This is a modern-English version of Areopagitica: A Speech for the Liberty of Unlicensed Printing to the Parliament of England, originally written by Milton, John. It has been thoroughly updated, including changes to sentence structure, words, spelling, and grammar—to ensure clarity for contemporary readers, while preserving the original spirit and nuance. If you click on a paragraph, you will see the original text that we modified, and you can toggle between the two versions.

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AREOPAGITICA



By John Milton





A SPEECH FOR THE LIBERTY OF UNLICENSED PRINTING
TO THE PARLIAMENT OF ENGLAND





     This is true liberty, when free-born men,
     Having to advise the public, may speak free,
     Which he who can, and will, deserves high praise;
     Who neither can, nor will, may hold his peace:
     What can be juster in a state than this?

     Euripid.  Hicetid.
     This is true freedom, when free-born people,
     When advising the public, can speak freely,
     Those who can and will deserve great praise;
     Those who cannot or choose not to can remain silent:
     What could be more just in a society than this?

     Euripid. Hicetid.



They, who to states and governors of the Commonwealth direct their speech, High Court of Parliament, or, wanting such access in a private condition, write that which they foresee may advance the public good; I suppose them, as at the beginning of no mean endeavour, not a little altered and moved inwardly in their minds: some with doubt of what will be the success, others with fear of what will be the censure; some with hope, others with confidence of what they have to speak. And me perhaps each of these dispositions, as the subject was whereon I entered, may have at other times variously affected; and likely might in these foremost expressions now also disclose which of them swayed most, but that the very attempt of this address thus made, and the thought of whom it hath recourse to, hath got the power within me to a passion, far more welcome than incidental to a preface.

They, who speak to the states and governors of the Commonwealth, or when they can’t get that access and instead write, aiming to promote the public good; I imagine they are, at the start of any significant effort, deeply stirred and changed within their minds: some uncertain about the outcome, others worried about the criticism; some feeling hopeful, others confident in what they have to say. And I, too, might be affected by each of these states, depending on the subject I’m addressing, and likely could reveal which feeling influenced me the most in these opening statements; but the very act of making this address and considering to whom it relates has stirred a passion within me that is much more appropriate than what is typical for a preface.

Which though I stay not to confess ere any ask, I shall be blameless, if it be no other than the joy and gratulation which it brings to all who wish and promote their country's liberty; whereof this whole discourse proposed will be a certain testimony, if not a trophy. For this is not the liberty which we can hope, that no grievance ever should arise in the Commonwealth—that let no man in this world expect; but when complaints are freely heard, deeply considered and speedily reformed, then is the utmost bound of civil liberty attained that wise men look for. To which if I now manifest by the very sound of this which I shall utter, that we are already in good part arrived, and yet from such a steep disadvantage of tyranny and superstition grounded into our principles as was beyond the manhood of a Roman recovery, it will be attributed first, as is most due, to the strong assistance of God our deliverer, next to your faithful guidance and undaunted wisdom, Lords and Commons of England. Neither is it in God's esteem the diminution of his glory, when honourable things are spoken of good men and worthy magistrates; which if I now first should begin to do, after so fair a progress of your laudable deeds, and such a long obligement upon the whole realm to your indefatigable virtues, I might be justly reckoned among the tardiest, and the unwillingest of them that praise ye.

Though I’m not one to confess before anyone asks, I won’t be blamed if it’s just the joy and celebration that this brings to everyone who wishes for and supports their country's freedom; this entire discussion will serve as a clear testament, if not a trophy. This isn’t the kind of freedom we can hope for, where no grievances ever arise in the Commonwealth—that’s something no one should expect in this world. Instead, when complaints are openly heard, thoughtfully considered, and quickly resolved, that’s the highest level of civil liberty that wise people seek. If I now show through the very sound of what I’m about to say that we’ve made significant progress, despite facing such severe disadvantages of tyranny and superstition embedded in our principles—something that would have been beyond the capability of a Roman recovery—it will be attributed first, as is most fitting, to the strong support of God our deliverer, and next to your loyal guidance and fearless wisdom, Lords and Commons of England. Moreover, it doesn’t diminish God’s glory when honorable things are said about good people and worthy leaders; if I were to start doing that now, after acknowledging your commendable actions and the long-standing debt of gratitude the entire kingdom owes to your tireless virtues, I might be justly considered one of the slowest and least willing to praise you.

Nevertheless there being three principal things, without which all praising is but courtship and flattery: First, when that only is praised which is solidly worth praise: next, when greatest likelihoods are brought that such things are truly and really in those persons to whom they are ascribed: the other, when he who praises, by showing that such his actual persuasion is of whom he writes, can demonstrate that he flatters not; the former two of these I have heretofore endeavoured, rescuing the employment from him who went about to impair your merits with a trivial and malignant encomium; the latter as belonging chiefly to mine own acquittal, that whom I so extolled I did not flatter, hath been reserved opportunely to this occasion.

However, there are three main things that make praise genuine rather than just flattery: First, praise should only be given to things that truly deserve it; second, there should be strong evidence that the qualities being praised really exist in the people being referenced; and third, the person giving the praise should show, through their genuine belief in what they're saying, that they are not just flattering. I have already worked on the first two points, defending your merits against someone who tried to undermine them with a trivial and malicious compliment. The third point, which is important for my own credibility—that those I praise are not just being flattered—I've reserved for this moment.

For he who freely magnifies what hath been nobly done, and fears not to declare as freely what might be done better, gives ye the best covenant of his fidelity; and that his loyalest affection and his hope waits on your proceedings. His highest praising is not flattery, and his plainest advice is a kind of praising. For though I should affirm and hold by argument, that it would fare better with truth, with learning and the Commonwealth, if one of your published Orders, which I should name, were called in; yet at the same time it could not but much redound to the lustre of your mild and equal government, whenas private persons are hereby animated to think ye better pleased with public advice, than other statists have been delighted heretofore with public flattery. And men will then see what difference there is between the magnanimity of a triennial Parliament, and that jealous haughtiness of prelates and cabin counsellors that usurped of late, whenas they shall observe ye in the midst of your victories and successes more gently brooking written exceptions against a voted Order than other courts, which had produced nothing worth memory but the weak ostentation of wealth, would have endured the least signified dislike at any sudden proclamation.

For someone who openly praises what has been done well and isn’t afraid to suggest how things could be improved, shows the best form of loyalty. Their genuine affection and hope are tied to your actions. Their highest praise isn’t flattery, and their straightforward advice is a form of praise itself. Even if I were to argue that it would benefit truth, education, and society if one of your published Orders, which I could name, were revoked; at the same time, it would shine a positive light on your fair and balanced leadership when private individuals feel encouraged to believe you value public advice more than previous leaders valued public flattery. People will then see the difference between the greatness of a triennial Parliament and the jealous arrogance of recent prelates and advisers, especially when they witness you, amidst your victories and successes, being more open to written objections against a voted Order than other courts that produced nothing memorable but the weak display of wealth that would have rejected even the slightest sign of discontent at any sudden announcement.

If I should thus far presume upon the meek demeanour of your civil and gentle greatness, Lords and Commons, as what your published Order hath directly said, that to gainsay, I might defend myself with ease, if any should accuse me of being new or insolent, did they but know how much better I find ye esteem it to imitate the old and elegant humanity of Greece, than the barbaric pride of a Hunnish and Norwegian stateliness. And out of those ages, to whose polite wisdom and letters we owe that we are not yet Goths and Jutlanders, I could name him who from his private house wrote that discourse to the Parliament of Athens, that persuades them to change the form of democracy which was then established. Such honour was done in those days to men who professed the study of wisdom and eloquence, not only in their own country, but in other lands, that cities and signiories heard them gladly, and with great respect, if they had aught in public to admonish the state. Thus did Dion Prusaeus, a stranger and a private orator, counsel the Rhodians against a former edict; and I abound with other like examples, which to set here would be superfluous.

If I may thus presume on your humble demeanor, esteemed Lords and Commons, as your published Order has explicitly stated, that I could easily defend myself against any accusations of being new or arrogant if others knew how much I appreciate your preference for adopting the refined humanity of Greece over the barbaric pride of a Hun or Norse formality. From the ages that gifted us the cultured wisdom and literature that keep us from being like Goths or Jutlanders, I could mention someone who, from his private residence, wrote to the Parliament of Athens, convincing them to change the existing form of democracy. In those days, great respect was given to those who pursued wisdom and eloquence, not just in their own land but abroad as well, so cities and noblemen gladly listened to them when they had something to advise the state. For example, Dion Prusaeus, a foreigner and ordinary speaker, advised the Rhodians against an earlier decree. I have many other similar examples, but it would be excessive to list them all here.

But if from the industry of a life wholly dedicated to studious labours, and those natural endowments haply not the worst for two and fifty degrees of northern latitude, so much must be derogated, as to count me not equal to any of those who had this privilege, I would obtain to be thought not so inferior, as yourselves are superior to the most of them who received their counsel: and how far you excel them, be assured, Lords and Commons, there can no greater testimony appear, than when your prudent spirit acknowledges and obeys the voice of reason from what quarter soever it be heard speaking; and renders ye as willing to repeal any Act of your own setting forth, as any set forth by your predecessors.

But if I have dedicated my life to studying hard and, despite my natural abilities not being the worst for my northern latitude, I'm considered less worthy than those who had the privilege of receiving guidance, I would like to be seen as not so inferior to you, who are superior to most of those who sought counsel. And just how much you surpass them is shown best when you, Lords and Commons, wisely listen to and follow the voice of reason no matter where it comes from, and are just as willing to repeal any law you’ve created as you are to repeal those made by your predecessors.

If ye be thus resolved, as it were injury to think ye were not, I know not what should withhold me from presenting ye with a fit instance wherein to show both that love of truth which ye eminently profess, and that uprightness of your judgment which is not wont to be partial to yourselves; by judging over again that Order which ye have ordained to regulate printing:—that no book, pamphlet, or paper shall be henceforth printed, unless the same be first approved and licensed by such, or at least one of such, as shall be thereto appointed. For that part which preserves justly every man's copy to himself, or provides for the poor, I touch not, only wish they be not made pretences to abuse and persecute honest and painful men, who offend not in either of these particulars. But that other clause of licensing books, which we thought had died with his brother quadragesimal and matrimonial when the prelates expired, I shall now attend with such a homily, as shall lay before ye, first the inventors of it to be those whom ye will be loath to own; next what is to be thought in general of reading, whatever sort the books be; and that this Order avails nothing to the suppressing of scandalous, seditious, and libellous books, which were mainly intended to be suppressed. Last, that it will be primely to the discouragement of all learning, and the stop of truth, not only by disexercising and blunting our abilities in what we know already, but by hindering and cropping the discovery that might be yet further made both in religious and civil wisdom.

If you are determined, as it would be a mistake to think otherwise, I don’t know what could stop me from showing you a relevant example that demonstrates both the love of truth that you clearly express and the fairness of your judgment that is not typically biased in your favor; by reassessing the Order that you set up to regulate printing:—that no book, pamphlet, or paper shall be printed from now on unless it is first approved and licensed by those designated for that purpose, or at least one of them. As for the part that fairly preserves every person's rights to their own work or provides for the less fortunate, I won't address that, but I hope it isn't used to justify the mistreatment and persecution of honest individuals who haven't violated either of these points. However, I will now discuss that other clause about licensing books, which we thought had disappeared along with its counterparts when the religious leaders faded away, with a commentary that will show you, first, that the people who invented this were ones you would rather not associate with; next, what is generally to be thought about reading, regardless of the type of books; and that this Order does nothing to prevent the publishing of scandalous, seditious, and defamatory books, which was its main purpose. Finally, it will ultimately discourage all learning and stifle truth, not only by dulling our existing skills but also by hindering new discoveries that could still be made in both religious and civil wisdom.

I deny not, but that it is of greatest concernment in the Church and Commonwealth, to have a vigilant eye how books demean themselves as well as men; and thereafter to confine, imprison, and do sharpest justice on them as malefactors. For books are not absolutely dead things, but do contain a potency of life in them to be as active as that soul was whose progeny they are; nay, they do preserve as in a vial the purest efficacy and extraction of that living intellect that bred them. I know they are as lively, and as vigorously productive, as those fabulous dragon's teeth; and being sown up and down, may chance to spring up armed men. And yet, on the other hand, unless wariness be used, as good almost kill a man as kill a good book. Who kills a man kills a reasonable creature, God's image; but he who destroys a good book, kills reason itself, kills the image of God, as it were in the eye. Many a man lives a burden to the earth; but a good book is the precious life-blood of a master spirit, embalmed and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond life. 'Tis true, no age can restore a life, whereof perhaps there is no great loss; and revolutions of ages do not oft recover the loss of a rejected truth, for the want of which whole nations fare the worse.

