost, quasi succenturiator Democriti, to revive again, prosecute, and finish in this treatise. If any man except against the matter or manner of treating of this my subject, and will demand a reason of it, I can alleage more than one. I write of melancholy, by being busie to avoid melancholy. There is no greater cause of melancholy than idlenesse, no better cure than businesse, as Rhasis holds: and howbeit stultus labor est ineptiarum, to be busied in toyes is to small purpose, yet hear that divine Seneca, better aliud agere quam nihil, better doe to no end than nothing. I writ therefore and busied myself in this playing labour, otiosâque diligentiâ, ut vitarem torporem feriandi, with Vectius in Macrobius, atque otium in utile verterem negotium; -Simul et jucunda et idonea dicere vitæ, To this end I write, like them, saith Lucian, that recite to trees and declaime to pillers, for want of auditors; as Paulus Ægineta ingenuously confesseth, not that any thing was unknown or omitted, but to exercise my self (which course if some took, I think it would be good for their bodies, and much better for their souls); or peradventure as others do, for fame to shew myself (Scire tuum nihil est, nisi te scire hoc sciat alter). I might be of Thucydides opinion, to know a thing and not to expresse it, is all one as if he knew it not. When I first took this task in hand, et, quod ait ille, impellente genio negotium suscepi, this I aymed at, vel ut lenirem animum scribendo, to ease my minde by writing, for I had gravidum cor, fætum caput, a kind of impostume in my head, which I was very desirous to be unladen of, and could imagine no fitter evacuation than this. Besides I might not well refrain; for, ubi dolor, ibi digitus, one must needs scratch where it itches. I was not a little offended with this maladie, shall I say my mistris melancholy, my Ægeria, or my malus genius; and for that cause, as he that is stung with a scorpion, I would expel clavum clavo, comfort one sorrow with another, idlenes with idlenes, ut ex vipera theriacum, make an antidote out of that which was the prime cause of my disease. Or as he did, of whom Felix Plater speaks, that thought he had some of Aristophanes frogs in his belly, still crying Breccekex, coax, coax, oop, oop, and for that cause studied physick seven years, and travelled over most part of Europe, to ease himself; To do my self good, I turned over such physicians as our libraries would affoord, or my private friends impart, and have taken this pains. Symptomes of Love. would Bocace hath a pleasant tale to this purpose, which he borrowed from the Greekes, and which Beroaldus hath turned into Latine, Bebelius in verse, of Cymon and Iphigenia. This Cymon was a foole, a proper man ví person, and the governour of Cyprus' sonne, but a very asse; insomuch that his father being ashamed of him sent him to a farme house he had in the country, to be brought up; where by chance, as his manner was, walking alone, hee espied a gallant young gentlewoman named Iphigenia, a burgomaster's daughter of Cyprus, with het maid, by a brooke side, in a little thicket, fast asleepe in her smock, where she had newly bathed her selfe When Cymon saw her, he stood leaning on his staff, gaping on her immoveable, and in a maze: at last he fell so farre in love with the glorious object, that he began to rouze himselfe up; to bethinke what he was; needs follow her to the citty, and for her sake began to be civill, to learne to sing and dance, to play on instru ments, and got all those gentleman-like qualities and complements, in a short space, which his friends were most glad of. In briefe, hee became from an idiot and: clowne, to bee one of the most compleat gentlemen in Cyprus; did many valorous exploits, and all for the love of Mistris Iphigenia. In a word, I may say this much of them all, let them be never so clownish, rude and horrid. Grobians and sluts, if once they be in love, they wil be most neat and spruce; for, Omnibus rebus, et nitific nitoribus antevenit amor; they will follow the fashion. beginne to tricke up, and to have a good opinion of themselves; venustatum enim mater Venus; a ship is not so long a rigging, as a young gentlewoman a trimming up her selfe against her sweet-heart comes. A painter's shop, a flowry meadow, no so gracious aspect in Nature's storehouse as a young maid, nubilis puella, a Novitsa [novizza is a Venetian word for a new-married bride] or Venetian bride, that lookes for an husband; or a young man that is her suiter; composed looks, composed gate. cloathes, gestures, actions, all composed; all the graces, elegances, in the world, are in her face. Their best robes, ribbines, chaines, iewels, lawnes, linnens, laces, spangles, must come on, præter quam res patitur student elegantia, they are beyond all measure coy, nice, and too curious on a sudden. 