could not have surpassed this.

Gifted as he was, learned in many directions, an enthusiastic
mathematician, master of several languages, occasionally full of wit and
humour, and even good sense, yet he gave his books the strangest titles,
and his ideas were no less whimsical. His style is mystic, fastidious, and
too often of a wearisome length and obscurity; his verses rhyme anyhow, or
not at all; but vivacity, force and heat are never lacking, and the
Maitland Club did well in reprinting, in 1834, his various works, which are
very rare. Yet, in spite of their curious interest, he owes his real
distinction and the survival of his name to his translation of Rabelais.

The first two books appeared in 1653. The original edition, exceedingly
scarce, was carefully reprinted in 1838, only a hundred copies being
issued, by an English bibliophile T(heodore) M(artin), whose interesting
preface I regret to sum up so cursorily. At the end of the seventeenth
century, in 1693, a French refugee, Peter Antony Motteux, whose English
verses and whose plays are not without value, published in a little octavo
volume a reprint, very incorrect as to the text, of the first two books, to
which he added the third, from the manuscript found amongst Urquhart's
papers. The success which attended this venture suggested to Motteux the
idea of completing the work, and a second edition, in two volumes, appeared
in 1708, with the translation of the fourth and fifth books, and notes.
Nineteen years after his death, John Ozell, translator on a large scale of
French, Italian, and Spanish authors, revised Motteux's edition, which he
published in five volumes in 1737, adding Le Duchat's notes; and this
version has often been reprinted since.

The continuation by Motteux, who was also the translator of Don Quixote,
has merits of its own. It is precise, elegant, and very faithful.