Francis, the son of James Quares, clerk to the board of green cloth, and purveyor to Queen Elizabeth, was born in 1592. He was educated at Cambridge, became a member of Lincoln's Inn, and was for some time cup-bearer to the queen of Bohemia, and chronologer to the city of London. It was probably on the ruin of the queen's affairs that he went to Ireland as secretary to Archbishop Usher; but the troubles in that kingdom forced him to return; and not finding affairs more settled in England, some disquiets he met with were thought to have hastened his death, which happened in 1644. His works, both in prose and in verse, are numerous, and were formerly in great esteem, particularly his Divine Emblems; but the obsolete quaintness of his style has caused them to fall into neglect, excepting amongst particular classes of readers. "The memory of Quares," says Headley, "has been branded with..." Quamaro more than common abuse, and he seems to have been censured merely from the want of being read. If his poetry failed to gain him friends and readers, his piety should at least have secured him peace and good will. He too often, no doubt, mistook the enthusiasm for devotion for the inspiration of fancy. To mix the waters of Jordan and Helicon in the same cup, was reserved for the hand of Milton; and for him, and him only, to find the bays of Mount Olivet equally verdant with those of Parnassus. Yet, as the effusions of a real poetical mind, however thwarted by untowardness of subject, will seldom be rendered totally abortive, we find in Quarles original imagery, striking sentiment, fertility of expression, and happy combinations; together with a compression of style that merits the observation of the writers of verse. Gross deficiencies of judgment, and the infelicity of his subjects, concurred in ruining him."