'Tis all their study, all their busines, how to wear their cloathes neat, to be polite and terse, and to set out themselves. No sooner doth a young man see his sweet-heart comming, but he smugges up himselfe, pulls up his cloake, now falne about his shoulders, ties his garters, points, sets his band, cuffs, slicks his hair, twires his beard, &c. (From Part 111. sect. ii.) Study & Cure for Melancholy. Amongst exercises or recreations of the minde within doors, there is none so generall, so aptly to be applyed to all sorts of men, so fit & proper to expell idlenesse and melancholy, as that of study: studia senectutem oblectant, adolescentiam agunt, secundas res ornant, adversis perfugium et solatium præbent, domi delectan', &c. finde the rest in Tully pro Archia Poeta. What s full of content as to read, walke, and see mappes pictures, statues, jewels, marbles, which some so much magnifie as those that Phidias made of old, so exquisite and pleasing to be beheld, that, as Chrysostome thinketh, 'if any man be sickly, troubled in minde, or that cannot sleep for griefe, and shall but stand over against one of Phidias' images, he will forget all care, or whatsoever else may molest him, in an instant?' There bee those as much taken with Michael Angelo's, Raphael de Urbino's, Francesco Francia's pieces, and many of those Italian and Dutch painters which were excellent in their ages; and esteeme of it as a most pleasing sight to view those neat architectures, devices, scutchions, coats of armes, read such bookes, to peruse old coynes of severall sorts in a faire gallery, artificiall workes, perspective glasses, old reliques, Roman antiquities, variety of colours. A good picture is falsa veritas, et muta poesis, and though (as Vives saith), artificialia delectant, sed mox fastidimus, artificiall toyes please but for a time; yet who is he that will not be moved with them for the present? When Achilles was tormented and sad for the losse of his dear friend Patroclus, his mother Thetis brought him a most elaborate and curious buckler made by Vulcan, in which were engraven sunne, moone, starres, planets, sea, land, men fighting, running, riding, women scolding, hils, dales, towns, castles, brooks, rivers, trees, &c.; with many pretty landskips and perspective peeces : with sight of which he was infinitely delighted. . . King James (1605), when he came to see our university of Oxford, and amongst other ædifices, now went to view that famous library, renued by S. Thomas Bodley, in imitation of Alexander, at his departure, brake out into that noble speech: 'If I were not a king, I would be an university man; and if it were so that I must be a prisoner, if I might have my wish, I would desire to have no other prison then that library, and to be chained together with so many good authors.' So sweet is the delight of study, the more learning they have-as hee that hath a dropsie, the more he drinks, the thirstier hee is the more they covet to learne, and the last day is prioris discipulus; harsh at first, learning is radices amara, but fructus dulces, according to that of Isocrates, pleasant at last; the longer they live, the more they are enamoured with the Muses. Heinsius, the keeper of the library at Leiden in Holland, was mewed up in it all the year long; and that which, to thy thinking, should have bred a loathing, caused in him a greater liking. 'I no sooner,' saith he, 'come into the library, but I bolt the doore to mee, excluding Lust, Ambition, Avarice, and all such vices, whose nurse is Idlenesse, the mother of Ignorance, and Melancholy her selfe; and in the very lap of eternity, amongst so many divine souls, I take my seat, with so lofty a spirit and sweet content, that I pity all our great ones and rich men, that know not this happinesse.' I am not ignorant in the meanetime, notwithstanding this which I have said, how barbarously and basely for the most part our ruder gentry esteeme of libraries and books, how they neglect and contemne so great a treasure, so inestimable a benefit, as Æsop's cocke did the jewell hee found in the dunghill; and all through error, ignorance, and want of education. And 'tis a wonder withall to observe how much they will vainely cast away in unnecessary expences, quot modis percant (saith Erasmus) magnatibus pecuniæ, quantum absumant alea, scorta, compotationes, prosectiones non necessaria, pompa, bella quæsita, ambitio, colax, morio, ludio, &c., what in hawkes, hounds, law-suites, vaine building, gurmundizing, drinking, sports, playes, pastimes, &c. (From Part 11. sect. ii.) Love of Gaming and Pleasures Immoderate. It is a wonder to see how many poore, distressed, miserable wretches one shall meet almost in every path and street, begging for an almes, that have been well descended, and sometimes in flourishing estate; now ragged, tattered, and ready to be starved, lingring out a painfull life in discontent and griefe of body and minde, and all through immoderate lust, gaming, pleasure, and riot. 'Tis the common end of all sensuall epicures and bruitish prodigals, that are stupified and carried away headlong with their severall pleasures and lusts. Cebes, in his Table, S. Ambrose in his second booke of Abel and Cain, and amongst the rest, Lucian, in his tract, De Mercede Conductis, hath excellent well deciphered such men's proceedings, in his picture of Opulentia, whom he faines to dwell on the top of high mount, much sought after by many suitors. At their first comming, they are generally entertained by Pleasure and Dalliance, and have all the content that possibly may be given, so long as their money lasts; but when their meanes faile, they are contemptibly thrust out at a backe doore headlong, and there left to Shame, Reproach, Despaire. And hee at first that had so many attendants, parasites, and followers, young and lusty, richly arrayed, and all the dainty fare that might be had, with all kinde of welcome and good respect, is now upon a sudden stript of all, pale, naked, old, diseased, and forsaken, cursing his starres, and ready to strangle himself, having no other company but Repentance, Sorrow, Griefe, Dirision, Beggery, and Contempt, which are his daily attendants to his lives end. As the prodigall sonne had exquisite musicke, merry company, dainty fare