282 
language. Which work, though under- 
taken by many, yet they have been 
weary, and forsaken it; but the reader 
May now expect it, having been long 
since begun, and lately finishr, by the 
happy pen of Dr. Earl, late Lord Bishop 
of Salisbury, of whom 1 may justly say, 
(and Jet it not offend him, because it is 
such a truth as ought not to be concealed 
from posterity, or those that now live, 
and yet know him not,) that since Mr. 
Hooker dyed, none havelived whom God 
hath blest with more innocent wisdom, 
more sanctified learning, or a more 
pious, peaceable, primitive temper: so 
that this excellent person seems to be 
only like himself, and our venerable 
Richard Hooker, and only fit to make 
the learned of all nations happy, in know- 
ing what hath been too long confin’d to 
the language-of our little island.” 
Such was the character of Bishop 
Earle, who having retired to Oxford 
_ during the great plague, died there No- 
vember 17th, 1665, and was buried in 
the chapel of Merton College, where he 
had been admitted as a scholar in 1620. 
The date of the first edition of the 
“ Micro-cosmographie,” has not come to 
our knowiedge. The fourth, fifth, and 
sixth editions, were dated in 1628, 1629, 
and 1630: and the author of “ Censura 
Literaria,” mentions a re-publication of 
atin 1731. From the characters, which 
are no less than seventy-seven im num- 
ber, the following have been selected. 
In a few instances they may, perhaps, 
bear particular allusion to manners,which 
are now obsolete; but, in general, they 
will be found to-exhibit traits which can- 
not be mistaken, even at the present 
hour. 
A Grave Divine, 
‘© Ts one that knows the burden of his 
calling, and hath studied to make his 
shoulders sufficient: for which he hath 
not beene hasty to launch*foorth of his 
ort the Universitie, but expected the 
Pallast of learning, and the wind of op- 
portunitie. Divinity is.not the beginning, 
but the end of his studies, to which hee 
takes the ordinary stayte, and makes the 
artshis way. Hee counts it not prophane- 
nesse to be polisht with humane read- 
ing, or to smoeth his way by Aristotle to 
schoole-divinity. He has sounded both 
religions, and anchoi’d in the best, and 
is a protestant out of judgement, not 
faction, not because his country, but his 
reason, is on thisside. The ministry is 
his choyce, not refuge, and yet the pulpit 
act his itch, but feare, His discourse 
Ni 
4 Grave Divine—A Meere Emptie Wit. - [Oct. 1, | 
there is substance, not all rhetorique, and 
he utters more things then words. His 
out the matter acts itselfe. He shoots 
all his meditations at one butt: and beats 
vpon his text, not the cushion, making his 
hearers, not the pulpit, groane. In citing 
guments, not cudgels them with barren 
invectives: and labours more to shew 
the truth of his cause, then the spleene. 
His sermon is limited by the method, not 
the houre-glasse; and his devotion goes- 
along with him out of the pulpit. . Hee 
comes not up thrice a weeke, because he 
would not bee idle, nor talkes three 
houres together, because hee would not 
talke nothing: but his tongue preaches 
at fit times, and “his conversation is the 
every dayes exercise. In matters of ce- 
remonie, hee is not ceremonious, but 
thinkes hee owes that reverence to the 
church, to bow his judgement to it, «and 
make more-conscieuce of schisme, then 
a surplesse. Hee esteemes the churche’s 
glory, and however wee jarre with Rome, 
would not have our confusion distinguish 
us. In Symoniacall purchases, he thinkes 
his soule goes in the bargaine, and is loth 
to come by promotion so deere. Yet his 
worth at the length advances him, and 
‘speech is not helpt with iufore’d action, - 
of Popish errors, he cuts them with are ' 
1 
the price of his own merit buyes him a 
living. He is no base grater of his tythes, 
and will not wrangle for the odde egge. 
The lawyer is the only man he hinders, 
he is spited for taking up quarrels. He 
is atain pillar of our charch, though not 
yet deane nor canon, and his life our 
religion’s best apologie: his death is his 
last sermon, where, in the pulpit of his 
bed, hee instructs men to dye by his ex- 
ample.” ; . 
_ A Meere Emptie Wit, 
“ Ts like one that spends on the stocke 
without any revenues comming in, and 
will shortly be no wit at al: for learning 
is the fuell to this fire of wit, which, if it 
wants this feeding, eates out itselfe. A 
good conceit or two bates of such a man, 
and makes a sensible weakning in him: 
and his braine recovers it‘not 2 yeere 
after. The rest of him are bubbles and 
flashes, darted out on the sudden, which, 
if you take them while they are warme, 
may be laught at; if they coole, are no- 
thing. He speakes best on the present 
apprehension, for meditation stupi 
him, and the more he is in travell, the 
lesse he brings forth. His things come 
off then, as in a nauseating stomacke, 
‘where there is nothing to cast vp straines, 
and convulsions, and some astonishing 
bumbast 