I won't deny that it's extremely important for the Church and society to keep a close eye on how books behave just like we do with people; and then to restrict, punish, and enforce strict justice against them if needed, as wrongdoers. Books are not just lifeless objects; they contain a potential for life that can be as active as the mind that created them. In fact, they preserve the pure essence and insight of that living intellect that produced them. I believe they are as lively and productive as those mythical dragon's teeth; when scattered, they might unexpectedly sprout armed individuals. However, on the flip side, if we're not careful, it's almost as harmful to destroy a good book as it is to kill a person. When someone kills a person, they're taking the life of a rational being, made in God's image; but when someone destroys a good book, they're killing reason itself, erasing God's image, so to speak. Many people are just a burden on the earth, but a good book is the invaluable lifeblood of a great mind, preserved and cherished for a life beyond this one. It's true that no era can bring back a life that may not have been greatly lost; and changes over time often don't recover the value of a neglected truth, which can lead to whole nations suffering for it.

We should be wary therefore what persecution we raise against the living labours of public men, how we spill that seasoned life of man, preserved and stored up in books; since we see a kind of homicide may be thus committed, sometimes a martyrdom, and if it extend to the whole impression, a kind of massacre; whereof the execution ends not in the slaying of an elemental life, but strikes at that ethereal and fifth essence, the breath of reason itself, slays an immortality rather than a life. But lest I should be condemned of introducing license, while I oppose licensing, I refuse not the pains to be so much historical, as will serve to show what hath been done by ancient and famous commonwealths against this disorder, till the very time that this project of licensing crept out of the Inquisition, was catched up by our prelates, and hath caught some of our presbyters.

We should be careful about the persecution we unleash against the vital efforts of public figures and how we damage the valuable thoughts of individuals, preserved in books; since we see that a kind of murder can occur this way, sometimes even martyrdom, and if it affects the entire edition, it resembles a massacre. The outcome doesn't just end in the killing of a basic life, but targets that ethereal and fifth essence, the breath of reason itself, extinguishing an immortality rather than just a life. However, to avoid being accused of promoting chaos while I oppose licensing, I acknowledge the importance of being historical enough to highlight what has been done by ancient and renowned societies against this issue, right up to the time that this licensing idea emerged from the Inquisition, was taken up by our bishops, and has influenced some of our ministers.

In Athens, where books and wits were ever busier than in any other part of Greece, I find but only two sorts of writings which the magistrate cared to take notice of; those either blasphemous and atheistical, or libellous. Thus the books of Protagoras were by the judges of Areopagus commanded to be burnt, and himself banished the territory for a discourse begun with his confessing not to know WHETHER THERE WERE GODS, OR WHETHER NOT. And against defaming, it was decreed that none should be traduced by name, as was the manner of Vetus Comoedia, whereby we may guess how they censured libelling. And this course was quick enough, as Cicero writes, to quell both the desperate wits of other atheists, and the open way of defaming, as the event showed. Of other sects and opinions, though tending to voluptuousness, and the denying of divine Providence, they took no heed.

In Athens, where books and ideas were always more active than anywhere else in Greece, I see only two types of writings that the authorities paid attention to: those that were blasphemous or atheistic, and those that were defamatory. For example, the judges of the Areopagus ordered the books of Protagoras to be burned and exiled him from the region because he started a discussion by admitting he didn’t know WHETHER THERE WERE GODS, OR WHETHER NOT. In terms of defamation, it was decided that no one should be publicly slandered by name, which was the style of Vetus Comoedia, indicating how they viewed libel. This approach was effective enough, as Cicero noted, to silence both the reckless critics of atheism and the blatant slander, as the outcome demonstrated. They paid no attention to other beliefs and opinions, even if they leaned towards indulgence or denied divine Providence.

Therefore we do not read that either Epicurus, or that libertine school of Cyrene, or what the Cynic impudence uttered, was ever questioned by the laws. Neither is it recorded that the writings of those old comedians were suppressed, though the acting of them were forbid; and that Plato commended the reading of Aristophanes, the loosest of them all, to his royal scholar Dionysius, is commonly known, and may be excused, if holy Chrysostom, as is reported, nightly studied so much the same author and had the art to cleanse a scurrilous vehemence into the style of a rousing sermon.

So, we don’t see that either Epicurus or the free-spirited group from Cyrene, or the rude statements made by the Cynics, were ever challenged by the law. There's also no record of the old comedians' works being banned, although their performances were prohibited; it’s well-known that Plato recommended reading Aristophanes, who was the most risqué of all, to his royal student Dionysius. This can be forgiven, especially since it's reported that the revered Chrysostom studied this same author every night and had the skill to transform crude language into an inspiring sermon.

That other leading city of Greece, Lacedaemon, considering that Lycurgus their lawgiver was so addicted to elegant learning, as to have been the first that brought out of Ionia the scattered works of Homer, and sent the poet Thales from Crete to prepare and mollify the Spartan surliness with his smooth songs and odes, the better to plant among them law and civility, it is to be wondered how museless and unbookish they were, minding nought but the feats of war. There needed no licensing of books among them, for they disliked all but their own laconic apophthegms, and took a slight occasion to chase Archilochus out of their city, perhaps for composing in a higher strain than their own soldierly ballads and roundels could reach to. Or if it were for his broad verses, they were not therein so cautious but they were as dissolute in their promiscuous conversing; whence Euripides affirms in Andromache, that their women were all unchaste. Thus much may give us light after what sort of books were prohibited among the Greeks.

The other major city of Greece, Lacedaemon, had Lycurgus, their lawgiver, who was so passionate about refined education that he was the first to bring the scattered works of Homer from Ionia and sent the poet Thales from Crete to soften the Spartan harshness with his smooth songs and odes, aiming to instill law and civility among them. It’s surprising how uneducated and uninterested in learning they were, focusing only on military exploits. They didn’t need to ban books since they only valued their own concise sayings and quickly drove Archilochus out of their city, perhaps because his poetry was more sophisticated than their own soldier songs. If it was for his elaborate verses, they weren't particularly careful as they were quite loose in their social interactions; hence, Euripides claims in Andromache that their women were all unfaithful. This gives us some insight into the kinds of books that were banned among the Greeks.

The Romans also, for many ages trained up only to a military roughness resembling most the Lacedaemonian guise, knew of learning little but what their twelve Tables, and the Pontific College with their augurs and flamens taught them in religion and law; so unacquainted with other learning, that when Carneades and Critolaus, with the Stoic Diogenes, coming ambassadors to Rome, took thereby occasion to give the city a taste of their philosophy, they were suspected for seducers by no less a man than Cato the Censor, who moved it in the Senate to dismiss them speedily, and to banish all such Attic babblers out of Italy. But Scipio and others of the noblest senators withstood him and his old Sabine austerity; honoured and admired the men; and the censor himself at last, in his old age, fell to the study of that whereof before he was so scrupulous. And yet at the same time Naevius and Plautus, the first Latin comedians, had filled the city with all the borrowed scenes of Menander and Philemon. Then began to be considered there also what was to be done to libellous books and authors; for Naevius was quickly cast into prison for his unbridled pen, and released by the tribunes upon his recantation; we read also that libels were burnt, and the makers punished by Augustus. The like severity, no doubt, was used, if aught were impiously written against their esteemed gods. Except in these two points, how the world went in books, the magistrate kept no reckoning.

The Romans, for many years, were raised mainly in a military culture that closely resembled that of the Spartans, and their knowledge was limited to what their Twelve Tables and the College of Pontiffs, along with their augurs and flamens, taught them about religion and law. They were so unfamiliar with other forms of knowledge that when Carneades, Critolaus, and the Stoic Diogenes came to Rome as ambassadors and used the opportunity to introduce their philosophy, they were suspected of being corrupting influences by none other than Cato the Censor. He proposed in the Senate that they be sent away quickly and that all such Athenian speakers be banished from Italy. However, Scipio and other respected senators opposed him and his strict old ways; they honored and admired the philosophers. Eventually, even Cato, in his old age, began to study what he had previously been so hesitant about. At the same time, Naevius and Plautus, the first Latin comedians, were filling the city with adapted scenes from Menander and Philemon. This led to discussions about how to handle seditious books and their authors. Naevius was quickly imprisoned for his reckless writing but was released by the tribunes after he recanted. We also learn that Augustus had libels burned and their creators punished. A similar strictness was enforced against anything written that disrespected their revered gods. Aside from these two issues, the magistrates didn’t keep track of what was happening in literature.

And therefore Lucretius without impeachment versifies his Epicurism to Memmius, and had the honour to be set forth the second time by Cicero, so great a father of the Commonwealth; although himself disputes against that opinion in his own writings. Nor was the satirical sharpness or naked plainness of Lucilius, or Catullus, or Flaccus, by any order prohibited. And for matters of state, the story of Titus Livius, though it extolled that part which Pompey held, was not therefore suppressed by Octavius Caesar of the other faction. But that Naso was by him banished in his old age, for the wanton poems of his youth, was but a mere covert of state over some secret cause: and besides, the books were neither banished nor called in. From hence we shall meet with little else but tyranny in the Roman empire, that we may not marvel, if not so often bad as good books were silenced. I shall therefore deem to have been large enough, in producing what among the ancients was punishable to write; save only which, all other arguments were free to treat on.

And so, Lucretius confidently presents his Epicurean views to Memmius and had the honor of being recognized a second time by Cicero, such a great leader of the Republic; although he himself argues against that viewpoint in his own writings. The sharp satire and straightforwardness of Lucilius, Catullus, or Horace were never officially banned. And regarding political matters, the history written by Titus Livius, while favoring Pompey's side, was not silenced by Octavius Caesar from the opposing faction. However, the fact that Naso was exiled in his old age for the outrageous poems of his youth was merely a political cover for some hidden reason: additionally, his works were neither banned nor recalled. From this, we see little else but tyranny in the Roman Empire, so we shouldn't be surprised if, more often than not, bad books rather than good ones were silenced. Therefore, I believe I have covered enough regarding what among the ancients was punishable to write; aside from that, all other topics were free to discuss.

By this time the emperors were become Christians, whose discipline in this point I do not find to have been more severe than what was formerly in practice. The books of those whom they took to be grand heretics were examined, refuted, and condemned in the general Councils; and not till then were prohibited, or burnt, by authority of the emperor. As for the writings of heathen authors, unless they were plain invectives against Christianity, as those of Porphyrius and Proclus, they met with no interdict that can be cited, till about the year 400, in a Carthaginian Council, wherein bishops themselves were forbid to read the books of Gentiles, but heresies they might read: while others long before them, on the contrary, scrupled more the books of heretics than of Gentiles. And that the primitive Councils and bishops were wont only to declare what books were not commendable, passing no further, but leaving it to each one's conscience to read or to lay by, till after the year 800, is observed already by Padre Paolo, the great unmasker of the Trentine Council.

At this point, the emperors had become Christians, and their approach to this issue doesn’t seem to have been much stricter than what had been practiced before. The works of those they considered major heretics were reviewed, countered, and condemned in the general Councils; only after that were they banned or burned by the emperor’s authority. Regarding the writings of pagan authors, unless they were outright attacks on Christianity, like those of Porphyrius and Proclus, there were no bans until around the year 400, during a Council in Carthage, where bishops were prohibited from reading the works of pagans, but they could read heretical texts. In contrast, others before them were more cautious about reading heretical texts than those of pagans. It’s noted, as Padre Paolo, the great critic of the Tridentine Council, pointed out, that the early Councils and bishops typically only indicated which books were not recommended, leaving it up to individual consciences to decide whether to read them or not, until after the year 800.

After which time the Popes of Rome, engrossing what they pleased of political rule into their own hands, extended their dominion over men's eyes, as they had before over their judgments, burning and prohibiting to be read what they fancied not; yet sparing in their censures, and the books not many which they so dealt with: till Martin V., by his bull, not only prohibited, but was the first that excommunicated the reading of heretical books; for about that time Wickliffe and Huss, growing terrible, were they who first drove the Papal Court to a stricter policy of prohibiting. Which course Leo X. and his successors followed, until the Council of Trent and the Spanish Inquisition engendering together brought forth, or perfected, those Catalogues and expurging Indexes, that rake through the entrails of many an old good author, with a violation worse than any could be offered to his tomb. Nor did they stay in matters heretical, but any subject that was not to their palate, they either condemned in a Prohibition, or had it straight into the new purgatory of an index.

After that time, the Popes of Rome, taking political power into their own hands, extended their control over people's perceptions, just as they had over their beliefs, burning and banning the reading of whatever they disapproved of; yet they were careful in their censures, and not many books fell under their scrutiny. It wasn't until Martin V., through his decree, not only prohibited but also became the first to excommunicate the reading of heretical books; this was around the time when Wickliffe and Huss became a real threat, leading the Papal Court to adopt a stricter policy of prohibitions. This approach was continued by Leo X. and his successors, until the Council of Trent and the Spanish Inquisition combined to produce those Catalogues and expurgated Indexes that sifted through the works of many respected authors, committing a violation worse than any that could be done to their graves. They didn’t stop with heretical matters; anything that didn’t suit their taste was either condemned with a Prohibition or immediately sent to the new purgatory of an index.