at first, but a sorrowful reckoning in the end; so have all such vaine delights and their followers. (From Part 1. sect. ii.) This is the peroration of Burton's unique work: Last of all: If the party affected shall certainly know this malady to have proceeded from too much fasting, meditation, precise life, contemplation of Gods judgements, (for the divel deceives many by such meanes) in that other extream he circumvents melancholy it selfe, reading some books, treatises, hearing rigid preachers, &c. If he shall perceive that it hath begun first from some great loss, grievous accident, disaster, seeing others in like case, or any such terrible object, let him speedily remove the cause, which to the cure of this disease Navarrus so much commends, avertat cogitationem a re scrupulosa, by all opposite meanes, art, and industry, let him, laxare animum, by all honest recreations, refresh and recreate his distressed soule; let him divert his thoughts, by himselfe and other of his friends. Let him reade no more such tracts or subjects, hear no more such fearful tones, avoid such companies, and by all meanes open himselfe, submit himselfe to the advice of good physicians and divines, which is contraventio scrupulorum, as he cals it; hear them speake to whom the Lord hath given the tongue of the learned, to be able to minister a word to him that is weary, whose words are as flagons of wine. Let him not be obstinate, head-strong, peevish, wilful, self-conceited (as in this malady they are), but give eare to good advice, be ruled and perswaded; and no doubt but such good counsell may prove as prosperous to his soule, as the angel was to Peter, that opened the iron gates, loosed his bands, brought him out prison, and delivered him from bodily thraldome; they may ease his afflicted minde, relieve his wounded soule, and take him out of the jawes of hell it selfe. I can say no more, or give better advice to such as are any way distressed in this kinde, then what I have given and said. Only take this for a corollary and conclusion, as thou tenderest thine owne welfare in this, and all other melancholy, thy good health of body and minde, observe this short precept, give not way to solitariness and idleness. Be not solitary, be not idle. SPERATE MISERI, CAVETE FELICES. Vis a dubio liberari? vis quod incertum est evadere? Age pænitentiam dum sanus es; sic agens, dico tibi quod securus es, quod pænitentiam egisti eo tempore quo peccare potuisti (Austin). Among shorter sayings invented or quoted by Burton are: He that goes to law (as the proverb is) holds a wolf by the ears;' 'Industry is a loadstone to draw all good things;' 'No cord or cable can so forcibly draw or hold so fast as love can do with a twined thread;' 'Poverty is the muse's patrimony;' 'The greatest enemy to man is man ;’ and he characterises his freedom of expression in the familiar words, 'I call a spade a spade.' 'Where God hath a temple, the Divell will have a chappel; where God hath sacrifices, the Divell will have his oblations; where God hath ceremonies, the Divell will have his traditions ; where there is any religion, the Divell will plant superstition,' is part of a memorable passage, the first clauses of which are given in a slightly dif ferent form by George Herbert in his Jacula Prudentum, first published in 1657, thus: 'No sooner is a temple built to God, but the Devil builds a chapel hard by ;' and the same winged word was versified as we usually hear it by Defoe : Wherever God erects a house of prayer, The Devil always builds a chapel there. Most of Burton's verse, original or translation, is mere doggerel. But The Author's Abstract of Melancholy, prefixed (not in all the editions) to the work, takes rather higher rank, and had the honour, as Warton pointed out, of giving Milton some suggestions both for L'Allegro and for Il Penseroso: The Author's Abstract of Melancholy. All my joyes to this are folly; When I go walking all alone, When to myself I act and smile, I sigh, I grieve, making great mone; All other joyes to this are folly ; Methinks I hear, methinks I see All my griefs to this are jolly; More than most men, Burton is identified with the one book which was the work of his life. But he wrote also a Latin comedy, Philosophaster, acted at Cambridge in 1617, and printed for the Roxburghe Club in 1862; and he contributed Latin verses to various collections. Of reprints or new editions of Burton, by far the most scholarly and valuable is that by the Rev. A. R. Shilleto, with an introduc tion by Mr A. H. Bullen (3 vols. 1893), in which most of the quotations are identified and verified. James Ussher, or USHER, the celebrated Archbishop of Armagh, was born in Dublin, 4th January 1581, son of a clerk in Chancery. He succeeded to his father's estate, but, wishing to devote himself uninterruptedly to study, gave it up to his brother and sisters, reserving for himself only a sufficiency for his maintenance at Trinity College and for the purchase of books. In 1606 he visited England, and became intimate with Camden and Sir Robert Cotton. For thirteen years (from 1607) he filled the chair of Divinity in the University of Dublin, dwelling largely on the controversies between the Protestants and Catholics. At the convocation of the Irish clergy in 1615, when they determined to assert their independence as a national Church, the articles were drawn up mainly by Ussher; and by asserting in them the Calvinistic doctrines of election and reprobation, by his advocacy of the rigorous observance of the Sabbath, and by his known |