Rev. Thomas Fuller

Anonymous, in Edinburgh Review, n.d.; Thomas Corser, Collectanea Anglo-Poetica 6 (1877) 382.

Though Fuller's works, like those of so many of his contemporaries, are sometime covered with rubbish, and swollen with redundancies, they are, as is the case also with some of them, instinct with genius. Like Taylor, and Barrow, and Sir Thomas Browne, he wrote with a vigour and originality, with a fertility of thought and imagery, and a general felicity of style, which, considering the quantity of his compositions, and the haste with which he produced them, impress us with wonder at his untiring activity and preternatural fecundity. He has scattered with careless prodigality, over the pages of his many works, thoughts and images which, if collected, properly disposed, and purified from the worthless matter which encrusts, and often buries them, would have insured him a place beside those, who, by writing less, and elaborating it more, by concentrating their strength on works of moderate compass and high finish, have secured themselves a place not only in the libraries, but in the memories of their readers, and live in perpetual and familiar quotation.