To fill up the measure of encroachment, their last invention was to ordain that no book, pamphlet, or paper should be printed (as if St. Peter had bequeathed them the keys of the press also out of Paradise) unless it were approved and licensed under the hands of two or three glutton friars. For example:

To complete their takeover, their latest scheme was to rule that no book, pamphlet, or paper could be printed (as if St. Peter had gifted them the keys to the press straight from Paradise) unless it was approved and licensed by a couple of greedy friars. For example:

     Let the Chancellor Cini be pleased to see if in this present
     work be contained aught that may withstand the printing.

     VINCENT RABBATTA,  Vicar of Florence.
     Let Chancellor Cini see if there is anything in this current work that can hold up to being printed.

     VINCENT RABBATTA, Vicar of Florence.

     I have seen this present work, and find nothing athwart the
     Catholic faith and good manners: in witness whereof I
     have given, etc.

     NICOLO GINI,  Chancellor of Florence.
     I have reviewed this current work and found nothing against the Catholic faith or good manners. In confirmation of this, I have provided, etc.

     NICOLO GINI, Chancellor of Florence.

     Attending the precedent relation, it is allowed that this
     present work of Davanzati may be printed.

     VINCENT RABBATTA,  etc.
     Attending the previous relationship, it is permitted that this
     current work of Davanzati may be printed.

     VINCENT RABBATTA, etc.

     It may be printed, July 15.

     FRIAR SIMON MOMPEI D'AMELIA,
     Chancellor of the Holy Office in Florence.
     It may be printed, July 15.

     FRIAR SIMON MOMPEI D'AMELIA,  
     Chancellor of the Holy Office in Florence.

Sure they have a conceit, if he of the bottomless pit had not long since broke prison, that this quadruple exorcism would bar him down. I fear their next design will be to get into their custody the licensing of that which they say Claudius intended, but went not through with. Vouchsafe to see another of their forms, the Roman stamp:

Sure, they have an arrogance, if that guy from the bottomless pit hadn’t already escaped a long time ago, that this quadruple exorcism would keep him down. I’m worried their next plan will be to take control of the permission for what they say Claudius intended but never completed. Please take a look at another one of their forms, the Roman style:

     Imprimatur, If it seem good to the reverend Master of the
     Holy Palace.

     BELCASTRO,  Vicegerent.
     Imprimatur, if it seems good to the respected Master of the
     Holy Palace.

     BELCASTRO, Vicegerent.

     Imprimatur, Friar Nicolo Rodolphi, Master of the Holy Palace.
     Imprimatur, Friar Nicolo Rodolphi, Master of the Holy Palace.

Sometimes five Imprimaturs are seen together dialogue-wise in the piazza of one title-page, complimenting and ducking each to other with their shaven reverences, whether the author, who stands by in perplexity at the foot of his epistle, shall to the press or to the sponge. These are the pretty responsories, these are the dear antiphonies, that so bewitched of late our prelates and their chaplains with the goodly echo they made; and besotted us to the gay imitation of a lordly Imprimatur, one from Lambeth House, another from the west end of Paul's; so apishly Romanizing, that the word of command still was set down in Latin; as if the learned grammatical pen that wrote it would cast no ink without Latin; or perhaps, as they thought, because no vulgar tongue was worthy to express the pure conceit of an Imprimatur, but rather, as I hope, for that our English, the language of men ever famous and foremost in the achievements of liberty, will not easily find servile letters enow to spell such a dictatory presumption English.

Sometimes, five Imprimaturs are seen together in the piazza on a single title page, bowing and greeting each other with their well-groomed reverence, while the author, who stands nearby in confusion at the foot of his letter, wonders whether to send it to the press or discard it. These are the charming responses, these are the delightful antiphons that recently captivated our bishops and their assistants with the lovely echo they created; and they led us to mimic a grand Imprimatur, one from Lambeth House, another from the west end of St. Paul's; so eagerly adopting the Roman style that the command was still written in Latin; as if the scholarly pen that wrote it could produce no ink unless it was in Latin; or perhaps, as they thought, because they believed no common language was worthy of expressing the refined idea of an Imprimatur, but rather, as I hope, because our English—the language of men who have always been prominent in the pursuit of freedom—will not easily find enough subservient letters to spell out such a dictatorial arrogance in English.

And thus ye have the inventors and the original of book-licensing ripped up and drawn as lineally as any pedigree. We have it not, that can be heard of, from any ancient state, or polity or church; nor by any statute left us by our ancestors elder or later; nor from the modern custom of any reformed city or church abroad, but from the most anti-christian council and the most tyrannous inquisition that ever inquired. Till then books were ever as freely admitted into the world as any other birth; the issue of the brain was no more stifled than the issue of the womb: no envious Juno sat cross-legged over the nativity of any man's intellectual offspring; but if it proved a monster, who denies, but that it was justly burnt, or sunk into the sea? But that a book, in worse condition than a peccant soul, should be to stand before a jury ere it be born to the world, and undergo yet in darkness the judgment of Radamanth and his colleagues, ere it can pass the ferry backward into light, was never heard before, till that mysterious iniquity, provoked and troubled at the first entrance of Reformation, sought out new limbos and new hells wherein they might include our books also within the number of their damned. And this was the rare morsel so officiously snatched up, and so ill-favouredly imitated by our inquisiturient bishops, and the attendant minorites their chaplains. That ye like not now these most certain authors of this licensing order, and that all sinister intention was far distant from your thoughts, when ye were importuned the passing it, all men who know the integrity of your actions, and how ye honour truth, will clear ye readily.

And so you have the inventors and the origin of book licensing laid out as clearly as any family tree. We don't hear of it from any ancient government, polity, or church; nor from any law left by our ancestors, whether earlier or later; nor from the current practices of any reformed city or church abroad, but from the most anti-Christian council and the cruelest inquisition that ever existed. Until then, books were welcomed into the world as freely as any other birth; the product of the mind was not stifled any more than the product of the womb: no envious Juno sat with her legs crossed over the birth of any man's intellectual creations; but if it turned out to be a monster, who would argue that it deserved to be burned or sunk into the sea? But for a book, in worse condition than a sinful soul, to stand before a jury before it enters the world, and to undergo the judgment of Rhadamanthus and his peers in darkness before it can be brought into the light, was something unheard of until that mysterious injustice, alarmed and disturbed by the onset of Reformation, sought out new limbos and new hells to include our books among the damned. And this was the rare treat that was eagerly grabbed and poorly copied by our inquisitorial bishops and their chaplains. That you are not pleased with these clear founders of this licensing order and that any malicious intent was far from your minds when you were pressured to approve it, all who know the integrity of your actions and how you value truth will quickly exonerate you.

But some will say, what though the inventors were bad, the thing for all that may be good? It may so; yet if that thing be no such deep invention, but obvious, and easy for any man to light on, and yet best and wisest commonwealths through all ages and occasions have forborne to use it, and falsest seducers and oppressors of men were the first who took it up, and to no other purpose but to obstruct and hinder the first approach of Reformation; I am of those who believe it will be a harder alchemy than Lullius ever knew, to sublimate any good use out of such an invention. Yet this only is what I request to gain from this reason, that it may be held a dangerous and suspicious fruit, as certainly it deserves, for the tree that bore it, until I can dissect one by one the properties it has. But I have first to finish, as was propounded, what is to be thought in general of reading books, whatever sort they be, and whether be more the benefit or the harm that thence proceeds.

But some might say, even if the inventors were flawed, the thing itself could still be good. That could be true; however, if that thing isn't some profound invention but rather something straightforward and easy for anyone to come up with, and yet the best and wisest societies throughout history have chosen not to use it, while the most deceitful manipulators and oppressors were the first to adopt it, solely to block and hinder the initial steps toward reform, I believe it will be much harder to extract any positive use from such an invention than anyone has ever realized. What I ask to determine from this reasoning is that it should be regarded as a dangerous and questionable outcome, as it certainly deserves, given the tree that produced it, until I can analyze each of its properties one by one. But first, I need to conclude, as proposed, what should be generally thought about reading books, regardless of their type, and whether the benefits or the drawbacks are greater.

Not to insist upon the examples of Moses, Daniel, and Paul, who were skilful in all the learning of the Egyptians, Chaldeans, and Greeks, which could not probably be without reading their books of all sorts; in Paul especially, who thought it no defilement to insert into Holy Scripture the sentences of three Greek poets, and one of them a tragedian; the question was notwithstanding sometimes controverted among the primitive doctors, but with great odds on that side which affirmed it both lawful and profitable; as was then evidently perceived, when Julian the Apostate and subtlest enemy to our faith made a decree forbidding Christians the study of heathen learning: for, said he, they wound us with our own weapons, and with our own arts and sciences they overcome us. And indeed the Christians were put so to their shifts by this crafty means, and so much in danger to decline into all ignorance, that the two Apollinarii were fain, as a man may say, to coin all the seven liberal sciences out of the Bible, reducing it into divers forms of orations, poems, dialogues, even to the calculating of a new Christian grammar. But, saith the historian Socrates, the providence of God provided better than the industry of Apollinarius and his son, by taking away that illiterate law with the life of him who devised it. So great an injury they then held it to be deprived of Hellenic learning; and thought it a persecution more undermining, and secretly decaying the Church, than the open cruelty of Decius or Diocletian.

Not to mention the examples of Moses, Daniel, and Paul, who were skilled in all the knowledge of the Egyptians, Chaldeans, and Greeks, which likely required reading all kinds of their books; especially Paul, who didn't think it was wrong to include quotes from three Greek poets in the Holy Scriptures, one of them being a tragedian. This issue was debated among the early church fathers, but the majority believed it was both permissible and beneficial; this was clearly seen when Julian the Apostate, the cleverest enemy of our faith, issued a decree banning Christians from studying pagan literature. He said that they challenge us with our own weapons and defeat us with our own arts and sciences. Indeed, Christians were so challenged by this clever tactic and were at great risk of falling into total ignorance that the two Apollinarii felt compelled, so to speak, to create all seven liberal arts from the Bible, transforming it into various forms of speeches, poems, and dialogues, even developing a new Christian grammar. But, as the historian Socrates noted, God's providence took care of things better than the efforts of Apollinarius and his son by eliminating that illiterate law along with the life of its creator. It was considered such a significant loss to be deprived of Hellenic learning, and they thought it a form of persecution that was more damaging and subtly eroding the Church than the open cruelty of Decius or Diocletian.

And perhaps it was the same politic drift that the devil whipped St. Jerome in a lenten dream, for reading Cicero; or else it was a phantasm bred by the fever which had then seized him. For had an angel been his discipliner, unless it were for dwelling too much upon Ciceronianisms, and had chastised the reading, not the vanity, it had been plainly partial; first to correct him for grave Cicero, and not for scurril Plautus, whom he confesses to have been reading, not long before; next to correct him only, and let so many more ancient fathers wax old in those pleasant and florid studies without the lash of such a tutoring apparition; insomuch that Basil teaches how some good use may be made of Margites, a sportful poem, not now extant, writ by Homer; and why not then of Morgante, an Italian romance much to the same purpose?

And maybe it was the same political influence that the devil used to torment St. Jerome in a Lenten dream for reading Cicero; or perhaps it was just a hallucination caused by the fever that had taken over him. If an angel had been his teacher, it would only have been because he was focusing too much on Cicero’s style, and if he had reprimanded him for reading, rather than for his pride, it would have seemed clearly biased; first to correct him for studying serious Cicero, while ignoring the vulgar Plautus, which he admits to having read not long before; next to only correct him and allow so many other ancient fathers to grow old in those enjoyable and elaborate studies without any reprimand from such a guiding spirit. In fact, Basil explains how some good can come from reading Margites, a playful poem by Homer that no longer exists; so why not also from Morgante, an Italian romance with a similar theme?

But if it be agreed we shall be tried by visions, there is a vision recorded by Eusebius, far ancienter than this tale of Jerome, to the nun Eustochium, and, besides, has nothing of a fever in it. Dionysius Alexandrinus was about the year 240 a person of great name in the Church for piety and learning, who had wont to avail himself much against heretics by being conversant in their books; until a certain presbyter laid it scrupulously to his conscience, how he durst venture himself among those defiling volumes. The worthy man, loath to give offence, fell into a new debate with himself what was to be thought; when suddenly a vision sent from God (it is his own epistle that so avers it) confirmed him in these words: READ ANY BOOKS WHATEVER COME TO THY HANDS, FOR THOU ART SUFFICIENT BOTH TO JUDGE ARIGHT AND TO EXAMINE EACH MATTER. To this revelation he assented the sooner, as he confesses, because it was answerable to that of the Apostle to the Thessalonians, PROVE ALL THINGS, HOLD FAST THAT WHICH IS GOOD. And he might have added another remarkable saying of the same author: TO THE PURE, ALL THINGS ARE PURE; not only meats and drinks, but all kind of knowledge whether of good or evil; the knowledge cannot defile, nor consequently the books, if the will and conscience be not defiled.

But if we agree to be judged by visions, there’s a vision recorded by Eusebius, much older than Jerome’s tale, and it’s not filled with feverish imagery. Around the year 240, Dionysius Alexandrinus was a notable figure in the Church known for his piety and learning, often using his knowledge of heretical texts to counter heretics. However, a certain presbyter raised a serious ethical concern about whether it was right for him to immerse himself in those corrupting volumes. The honorable man, reluctant to cause offense, began to question his approach; when suddenly, he received a vision from God (as he states in his own letter) that assured him with these words: READ ANY BOOKS THAT COME YOUR WAY, FOR YOU ARE ABLE TO JUDGE AND EXAMINE EVERYTHING CORRECTLY. He agreed with this revelation, he admits, because it echoed the Apostle’s advice to the Thessalonians, PROVE ALL THINGS, HOLD FAST THAT WHICH IS GOOD. He could have added another striking saying from the same author: TO THE PURE, ALL THINGS ARE PURE; not just food and drink, but all kinds of knowledge, whether it's good or evil; knowledge itself cannot defile, nor can the books, as long as the will and conscience remain untainted.

For books are as meats and viands are; some of good, some of evil substance; and yet God, in that unapocryphal vision, said without exception, RISE, PETER, KILL AND EAT, leaving the choice to each man's discretion. Wholesome meats to a vitiated stomach differ little or nothing from unwholesome; and best books to a naughty mind are not unappliable to occasions of evil. Bad meats will scarce breed good nourishment in the healthiest concoction; but herein the difference is of bad books, that they to a discreet and judicious reader serve in many respects to discover, to confute, to forewarn, and to illustrate. Whereof what better witness can ye expect I should produce, than one of your own now sitting in Parliament, the chief of learned men reputed in this land, Mr. Selden; whose volume of natural and national laws proves, not only by great authorities brought together, but by exquisite reasons and theorems almost mathematically demonstrative, that all opinions, yea errors, known, read, and collated, are of main service and assistance toward the speedy attainment of what is truest. I conceive, therefore, that when God did enlarge the universal diet of man's body, saving ever the rules of temperance, he then also, as before, left arbitrary the dieting and repasting of our minds; as wherein every mature man might have to exercise his own leading capacity.

Books are like food; some are good, and some are bad. Yet, in that well-known vision, God said without exception, "RISE, PETER, KILL AND EAT," leaving it up to each person to decide. Healthy food can be just as unappetizing to a messed-up stomach as unhealthy food; and the best books can be misused by a bad mind for harmful purposes. Bad food rarely provides good nutrition, even in the best conditions; however, bad books, for a wise and discerning reader, can serve many purposes: to reveal, to refute, to warn, and to clarify. What better example can I offer than one of your own sitting in Parliament, a highly regarded learned man in this country, Mr. Selden? His work on natural and national laws proves, through numerous well-respected sources and elegantly reasoned arguments—almost mathematically demonstrative—that all known opinions, even mistakes, are very helpful for quickly finding the truth. Therefore, I believe that when God expanded the range of food for our bodies, while still urging moderation, He also allowed us the freedom to nourish and refresh our minds; each mature individual should be able to apply their own judgment in this matter.

How great a virtue is temperance, how much of moment through the whole life of man! Yet God commits the managing so great a trust, without particular law or prescription, wholly to the demeanour of every grown man. And therefore when he himself tabled the Jews from heaven, that omer, which was every man's daily portion of manna, is computed to have been more than might have well sufficed the heartiest feeder thrice as many meals. For those actions which enter into a man, rather than issue out of him, and therefore defile not, God uses not to captivate under a perpetual childhood of prescription, but trusts him with the gift of reason to be his own chooser; there were but little work left for preaching, if law and compulsion should grow so fast upon those things which heretofore were governed only by exhortation. Solomon informs us, that much reading is a weariness to the flesh; but neither he nor other inspired author tells us that such or such reading is unlawful: yet certainly had God thought good to limit us herein, it had been much more expedient to have told us what was unlawful than what was wearisome. As for the burning of those Ephesian books by St. Paul's converts; 'tis replied the books were magic, the Syriac so renders them. It was a private act, a voluntary act, and leaves us to a voluntary imitation: the men in remorse burnt those books which were their own; the magistrate by this example is not appointed; these men practised the books, another might perhaps have read them in some sort usefully.

How valuable is self-control and how significant it is throughout a person's life! Yet God entrusts this important responsibility to every adult without specific rules or guidelines. When He provided the Jews with manna from heaven, the amount given to each person was estimated to be more than enough to satisfy the heartiest eater for multiple meals. God doesn’t impose strict rules on actions that are internal rather than external, which do not defile a person; instead, He gives each individual the gift of reason to make their own choices. If laws and compulsion took over things previously guided only by encouragement, there would be little need for preaching. Solomon tells us that excessive reading can be tiring, but neither he nor any other inspired writer says that certain reading is forbidden. It would have been more practical if God had specified what was prohibited instead of what was exhausting. Regarding the burning of those books by the converts of St. Paul in Ephesus, it’s suggested that the books were magical, as the Syriac translation indicates. This was a personal and voluntary action, encouraging us to follow suit voluntarily; remorseful individuals burned books that belonged to them. The magistrate isn’t mandated by this example, as these men practiced the books while another person might have read them usefully.

Good and evil we know in the field of this world grow up together almost inseparably; and the knowledge of good is so involved and interwoven with the knowledge of evil, and in so many cunning resemblances hardly to be discerned, that those confused seeds which were imposed upon Psyche as an incessant labour to cull out, and sort asunder, were not more intermixed. It was from out the rind of one apple tasted, that the knowledge of good and evil, as two twins cleaving together, leaped forth into the world. And perhaps this is that doom which Adam fell into of knowing good and evil, that is to say of knowing good by evil. As therefore the state of man now is; what wisdom can there be to choose, what continence to forbear without the knowledge of evil? He that can apprehend and consider vice with all her baits and seeming pleasures, and yet abstain, and yet distinguish, and yet prefer that which is truly better, he is the true warfaring Christian.

Good and evil in this world grow up almost inseparably; and the understanding of good is so intertwined with the understanding of evil, with so many clever similarities that are hard to tell apart, that those mixed-up seeds that were given to Psyche as a never-ending task to pick out and separate were not any more tangled. It was from the skin of one apple tasted that the knowledge of good and evil, like two twins stuck together, sprang forth into the world. And maybe this is the curse that Adam faced of knowing good and evil, meaning knowing good through the lens of evil. So, given the current state of humanity, what wisdom can we have to choose, what self-control to refrain without the understanding of evil? The person who can grasp and think about vice with all its temptations and false pleasures, and still abstain, distinguish, and choose what is truly better, is the true fighting Christian.

I cannot praise a fugitive and cloistered virtue, unexercised and unbreathed, that never sallies out and sees her adversary but slinks out of the race, where that immortal garland is to be run for, not without dust and heat. Assuredly we bring not innocence into the world, we bring impurity much rather; that which purifies us is trial, and trial is by what is contrary. That virtue therefore which is but a youngling in the contemplation of evil, and knows not the utmost that vice promises to her followers, and rejects it, is but a blank virtue, not a pure; her whiteness is but an excremental whiteness. Which was the reason why our sage and serious poet Spenser, whom I dare be known to think a better teacher than Scotus or Aquinas, describing true temperance under the person of Guion, brings him in with his palmer through the cave of Mammon, and the bower of earthly bliss, that he might see and know, and yet abstain. Since therefore the knowledge and survey of vice is in this world so necessary to the constituting of human virtue, and the scanning of error to the confirmation of truth, how can we more safely, and with less danger, scout into the regions of sin and falsity than by reading all manner of tractates and hearing all manner of reason? And this is the benefit which may be had of books promiscuously read.

I can’t praise a hidden and passive virtue, one that isn’t put to the test and never confronts its challenges but instead withdraws from the competition, where the true prize is won, not without some struggle and effort. We definitely don’t bring innocence into the world; we bring impurities instead; it’s through challenges that we find purification, and those challenges often come from opposing forces. So, that virtue which is merely naive in the face of evil, and doesn’t understand the full extent of what vice offers to its followers, and turns it away, is just an empty virtue, not a true one; its purity is little more than a façade. This is why our wise and serious poet Spenser, who I dare say is a better teacher than Scotus or Aquinas, portrays true temperance through Guion, showing him going with his pilgrim through the cave of Mammon and the garden of earthly delights, so he might see and understand it, yet still refrain. Since understanding and examining vice is so essential to building human virtue, and reflecting on mistakes is key to affirming truth, how can we safely and less dangerously explore the realms of sin and falsehood than by reading various writings and considering different arguments? This is the advantage of reading a wide range of books.

But of the harm that may result hence three kinds are usually reckoned. First, is feared the infection that may spread; but then all human learning and controversy in religious points must remove out of the world, yea the Bible itself; for that ofttimes relates blasphemy not nicely, it describes the carnal sense of wicked men not unelegantly, it brings in holiest men passionately murmuring against Providence through all the arguments of Epicurus: in other great disputes it answers dubiously and darkly to the common reader. And ask a Talmudist what ails the modesty of his marginal Keri, that Moses and all the prophets cannot persuade him to pronounce the textual Chetiv. For these causes we all know the Bible itself put by the Papist put by the Papist into the first rank of prohibited books. The ancientest Fathers must be next removed, as Clement of Alexandria, and that Eusebian book of Evangelic preparation, transmitting our ears through a hoard of heathenish obscenities to receive the Gospel. Who finds not that Irenaeus, Epiphanius, Jerome, and others discover more heresies than they well confute, and that oft for heresy which is the truer opinion?

But there are usually three types of harm that are considered to come from this. First, there's the fear of the infection that could spread; if that were the case, then all human knowledge and debate about religious issues would need to be removed from the world, including the Bible itself. After all, it often relates blasphemy in a troubling way, depicts the crude thoughts of wicked people without much refinement, and shows even the holiest figures passionately complaining against divine will through the arguments of Epicurus. In other significant debates, it responds ambiguously and vaguely to the average reader. And if you ask a Talmudist what troubles the modesty of his marginal Keri, he might tell you that neither Moses nor all the prophets can convince him to pronounce the textual Chetiv. For these reasons, we see that the Bible itself is ranked among the prohibited books by the Papists. The earliest Church Fathers must also be excluded, like Clement of Alexandria and that Eusebian work on Evangelic preparation, which filters our understanding through a barrage of pagan obscenities to access the Gospel. Who doesn’t notice that Irenaeus, Epiphanius, Jerome, and others point out more heresies than they effectively refute, often labeling as heresy what may actually be the truer belief?

Nor boots it to say for these, and all the heathen writers of greatest infection, if it must be thought so, with whom is bound up the life of human learning, that they writ in an unknown tongue, so long as we are sure those languages are known as well to the worst of men, who are both most able and most diligent to instil the poison they suck, first into the courts of princes, acquainting them with the choicest delights and criticisms of sin. As perhaps did that Petronius whom Nero called his Arbiter, the master of his revels; and the notorious ribald of Arezzo, dreaded and yet dear to the Italian courtiers. I name not him for posterity's sake, whom Henry VIII. named in merriment his vicar of hell. By which compendious way all the contagion that foreign books can infuse will find a passage to the people far easier and shorter than an Indian voyage, though it could be sailed either by the north of Cataio eastward, or of Canada westward, while our Spanish licensing gags the English press never so severely.

It doesn’t help to mention these and all the corrupt pagan writers, if it has to be considered that they wrote in an unknown language, as long as we know that even the worst people understand those languages, who are both most capable and most eager to spread the poison they absorb, first to the courts of princes, introducing them to the finest pleasures and critiques of sin. Perhaps like that Petronius whom Nero called his Arbiter, the master of his festivities; and the infamous libertine from Arezzo, feared yet favored by the Italian courtiers. I don’t name him for the sake of history, whom Henry VIII jokingly called his vicar of hell. Through this concise route, all the contamination that foreign books can introduce will reach the public much more easily and quickly than an Indian voyage, whether it’s sailed from the north of Cataio to the east or from Canada to the west, while our Spanish licensing tightly restrains the English press no matter how harshly.

But on the other side that infection which is from books of controversy in religion is more doubtful and dangerous to the learned than to the ignorant; and yet those books must be permitted untouched by the licenser. It will be hard to instance where any ignorant man hath been ever seduced by papistical book in English, unless it were commended and expounded to him by some of that clergy: and indeed all such tractates, whether false or true, are as the prophecy of Isaiah was to the eunuch, not to be UNDERSTOOD WITHOUT A GUIDE. But of our priests and doctors how many have been corrupted by studying the comments of Jesuits and Sorbonists, and how fast they could transfuse that corruption into the people, our experience is both late and sad. It is not forgot, since the acute and distinct Arminius was perverted merely by the perusing of a nameless discourse written at Delft, which at first he took in hand to confute.

But on the other hand, the infection that comes from books debating religion is more questionable and harmful to the educated than to the uneducated; and yet those books must be allowed without interference from the censor. It's hard to find examples of any uneducated person being misled by a Catholic book in English, unless it was recommended and explained to them by some members of the clergy. In fact, all such writings, whether false or true, are like the prophecy of Isaiah to the eunuch, not to be UNDERSTOOD WITHOUT A GUIDE. But as for our priests and scholars, how many have been corrupted by studying the writings of Jesuits and Sorbonists, and how quickly they could spread that corruption among the people, our recent experiences show to be both painful and troubling. It is still remembered that the sharp and articulate Arminius was led astray simply by reading an unnamed essay written in Delft, which he initially picked up to refute.

Seeing, therefore, that those books, and those in great abundance, which are likeliest to taint both life and doctrine, cannot be suppressed without the fall of learning and of all ability in disputation, and that these books of either sort are most and soonest catching to the learned, from whom to the common people whatever is heretical or dissolute may quickly be conveyed, and that evil manners are as perfectly learnt without books a thousand other ways which cannot be stopped, and evil doctrine not with books can propagate, except a teacher guide, which he might also do without writing, and so beyond prohibiting, I am not able to unfold, how this cautelous enterprise of licensing can be exempted from the number of vain and impossible attempts. And he who were pleasantly disposed could not well avoid to liken it to the exploit of that gallant man who thought to pound up the crows by shutting his park gate.

Seeing that the many books likely to corrupt both life and belief cannot be suppressed without harming learning and our ability to debate, and that these books attract the learned the most, who can easily pass anything heretical or immoral to the general public, and that bad behavior can be learned perfectly in countless other ways that can't be stopped, and that harmful ideas can spread without books, as a teacher can also guide without writing, I can't explain how this cautious scheme of licensing can avoid being just another pointless and impossible attempt. Anyone with a sense of humor might compare it to the story of that brave man who thought he could scare away the crows by simply closing his park gate.

Besides another inconvenience, if learned men be the first receivers out of books and dispreaders both of vice and error, how shall the licensers themselves be confided in, unless we can confer upon them, or they assume to themselves above all others in the land, the grace of infallibility and uncorruptedness? And again, if it be true that a wise man, like a good refiner, can gather gold out of the drossiest volume, and that a fool will be a fool with the best book, yea or without book; there is no reason that we should deprive a wise man of any advantage to his wisdom, while we seek to restrain from a fool, that which being restrained will be no hindrance to his folly. For if there should be so much exactness always used to keep that from him which is unfit for his reading, we should in the judgment of Aristotle not only, but of Solomon and of our Saviour, not vouchsafe him good precepts, and by consequence not willingly admit him to good books; as being certain that a wise man will make better use of an idle pamphlet, than a fool will do of sacred Scripture.

Besides another inconvenience, if educated people are the first to take in information from books and spread both vice and error, how can we trust the censors themselves, unless we give them—or they take for themselves—an infallibility and purity above everyone else in the land? And again, if it’s true that a wise person, like a good goldsmith, can extract gold from the most worthless book, and that a fool will act foolishly whether he has the best book or none at all, there’s no reason to deprive a wise person of any tool to enhance his wisdom while trying to prevent a fool from getting something that won’t hinder his foolishness. If we were to be excessively careful about keeping unfit material from him, we would, according to Aristotle, Solomon, and our Savior, deny him good teachings and therefore not willingly allow him access to good books; because we know that a wise person will make better use of a trivial pamphlet than a fool will of sacred Scripture.

'Tis next alleged we must not expose ourselves to temptations without necessity, and next to that, not employ our time in vain things. To both these objections one answer will serve, out of the grounds already laid, that to all men such books are not temptations, nor vanities, but useful drugs and materials wherewith to temper and compose effective and strong medicines, which man's life cannot want. The rest, as children and childish men, who have not the art to qualify and prepare these working minerals, well may be exhorted to forbear, but hindered forcibly they cannot be by all the licensing that Sainted Inquisition could ever yet contrive. Which is what I promised to deliver next: that this order of licensing conduces nothing to the end for which it was framed; and hath almost prevented me by being clear already while thus much hath been explaining. See the ingenuity of Truth, who, when she gets a free and willing hand, opens herself faster than the pace of method and discourse can overtake her.

It's next claimed that we shouldn't expose ourselves to temptations unless necessary, and also that we shouldn't waste our time on pointless things. For both of these points, one answer suffices based on the groundwork we've already established: for many, such books aren't temptations or frivolities but useful tools and resources to create effective and powerful remedies, which are essential for life. As for those who are naive or immature, lacking the skill to use and prepare these valuable resources, they may be urged to refrain, but they can't be forcibly stopped by all the restrictions that the Holy Inquisition could ever devise. This brings me to my next point: that this system of licensing does nothing to achieve its intended purpose; in fact, it has nearly made my argument clear even as I've been explaining this much. Observe the cleverness of Truth, which, when given a free hand, reveals itself faster than the speed at which method and discussion can keep up.

It was the task which I began with, to show that no nation, or well-instituted state, if they valued books at all, did ever use this way of licensing; and it might be answered, that this is a piece of prudence lately discovered. To which I return, that as it was a thing slight and obvious to think on, so if it had been difficult to find out, there wanted not among them long since who suggested such a course; which they not following, leave us a pattern of their judgment that it was not the rest knowing, but the not approving, which was the cause of their not using it.

It was my initial goal to demonstrate that no nation or well-structured state, if they valued books at all, ever used this method of licensing. One could argue that this is a recent discovery of prudence. However, I maintain that it was such a simple and obvious idea that if it had been difficult to figure out, there would have been those among them who suggested it long ago. Their choice not to adopt it shows that it wasn't because they didn't know about it, but because they disapproved of it, which explains why they didn't use it.

Plato, a man of high authority, indeed, but least of all for his Commonwealth, in the book of his Laws, which no city ever yet received, fed his fancy by making many edicts to his airy burgomasters, which they who otherwise admire him wish had been rather buried and excused in the genial cups of an Academic night sitting. By which laws he seems to tolerate no kind of learning but by unalterable decree, consisting most of practical traditions, to the attainment whereof a library of smaller bulk than his own Dialogues would be abundant. And there also enacts, that no poet should so much as read to any private man what he had written, until the judges and law-keepers had seen it, and allowed it. But that Plato meant this law peculiarly to that commonwealth which he had imagined, and to no other, is evident. Why was he not else a lawgiver to himself, but a transgressor, and to be expelled by his own magistrates; both for the wanton epigrams and dialogues which he made, and his perpetual reading of Sophron Mimus and Aristophanes, books of grossest infamy, and also for commending the latter of them, though he were the malicious libeller of his chief friends, to be read by the tyrant Dionysius, who had little need of such trash to spend his time on? But that he knew this licensing of poems had reference and dependence to many other provisos there set down in his fancied republic, which in this world could have no place: and so neither he himself, nor any magistrate or city, ever imitated that course, which, taken apart from those other collateral injunctions, must needs be vain and fruitless. For if they fell upon one kind of strictness, unless their care were equal to regulate all other things of like aptness to corrupt the mind, that single endeavour they knew would be but a fond labour; to shut and fortify one gate against corruption, and be necessitated to leave others round about wide open.

Plato was a respected figure, but not particularly for his idea of a perfect society. In his book "Laws," which no city ever adopted, he indulged his imagination by creating many rules for his imaginary leaders, which those who admire him would rather see forgotten, perhaps over a pleasant discussion at an academic gathering. These laws seem to allow for no form of learning except through strict regulations, mostly consisting of practical traditions, for which a smaller library than his own Dialogues would be more than enough. He also mandated that no poet could even read their work to anyone privately until it had been approved by judges and law enforcement. However, it's clear that Plato intended this law specifically for the fictional society he imagined, and not for any real community. Why else would he not model himself as a lawgiver but instead act as a rule-breaker, deserving to be removed by his own leaders for the playful epigrams and dialogues he wrote, as well as for frequently reading works by Sophron Mimus and Aristophanes—books known for their scandalous content? He even encouraged the latter to be read by the tyrant Dionysius, who had no need for such nonsense. It's evident that he realized this control over poetry was linked to many other conditions laid out in his imagined republic, which couldn't exist in reality. Therefore, neither he nor any magistrate or city ever followed that approach because, if taken without the other related rules, it would be pointless and ineffective. If they focused on one strict rule without equally addressing all other aspects that could corrupt the mind, they understood it would be a foolish effort—trying to close one gate against corruption while leaving many others wide open.

If we think to regulate printing, thereby to rectify manners, we must regulate all recreation and pastimes, all that is delightful to man. No music must be heard, no song be set or sung, but what is grave and Doric. There must be licensing dancers, that no gesture, motion, or deportment be taught our youth but what by their allowance shall be thought honest; for such Plato was provided of. It will ask more than the work of twenty licensers to examine all the lutes, the violins, and the guitars in every house; they must not be suffered to prattle as they do, but must be licensed what they may say. And who shall silence all the airs and madrigals that whisper softness in chambers? The windows also, and the balconies must be thought on; there are shrewd books, with dangerous frontispieces, set to sale; who shall prohibit them, shall twenty licensers? The villages also must have their visitors to inquire what lectures the bagpipe and the rebeck reads, even to the ballatry and the gamut of every municipal fiddler, for these are the countryman's Arcadias, and his Monte Mayors.

If we're thinking about regulating printing to improve behavior, we need to regulate all forms of entertainment and leisure, everything that brings joy to people. No music should be played, no songs sung except for those that are serious and traditional. We should license dancers, so that no gestures, movements, or behavior are taught to our youth unless they are approved as proper. Plato had similar ideas. It would take more than twenty regulators to inspect all the lutes, violins, and guitars in every home; they shouldn’t be allowed to talk freely as they do but should be regulated on what they can say. And who will silence all the songs and tunes that softly echo in private spaces? We also need to consider the windows and balconies; there are risque books with provocative covers being sold—who will ban them, twenty regulators? The villages too will need inspectors to see what the bagpipes and fiddles are playing, right down to the songs of every local musician, because these are the rural people's entertainment and their joys.

Next, what more national corruption, for which England hears ill abroad, than household gluttony: who shall be the rectors of our daily rioting? And what shall be done to inhibit the multitudes that frequent those houses where drunkenness is sold and harboured? Our garments also should be referred to the licensing of some more sober workmasters to see them cut into a less wanton garb. Who shall regulate all the mixed conversation of our youth, male and female together, as is the fashion of this country? Who shall still appoint what shall be discoursed, what presumed, and no further? Lastly, who shall forbid and separate all idle resort, all evil company? These things will be, and must be; but how they shall be least hurtful, how least enticing, herein consists the grave and governing wisdom of a state.

Next, what greater national corruption could England face than our own household excess: who will be the ones to manage our daily indulgences? And what can we do to stop the crowds that visit those places where drinking is both sold and encouraged? We should also have our clothing overseen by some more responsible tailors to make it less revealing. Who will oversee the mixed interactions of our youth, both boys and girls together, as is the trend in this country? Who will decide what can be discussed, what can be assumed, and nothing more? Finally, who will ban and separate all idle gatherings and bad company? These issues will exist, and they must be addressed; but how to make them the least harmful, the least tempting, this is where the serious and governing wisdom of a state comes in.

To sequester out of the world into Atlantic and Utopian polities, which never can be drawn into use, will not mend our condition; but to ordain wisely as in this world of evil, in the midst whereof God hath placed us unavoidably. Nor is it Plato's licensing of books will do this, which necessarily pulls along with it so many other kinds of licensing, as will make us all both ridiculous and weary, and yet frustrate; but those unwritten, or at least unconstraining, laws of virtuous education, religious and civil nurture, which Plato there mentions as the bonds and ligaments of the commonwealth, the pillars and the sustainers of every written statute; these they be which will bear chief sway in such matters as these, when all licensing will be easily eluded. Impunity and remissness, for certain, are the bane of a commonwealth; but here the great art lies, to discern in what the law is to bid restraint and punishment, and in what things persuasion only is to work.

Secluding ourselves in Atlantic and Utopian societies that can never be put into practice won’t improve our situation. Instead, we need to act wisely in this world of evil where God has placed us. Plato’s idea of allowing books won't solve this either, as it leads to many other types of licensing that make us look foolish and tired, and still leave us frustrated. What will truly matter are those unwritten, or at least non-restrictive, principles of good education and moral and civic guidance that Plato mentions as the bonds and supports of society, the foundation for all written laws. These are what will be most influential in situations like this, especially when all licensing can be easily bypassed. Certainly, lack of consequences and leniency are harmful to a society, but the real skill lies in knowing when the law should enforce restraint and punishment, and when only persuasion will suffice.

If every action, which is good or evil in man at ripe years, were to be under pittance and prescription and compulsion, what were virtue but a name, what praise could be then due to well-doing, what gramercy to be sober, just, or continent? Many there be that complain of divine Providence for suffering Adam to transgress; foolish tongues! When God gave him reason, he gave him freedom to choose, for reason is but choosing; he had been else a mere artificial Adam, such an Adam as he is in the motions. We ourselves esteem not of that obedience, or love, or gift, which is of force: God therefore left him free, set before him a provoking object, ever almost in his eyes; herein consisted his merit, herein the right of his reward, the praise of his abstinence. Wherefore did he create passions within us, pleasures round about us, but that these rightly tempered are the very ingredients of virtue?

If every good or bad action we take as adults had to be regulated and forced, what would virtue even mean? What praise could be given for doing good, or gratitude for being sober, just, or self-controlled? Many people complain about divine Providence for allowing Adam to sin; what foolishness! When God gave him reason, He also gave him the freedom to choose because reason is all about making choices. Otherwise, Adam would have just been a made-up version of himself, like a robot. We don't value obedience, love, or gifts that are forced upon us. So, God kept him free and put a tempting object within his sight; this is where his merit lies, and it’s what justifies his reward and the praise for his self-control. Why else would He create passions within us and pleasures around us, if not to show that, when balanced, they are the essential parts of virtue?

They are not skilful considerers of human things, who imagine to remove sin by removing the matter of sin; for, besides that it is a huge heap increasing under the very act of diminishing, though some part of it may for a time be withdrawn from some persons, it cannot from all, in such a universal thing as books are; and when this is done, yet the sin remains entire. Though ye take from a covetous man all his treasure, he has yet one jewel left, ye cannot bereave him of his covetousness. Banish all objects of lust, shut up all youth into the severest discipline that can be exercised in any hermitage, ye cannot make them chaste, that came not hither so; such great care and wisdom is required to the right managing of this point. Suppose we could expel sin by this means; look how much we thus expel of sin, so much we expel of virtue: for the matter of them both is the same; remove that, and ye remove them both alike.

They are not skilled observers of human behavior who think they can eliminate sin by getting rid of the things that cause it; for, in addition to the fact that it only increases while trying to decrease, even if some of it may temporarily be taken away from certain individuals, it cannot be removed from everyone, especially in something as widespread as books. And even after this is done, the sin still persists. If you take away all of a greedy person's wealth, they still hold onto their greed; you cannot strip them of that desire. If you banish all temptations of lust and confine young people to the strictest discipline imaginable in some secluded place, you cannot make them chaste if they didn't arrive that way; it takes a lot of care and wisdom to handle this issue properly. Even if we could drive out sin this way, for every bit of sin we remove, we also remove a part of virtue: because both are made of the same substance; take that away, and you eliminate both equally.

This justifies the high providence of God, who, though he command us temperance, justice, continence, yet pours out before us, even to a profuseness, all desirable things, and gives us minds that can wander beyond all limit and satiety. Why should we then affect a rigour contrary to the manner of God and of nature, by abridging or scanting those means, which books freely permitted are, both to the trial of virtue and the exercise of truth? It would be better done, to learn that the law must needs be frivolous, which goes to restrain things, uncertainly and yet equally working to good and to evil. And were I the chooser, a dream of well-doing should be preferred before many times as much the forcible hindrance of evil-doing. For God sure esteems the growth and completing of one virtuous person more than the restraint of ten vicious.

This shows the great wisdom of God, who, even though He commands us to be moderate, just, and self-disciplined, generously provides us with all the things we desire, and gives us minds that can explore without limits or fullness. So why should we adopt a strictness that goes against God’s and nature’s way by limiting those resources which books freely offer, both for testing virtue and exercising truth? It would be better to recognize that a law is likely pointless if it seeks to restrict things that can equally lead to good or evil. If I had a choice, I would choose a vision of doing good over many efforts to forcibly prevent wrongdoing. For certainly, God values the growth and completion of one virtuous person more than the restraint of ten wicked ones.

And albeit whatever thing we hear or see, sitting, walking, travelling, or conversing, may be fitly called our book, and is of the same effect that writings are, yet grant the thing to be prohibited were only books, it appears that this Order hitherto is far insufficient to the end which it intends. Do we not see, not once or oftener, but weekly, that continued court-libel against the Parliament and City, printed, as the wet sheets can witness, and dispersed among us, for all that licensing can do? Yet this is the prime service a man would think, wherein this Order should give proof of itself. If it were executed, you'll say. But certain, if execution be remiss or blindfold now, and in this particular, what will it be hereafter and in other books? If then the Order shall not be vain and frustrate, behold a new labour, Lords and Commons, ye must repeal and proscribe all scandalous and unlicensed books already printed and divulged; after ye have drawn them up into a list, that all may know which are condemned, and which not; and ordain that no foreign books be delivered out of custody, till they have been read over. This office will require the whole time of not a few overseers, and those no vulgar men. There be also books which are partly useful and excellent, partly culpable and pernicious; this work will ask as many more officials, to make expurgations and expunctions, that the commonwealth of learning be not damnified. In fine, when the multitude of books increase upon their hands, ye must be fain to catalogue all those printers who are found frequently offending, and forbid the importation of their whole suspected typography. In a word, that this your Order may be exact and not deficient, ye must reform it perfectly according to the model of Trent and Seville, which I know ye abhor to do.

Even though everything we hear or see—sitting, walking, traveling, or talking—can be called our book and have the same impact as written works, if we just consider the prohibited items to be only books, it’s clear that this Order is far from sufficient for its intended purpose. Don’t we see, not just once but weekly, that continuous slander against Parliament and the City is printed, as the fresh sheets can show, and spread among us, despite all that licensing can do? This should be the main area where one would expect this Order to prove itself. You might say it would be effective if it were enforced. But if enforcement is lax or blindfolded now, especially in this matter, what will it be like in the future and with other books? If this Order is not to be useless and a failure, listen up, Lords and Commons: you need to repeal and ban all scandalous and unlicensed books already printed and circulated; after compiling a list so that everyone knows which are condemned and which are not; and require that no foreign books are released from custody until they have been reviewed. This task will need the full attention of several overseers, and those won’t be ordinary individuals. There are also books that are partly useful and excellent, and partly harmful and dangerous; this effort will require even more officials to make deletions and corrections so that the commonwealth of knowledge isn’t damaged. Ultimately, as the number of books increases, you will need to catalogue all those printers who frequently misbehave and ban the importation of their entire questionable publications. In summary, for your Order to be thorough and not lacking, you must reform it completely according to the model of Trent and Seville, which I know you dislike doing.

Yet though ye should condescend to this, which God forbid, the Order still would be but fruitless and defective to that end whereto ye meant it. If to prevent sects and schisms, who is so unread or so uncatechized in story, that hath not heard of many sects refusing books as a hindrance, and preserving their doctrine unmixed for many ages, only by unwritten traditions? The Christian faith, for that was once a schism, is not unknown to have spread all over Asia, ere any Gospel or Epistle was seen in writing. If the amendment of manners be aimed at, look into Italy and Spain, whether those places be one scruple the better, the honester, the wiser, the chaster, since all the inquisitional rigour that hath been executed upon books.

Yet even if you were to agree to this, which God forbid, the Order would still be ineffective and flawed for the purpose you intended. If the goal is to prevent divisions and sects, who is so uninformed or lacking in knowledge of history that they haven't heard of many groups rejecting books as obstacles, and keeping their beliefs pure for countless generations solely through oral traditions? The Christian faith, which was once a division itself, is well-known to have spread throughout Asia long before any Gospel or letter was ever written down. If the aim is to improve people's behavior, just look at Italy and Spain; can you honestly say those places are any better, more honest, wiser, or more virtuous after all the rigorous censorship imposed on books?

Another reason, whereby to make it plain that this Order will miss the end it seeks, consider by the quality which ought to be in every licenser. It cannot be denied but that he who is made judge to sit upon the birth or death of books, whether they may be wafted into this world or not, had need to be a man above the common measure, both studious, learned, and judicious; there may be else no mean mistakes in the censure of what is passable or not; which is also no mean injury. If he be of such worth as behooves him, there cannot be a more tedious and unpleasing journey-work, a greater loss of time levied upon his head, than to be made the perpetual reader of unchosen books and pamphlets, ofttimes huge volumes. There is no book that is acceptable unless at certain seasons; but to be enjoined the reading of that at all times, and in a hand scarce legible, whereof three pages would not down at any time in the fairest print, is an imposition which I cannot believe how he that values time and his own studies, or is but of a sensible nostril, should be able to endure. In this one thing I crave leave of the present licensers to be pardoned for so thinking; who doubtless took this office up, looking on it through their obedience to the Parliament, whose command perhaps made all things seem easy and unlaborious to them; but that this short trial hath wearied them out already, their own expressions and excuses to them who make so many journeys to solicit their licence are testimony enough. Seeing therefore those who now possess the employment by all evident signs wish themselves well rid of it; and that no man of worth, none that is not a plain unthrift of his own hours, is ever likely to succeed them, except he mean to put himself to the salary of a press corrector; we may easily foresee what kind of licensers we are to expect hereafter, either ignorant, imperious, and remiss, or basely pecuniary. This is what I had to show, wherein this Order cannot conduce to that end whereof it bears the intention.

Another reason to make it clear that this Order will fail to achieve its goals is the quality that every licenser should have. It’s undeniable that someone tasked with deciding whether books can be published or not needs to be exceptional—knowledgeable, learned, and discerning. Otherwise, there could be significant errors in judging what is acceptable or not, which is also a serious harm. If he possesses the qualifications he should, there’s no more tedious and frustrating task than having to read countless unfiltered books and pamphlets, often long ones. No book is appealing at all times, but being forced to read them constantly, especially when they’re barely legible and a struggle to read—even the best print won’t make three pages digestible—it's a burden that I can’t understand how anyone who values their time and studies, or isn’t completely oblivious, could endure. I ask for the current licensers to forgive me for thinking this; they undoubtedly took on this role with their commitment to Parliament, thinking it would be easy and not demanding. However, this brief experience has already exhausted them, as their own comments and justifications to those who come to seek their approval prove. Given that those currently in this role clearly want to be done with it, and that no capable person, no one who respects their own time, is likely to take it on unless they want to become a proofreader, we can easily predict the type of licensers we can expect in the future: either uninformed, authoritative, and lazy, or simply motivated by money. This is what I wanted to point out, showing how this Order cannot achieve the purpose it claims to seek.

I lastly proceed from the no good it can do, to the manifest hurt it causes, in being first the greatest discouragement and affront that can be offered to learning, and to learned men.

I finally move from the fact that it does no good to the clear harm it causes, as it is the greatest discouragement and insult that can be presented to education and those who are educated.

It was the complaint and lamentation of prelates, upon every least breath of a motion to remove pluralities, and distribute more equally Church revenues, that then all learning would be for ever dashed and discouraged. But as for that opinion, I never found cause to think that the tenth part of learning stood or fell with the clergy: nor could I ever but hold it for a sordid and unworthy speech of any churchman who had a competency left him. If therefore ye be loath to dishearten utterly and discontent, not the mercenary crew of false pretenders to learning, but the free and ingenuous sort of such as evidently were born to study, and love learning for itself, not for lucre or any other end but the service of God and of truth, and perhaps that lasting fame and perpetuity of praise which God and good men have consented shall be the reward of those whose published labours advance the good of mankind; then know that, so far to distrust the judgment and the honesty of one who hath but a common repute in learning, and never yet offended, as not to count him fit to print his mind without a tutor and examiner, lest he should drop a schism, or something of corruption, is the greatest displeasure and indignity to a free and knowing spirit that can be put upon him.

It was the complaint and lament of church leaders every time there was even a hint of a move to eliminate multiple church positions and distribute church revenue more fairly. They claimed that this would forever crush and discourage learning. However, I’ve never found any reason to believe that even a small portion of learning depended on the clergy; I’ve always considered it a petty and unworthy remark from any church member who has enough for themselves. So, if you want to avoid completely discouraging and alienating not the greedy impostors pretending to be scholars, but the genuine and passionate individuals who are clearly meant to study and love learning for its own sake, not for profit or any other reason except serving God and truth, and maybe the lasting recognition and praise that good people and God have agreed will reward those whose work benefits humanity; then understand that doubting the judgment and integrity of someone who has a decent reputation in learning, who has never done wrong, to the extent that you wouldn’t consider them fit to share their thoughts without a supervisor or examiner, for fear they might express a divisive or corrupt idea, is the biggest insult and disrespect you can show to a free and knowledgeable mind.

What advantage is it to be a man, over it is to be a boy at school, if we have only escaped the ferula to come under the fescue of an Imprimatur; if serious and elaborate writings, as if they were no more than the theme of a grammar-lad under his pedagogue, must not be uttered without the cursory eyes of a temporizing and extemporizing licenser? He who is not trusted with his own actions, his drift not being known to be evil, and standing to the hazard of law and penalty, has no great argument to think himself reputed in the Commonwealth wherein he was born for other than a fool or a foreigner. When a man writes to the world, he summons up all his reason and deliberation to assist him; he searches, meditates, is industrious, and likely consults and confers with his judicious friends; after all which done he takes himself to be informed in what he writes, as well as any that writ before him. If, in this the most consummate act of his fidelity and ripeness, no years, no industry, no former proof of his abilities can bring him to that state of maturity, as not to be still mistrusted and suspected, unless he carry all his considerate diligence, all his midnight watchings and expense of Palladian oil, to the hasty view of an unleisured licenser, perhaps much his younger, perhaps his inferior in judgment, perhaps one who never knew the labour of bookwriting, and if he be not repulsed or slighted, must appear in print like a puny with his guardian, and his censor's hand on the back of his title to be his bail and surety that he is no idiot or seducer, it cannot be but a dishonour and derogation to the author, to the book, to the privilege and dignity of learning.

What’s the point of being a man if it’s just trading one authority for another, like swapping the ruler for a stamp of approval? If serious writing is treated like a school assignment that can’t be shared without a quick glance from a licensing authority—who might just be a temporary figure—and if that authority is expected to give a thumbs-up on ideas as if they’re not worthwhile until they’ve been vetted, then what does that say about the writer? If a person isn’t trusted to act independently, even when their intentions are good and they risk legal repercussions, they have little reason to believe they’re seen as anything more than a fool or an outsider in the society where they live. When someone writes for the world, they gather all their reasoning and careful thought; they research, reflect, work hard, and likely consult wise friends. After all that, they believe they’re as knowledgeable as anyone who has written before them. If, in this ultimate test of their dedication and maturity, no amount of experience, hard work, or proven skills can earn them the trust to proceed without scrutiny—having to submit all their careful work, late-night efforts, and thoughtful insights to the quick glance of an overworked license reviewer, who may be younger or less experienced, or someone who has never dealt with the struggles of writing—then if they’re not dismissed outright, their work must nonetheless appear as if they're dependent on someone else’s approval, like a child with a guardian. With the censor’s stamp on the cover as a guarantee that they’re not a fool or a troublemaker, it’s nothing short of a disgrace to the author, the book, and the respect and value of learning.

And what if the author shall be one so copious of fancy, as to have many things well worth the adding come into his mind after licensing, while the book is yet under the press, which not seldom happens to the best and diligentest writers; and that perhaps a dozen times in one book? The printer dares not go beyond his licensed copy; so often then must the author trudge to his leave-giver, that those his new insertions may be viewed; and many a jaunt will be made, ere that licenser, for it must be the same man, can either be found, or found at leisure; meanwhile either the press must stand still, which is no small damage, or the author lose his accuratest thoughts, and send the book forth worse than he had made it, which to a diligent writer is the greatest melancholy and vexation that can befall.

And what if the author is so full of ideas that he thinks of many things worth adding after getting approval, while the book is still being printed? This often happens to even the best and most hardworking writers; sometimes a dozen times in one book! The printer can’t go beyond the approved version, so the author has to keep going back to the person who gave the approval, so those new additions can be reviewed. Many trips will be made before that same person can be found and has time to look over them. Meanwhile, either the printing has to stop, which is a big loss, or the author has to publish the book with less-than-perfect ideas, which for a dedicated writer is the worst frustration and sadness that can happen.

And how can a man teach with authority, which is the life of teaching; how can he be a doctor in his book as he ought to be, or else had better be silent, whenas all he teaches, all he delivers, is but under the tuition, under the correction of his patriarchal licenser to blot or alter what precisely accords not with the hidebound humour which he calls his judgment? When every acute reader, upon the first sight of a pedantic licence, will be ready with these like words to ding the book a quoit's distance from him: I hate a pupil teacher, I endure not an instructor that comes to me under the wardship of an overseeing fist. I know nothing of the licenser, but that I have his own hand here for his arrogance; who shall warrant me his judgment? The State, sir, replies the stationer, but has a quick return: The State shall be my governors, but not my critics; they may be mistaken in the choice of a licenser, as easily as this licenser may be mistaken in an author; this is some common stuff; and he might add from Sir Francis Bacon, THAT SUCH AUTHORIZED BOOKS ARE BUT THE LANGUAGE OF THE TIMES. For though a licenser should happen to be judicious more than ordinary, which will be a great jeopardy of the next succession, yet his very office and his commission enjoins him to let pass nothing but what is vulgarly received already.

And how can a person teach with real authority, which is essential for teaching? How can they be a true expert in their field as they should be, or else they might as well stay quiet, when everything they teach, everything they communicate, is under the control and correction of their authoritative censor, who will erase or change anything that doesn’t fit with their rigid ideas about what they consider good judgment? When every sharp reader, upon first encountering a pompous license, will be ready to throw the book away, saying: I can’t stand a teacher who is just a student, I won’t tolerate a guide who comes to me under the supervision of an overseeing hand. I know nothing about the censor except that I have his signature here, marking his arrogance; who guarantees his judgment? The State, sir, replies the publisher, but he quickly counters: The State can be my governors, but not my critics; they might easily make a mistake in choosing a censor, just as this censor might mistake an author’s work; this is just common nonsense; and he could add from Sir Francis Bacon, THAT SUCH AUTHORIZED BOOKS ARE JUST THE LANGUAGE OF THE TIMES. For even if a censor happens to be exceptionally wise, which could greatly endanger the future, his very job and his authority require him to approve only what is already widely accepted.

Nay, which is more lamentable, if the work of any deceased author, though never so famous in his lifetime and even to this day, come to their hands for licence to be printed, or reprinted, if there be found in his book one sentence of a venturous edge, uttered in the height of zeal (and who knows whether it might not be the dictate of a divine spirit?) yet not suiting with every low decrepit humour of their own, though it were Knox himself, the reformer of a kingdom, that spake it, they will not pardon him their dash: the sense of that great man shall to all posterity be lost, for the fearfulness or the presumptuous rashness of a perfunctory licenser. And to what an author this violence hath been lately done, and in what book of greatest consequence to be faithfully published, I could now instance, but shall forbear till a more convenient season.

No, what's even more tragic is that if the work of any deceased author, no matter how famous they were during their lifetime and even now, comes into their hands for permission to be printed or reprinted, if there’s a single bold sentence in their book, spoken in a moment of passion (and who knows if it might not have been inspired by a divine spirit?), but it doesn’t align with their own narrow, tired views, even if it was spoken by Knox himself, the reformer of a kingdom, they won't forgive him for that. The wisdom of that great man will be lost to future generations because of the fear or the arrogant rashness of a routine licenser. And I could mention which author has recently suffered this injustice and in which book of significant importance that should be published faithfully, but I will hold off until a more appropriate time.

Yet if these things be not resented seriously and timely by them who have the remedy in their power, but that such iron-moulds as these shall have authority to gnaw out the choicest periods of exquisitest books, and to commit such a treacherous fraud against the orphan remainders of worthiest men after death, the more sorrow will belong to that hapless race of men, whose misfortune it is to have understanding. Henceforth let no man care to learn, or care to be more than worldly-wise; for certainly in higher matters to be ignorant and slothful, to be a common steadfast dunce, will be the only pleasant life, and only in request.

But if these issues aren’t taken seriously and addressed in a timely manner by those who have the power to fix them, and if these oppressive forces are allowed to erase the best parts of the finest books and commit such a betrayal against the great legacies of deserving individuals after they pass away, then the more sadness will fall upon that unfortunate group of people who have the ability to understand. From now on, let no one bother to learn or strive to be more than simply street-smart; because in more profound matters, being ignorant and lazy, being an unyielding fool, will be the only pleasant way to live and the only thing that’s valued.

And it is a particular disesteem of every knowing person alive, and most injurious to the written labours and monuments of the dead, so to me it seems an undervaluing and vilifying of the whole nation. I cannot set so light by all the invention, the art, the wit, the grave and solid judgment which is in England, as that it can be comprehended in any twenty capacities how good soever, much less that it should not pass except their superintendence be over it, except it be sifted and strained with their strainers, that it should be uncurrent without their manual stamp. Truth and understanding are not such wares as to be monopolized and traded in by tickets and statutes and standards. We must not think to make a staple commodity of all the knowledge in the land, to mark and licence it like our broadcloth and our woolpacks. What is it but a servitude like that imposed by the Philistines, not to be allowed the sharpening of our own axes and coulters, but we must repair from all quarters to twenty licensing forges? Had anyone written and divulged erroneous things and scandalous to honest life, misusing and forfeiting the esteem had of his reason among men, if after conviction this only censure were adjudged him that he should never henceforth write but what were first examined by an appointed officer, whose hand should be annexed to pass his credit for him that now he might be safely read; it could not be apprehended less than a disgraceful punishment. Whence to include the whole nation, and those that never yet thus offended, under such a diffident and suspectful prohibition, may plainly be understood what a disparagement it is. So much the more, whenas debtors and delinquents may walk abroad without a keeper, but unoffensive books must not stir forth without a visible jailer in their title.

It's a real shame that knowledgeable people today look down on this, and it's seriously harmful to the work of those who have passed away. To me, it undervalues and discredits the entire nation. I can't possibly believe that all the creativity, artistry, intelligence, and serious judgment in England can be reduced to just twenty individuals, no matter how skilled they are. Even less can I accept that something is only valid if they oversee it, or that it needs to be filtered through their standards and requires their stamp of approval to be accepted. Truth and knowledge shouldn’t be treated like goods that can be monopolized, sold, or regulated by rules and regulations. We shouldn't try to turn all the knowledge in the country into a commodity, marked and licensed like our broadcloth and wool bales. Isn't it a kind of servitude, like the one the Philistines imposed, where we're not allowed to sharpen our own tools and have to go to a dozen licensing places? If someone had written and spread false and scandalous ideas, ruining their reputation, and the only punishment they received was that they could only write with prior approval from a designated examiner who would vouch for them, that would be seen as a humiliating penalty. To treat the entire nation, including those who have never committed such offenses, with such suspicion shows what a disgrace it is. It’s even more ridiculous considering that debtors and wrongdoers can go about their business without supervision, while innocent books can’t be published without a public overseer in their title.

Nor is it to the common people less than a reproach; for if we be so jealous over them, as that we dare not trust them with an English pamphlet, what do we but censure them for a giddy, vicious, and ungrounded people; in such a sick and weak state of faith and discretion, as to be able to take nothing down but through the pipe of a licenser? That this is care or love of them, we cannot pretend, whenas, in those popish places where the laity are most hated and despised, the same strictness is used over them. Wisdom we cannot call it, because it stops but one breach of licence, nor that neither: whenas those corruptions, which it seeks to prevent, break in faster at other doors which cannot be shut.

It’s also a shame for the common people; if we are so worried about them that we can’t even trust them with an English pamphlet, aren’t we just saying they’re a foolish, corrupt, and unreliable group? They must be in such a weak state of faith and judgment that they can only understand things through a censored version. We can’t call this care or love for them, especially when in those places where the general public is most hated and looked down upon, the same strict rules apply. We can’t call it wisdom either, because it only prevents one kind of licensing issue, and not even that effectively: the problems it tries to stop are coming in faster through other ways that can’t be closed off.

And in conclusion it reflects to the disrepute of our ministers also, of whose labours we should hope better, and of the proficiency which their flock reaps by them, than that after all this light of the Gospel which is, and is to be, and all this continual preaching, they should still be frequented with such an unprincipled, unedified and laic rabble, as that the whiff of every new pamphlet should stagger them out of their catechism and Christian walking. This may have much reason to discourage the ministers when such a low conceit is had of all their exhortations, and the benefiting of their hearers, as that they are not thought fit to be turned loose to three sheets of paper without a licenser; that all the sermons, all the lectures preached, printed, vented in such numbers, and such volumes, as have now well nigh made all other books unsaleable, should not be armour enough against one single Enchiridion, without the castle of St. Angelo of an Imprimatur.

And in conclusion, this also reflects poorly on our ministers, from whom we should expect better efforts and more meaningful results for their followers. After all the light of the Gospel — past, present, and future — and all the constant preaching, it’s disheartening that they still have to deal with such an unprincipled, uninformed crowd. It’s alarming that the mere scent of every new pamphlet can throw them off their catechism and Christian living. This must be quite discouraging for the ministers, considering that there's such a low opinion of their teachings and the impact on their listeners, to the point where people think they aren't even capable of handling three sheets of paper without official approval. That all the sermons and lectures, preached, printed, and distributed in such overwhelming quantities that they’ve almost made other books unsellable, should not be strong enough protection against a single manual without the seal of approval from the Imprimatur.

And lest some should persuade ye, Lords and Commons, that these arguments of learned men's discouragement at this your Order are mere flourishes, and not real, I could recount what I have seen and heard in other countries, where this kind of inquisition tyrannizes; when I have sat among their learned men, for that honour I had, and been counted happy to be born in such a place of philosophic freedom, as they supposed England was, while themselves did nothing but bemoan the servile condition into which learning amongst them was brought; that this was it which had damped the glory of Italian wits; that nothing had been there written now these many years but flattery and fustian. There it was that I found and visited the famous Galileo, grown old, a prisoner to the Inquisition, for thinking in astronomy otherwise than the Franciscan and Dominican licensers thought. And though I knew that England then was groaning loudest under the prelatical yoke, nevertheless I took it as a pledge of future happiness, that other nations were so persuaded of her liberty. Yet was it beyond my hope that those worthies were then breathing in her air, who should be her leaders to such a deliverance, as shall never be forgotten by any revolution of time that this world hath to finish. When that was once begun, it was as little in my fear that what words of complaint I heard among learned men of other parts uttered against the Inquisition, the same I should hear by as learned men at home, uttered in time of Parliament against an order of licensing; and that so generally that, when I had disclosed myself a companion of their discontent, I might say, if without envy, that he whom an honest quaestorship had endeared to the Sicilians was not more by them importuned against Verres, than the favourable opinion which I had among many who honour ye, and are known and respected by ye, loaded me with entreaties and persuasions, that I would not despair to lay together that which just reason should bring into my mind, toward the removal of an undeserved thraldom upon learning. That this is not therefore the disburdening of a particular fancy, but the common grievance of all those who had prepared their minds and studies above the vulgar pitch to advance truth in others, and from others to entertain it, thus much may satisfy.

And so that no one tries to convince you, Lords and Commons, that the concerns of learned individuals about your Order are just empty words and not serious, I could share what I have seen and heard in other countries where such inquisitions are oppressive; when I sat among their intellectuals, which was a privilege I had, and felt fortunate to be born in a place of philosophical freedom, as they believed England was, while they lamented the pitiful state of learning in their own land; that this was what had stifled the brilliance of Italian minds; that nothing of value had been written there for many years, only flattery and nonsense. There I found and visited the famous Galileo, aged and imprisoned by the Inquisition for thinking differently about astronomy than the Franciscan and Dominican censors did. And even though I knew that England was then suffering greatly under the prelatical burden, I still took it as a sign of future happiness that other nations believed in her liberty. Yet it was beyond my expectation that such remarkable individuals were then alive in her midst, who would lead her toward a deliverance that would be remembered throughout time. Once that began, it was not surprising to me that the complaints I heard from learned individuals in other places about the Inquisition were echoed by equally learned individuals at home during Parliament regarding a licensing system; and so widely that, when I revealed myself as someone who shared their discontent, I could say, without envy, that a man who had gained the Sicilians' favor through honest public service was no more urged by them to act against Verres than I was by those who respect and honor you, to consider that I should not lose hope in bringing together what just reason should inspire in order to free learning from an undeserved bondage. This is not merely the concern of a single person, but the shared grievance of all those who have prepared their minds and studies beyond the ordinary to promote truth in others and appreciate it from others, as this should be enough to demonstrate.

And in their name I shall for neither friend nor foe conceal what the general murmur is; that if it come to inquisitioning again and licensing, and that we are so timorous of ourselves, and so suspicious of all men, as to fear each book and the shaking of every leaf, before we know what the contents are; if some who but of late were little better than silenced from preaching shall come now to silence us from reading, except what they please, it cannot be guessed what is intended by some but a second tyranny over learning: and will soon put it out of controversy, that bishops and presbyters are the same to us, both name and thing. That those evils of prelaty, which before from five or six and twenty sees were distributively charged upon the whole people, will now light wholly upon learning, is not obscure to us: whenas now the pastor of a small unlearned parish on the sudden shall be exalted archbishop over a large diocese of books, and yet not remove, but keep his other cure too, a mystical pluralist. He who but of late cried down the sole ordination of every novice Bachelor of Art, and denied sole jurisdiction over the simplest parishioner, shall now at home in his private chair assume both these over worthiest and excellentest books and ablest authors that write them.

And in their name, I won’t hide what everyone is saying; that if we start questioning things again and enforcing restrictions, and if we become so afraid of ourselves and so distrustful of everyone that we fear every book and the rustle of every page before we even know what's inside; if those who were recently silenced from preaching now try to silence us from reading, except what they approve, it’s clear that some are aiming for another form of tyranny over knowledge: it will soon make it obvious that bishops and presbyters are the same to us, both in name and in reality. The problems that came from having five or six and twenty bishops spread across the people will now fall entirely on learning. It’s clear to us that a simple, uneducated pastor could suddenly be made an archbishop overseeing a vast collection of books, and still keep his other job too, acting as a mystical pluralist. The same person who recently dismissed the sole ordination of every new Bachelor of Arts and denied any sole authority over the simplest parishioner will now, in his private setting, assume that authority over the most deserving and brilliant books and their authors.

This is not, ye Covenants and Protestations that we have made! this is not to put down prelaty; this is but to chop an episcopacy; this is but to translate the Palace Metropolitan from one kind of dominion into another; this is but an old canonical sleight of commuting our penance. To startle thus betimes at a mere unlicensed pamphlet will after a while be afraid of every conventicle, and a while after will make a conventicle of every Christian meeting. But I am certain that a State governed by the rules of justice and fortitude, or a Church built and founded upon the rock of faith and true knowledge, cannot be so pusillanimous. While things are yet not constituted in religion, that freedom of writing should be restrained by a discipline imitated from the prelates and learnt by them from the Inquisition, to shut us up all again into the breast of a licenser, must needs give cause of doubt and discouragement to all learned and religious men.

This is not what we promised and swore to uphold! This isn't about getting rid of bishops; this is just reorganizing their authority. This is merely shifting the Metropolitan Palace from one type of control to another; it's just an old trick to lessen our penance. To get alarmed over an unauthorized pamphlet like this will eventually lead us to be wary of every gathering, and soon after that, every Christian meeting will seem like a suspicious assembly. But I believe that a State guided by justice and courage, or a Church founded on the solid ground of faith and true understanding, cannot be this timid. While religious matters are still unsettled, restricting the freedom to write based on rules borrowed from the bishops, learned from the Inquisition, which confines us back into the hands of a censor, is bound to raise doubts and dishearten all educated and devout people.

Who cannot but discern the fineness of this politic drift, and who are the contrivers; that while bishops were to be baited down, then all presses might be open; it was the people's birthright and privilege in time of Parliament, it was the breaking forth of light. But now, the bishops abrogated and voided out of the Church, as if our Reformation sought no more but to make room for others into their seats under another name, the episcopal arts begin to bud again, the cruse of truth must run no more oil, liberty of printing must be enthralled again under a prelatical commission of twenty, the privilege of the people nullified, and, which is worse, the freedom of learning must groan again, and to her old fetters: all this the Parliament yet sitting. Although their own late arguments and defences against the prelates might remember them, that this obstructing violence meets for the most part with an event utterly opposite to the end which it drives at: instead of suppressing sects and schisms, it raises them and invests them with a reputation. The punishing of wits enhances their authority, saith the Viscount St. Albans; and a forbidden writing is thought to be a certain spark of truth that flies up in the faces of them who seek to tread it out. This Order, therefore, may prove a nursing-mother to sects, but I shall easily show how it will be a step-dame to Truth: and first by disenabling us to the maintenance of what is known already.

Who can't see the cleverness of this political maneuver, and who are the masterminds behind it? While bishops were being put down, all presses were allowed to operate freely; this was the people's right and privilege during Parliament, a breakthrough of enlightenment. But now, with the bishops removed from the Church, it seems our Reformation only aimed to make space for others to take their positions under a different name. The tactics of the bishops are starting to resurface, the flow of truth must be stifled, and the freedom to print is once again being shackled by a group of twenty appointed prelates. The people's privilege is being rendered useless, and worse, the freedom to learn will once again be burdened by old restrictions—all of this happening while Parliament is still in session. Although their recent arguments and defenses against the bishops could remind them that this violent obstruction often leads to outcomes completely contrary to the intended goal: instead of eliminating factions and divisions, it only promotes and grants them more credibility. Punishing critical thinkers boosts their influence, as the Viscount St. Albans said; a forbidden piece of writing is perceived as a genuine spark of truth that counters those who attempt to stamp it out. Therefore, this Order may end up fostering factions, but I can easily demonstrate how it will act as a stepmother to Truth: and first by making us unable to uphold what is already known.

Well knows he who uses to consider, that our faith and knowledge thrives by exercise, as well as our limbs and complexion. Truth is compared in Scripture to a streaming fountain; if her waters flow not in a perpetual progression, they sicken into a muddy pool of conformity and tradition. A man may be a heretic in the truth; and if he believe things only because his pastor says so, or the Assembly so determines, without knowing other reason, though his belief be true, yet the very truth he holds becomes his heresy.

He who often thinks knows well that our faith and understanding grow through practice, just like our bodies and skin do. In Scripture, truth is likened to a flowing fountain; if its waters don't keep moving forward, they turn into a stagnant pool of conformity and tradition. A person can be a heretic even while holding the truth; if he believes things just because his pastor says so or the Assembly decides so, without understanding any other reason, then even if his beliefs are true, the truth he holds becomes his heresy.

There is not any burden that some would gladlier post off to another than the charge and care of their religion. There be—who knows not that there be?—of Protestants and professors who live and die in as arrant an implicit faith as any lay Papist of Loretto. A wealthy man, addicted to his pleasure and to his profits, finds religion to be a traffic so entangled, and of so many piddling accounts, that of all mysteries he cannot skill to keep a stock going upon that trade. What should he do? fain he would have the name to be religious, fain he would bear up with his neighbours in that. What does he therefore, but resolves to give over toiling, and to find himself out some factor, to whose care and credit he may commit the whole managing of his religious affairs; some divine of note and estimation that must be. To him he adheres, resigns the whole warehouse of his religion, with all the locks and keys, into his custody; and indeed makes the very person of that man his religion; esteems his associating with him a sufficient evidence and commendatory of his own piety. So that a man may say his religion is now no more within himself, but is become a dividual movable, and goes and comes near him, according as that good man frequents the house. He entertains him, gives him gifts, feasts him, lodges him; his religion comes home at night, prays, is liberally supped, and sumptuously laid to sleep; rises, is saluted, and after the malmsey, or some well-spiced brewage, and better breakfasted than he whose morning appetite would have gladly fed on green figs between Bethany and Jerusalem, his religion walks abroad at eight, and leaves his kind entertainer in the shop trading all day without his religion.

There’s no burden that people would rather pass off to someone else than the responsibility of their religion. There are—who doesn’t know this?—Protestants and believers who live and die with as much blind faith as any ordinary Catholic in Loretto. A wealthy man, focused on his pleasures and profits, finds religion to be a complicated business, full of petty details, so that among all mysteries, he struggles to keep that venture going. What should he do? He would love to be seen as religious, and to keep up appearances with his neighbors. So what does he do? He decides to stop working hard at it and seeks out an expert to whom he can fully hand over the management of his religious affairs; someone reputable and respected, no less. He aligns himself with this person, entrusting the entire storehouse of his religion, with all its locks and keys, to their care. In fact, he essentially makes that person his religion; he considers his connection with them as evidence of his own piety. So one could say that his religion is no longer something personal but has turned into a shared commodity that comes and goes according to how often that good man visits. He entertains him, gives him gifts, hosts him, and provides lodging; his religion comes home at night, prays, has a generous dinner, and is comfortably put to sleep; it rises, is greeted, and after some sweet wine or a fine drink, and a better breakfast than someone whose morning hunger would have happily feasted on figs between Bethany and Jerusalem, his religion goes out at eight and leaves its kind host in the shop, carrying on with his day without his religion.

Another sort there be who, when they hear that all things shall be ordered, all things regulated and settled, nothing written but what passes through the custom-house of certain publicans that have the tonnaging and poundaging of all free-spoken truth, will straight give themselves up into your hands, make 'em and cut 'em out what religion ye please: there be delights, there be recreations and jolly pastimes that will fetch the day about from sun to sun, and rock the tedious year as in a delightful dream. What need they torture their heads with that which others have taken so strictly and so unalterably into their own purveying? These are the fruits which a dull ease and cessation of our knowledge will bring forth among the people. How goodly and how to be wished were such an obedient unanimity as this, what a fine conformity would it starch us all into! Doubtless a staunch and solid piece of framework, as any January could freeze together.

There are some people who, when they hear that everything will be organized, regulated, and settled, and that nothing will be accepted unless it goes through the scrutiny of certain officials who control all straightforward truth, will willingly give themselves over to your authority, letting you shape their beliefs however you see fit. There are pleasures, pastimes, and joyful activities that can fill the day from sunrise to sunset and make the long year feel like a pleasant dream. Why should they struggle with ideas that others have already managed so rigidly and permanently? These are the outcomes that a dull ease and a halt in our understanding will bring among the people. How wonderful and desirable would such obedient agreement be, and what a fine conformity it would impose on us all! Surely, it would form a solid structure that could withstand even the coldest January.

Nor much better will be the consequence even among the clergy themselves. It is no new thing never heard of before, for a parochial minister, who has his reward and is at his Hercules' pillars in a warm benefice, to be easily inclinable, if he have nothing else that may rouse up his studies, to finish his circuit in an English Concordance and a topic folio, the gatherings and savings of a sober graduateship, a Harmony and a Catena; treading the constant round of certain common doctrinal heads, attended with their uses, motives, marks, and means, out of which, as out of an alphabet, or sol-fa, by forming and transforming, joining and disjoining variously, a little bookcraft, and two hours' meditation, might furnish him unspeakably to the performance of more than a weekly charge of sermoning: not to reckon up the infinite helps of interlinearies, breviaries, synopses, and other loitering gear. But as for the multitude of sermons ready printed and piled up, on every text that is not difficult, our London trading St. Thomas in his vestry, and add to boot St. Martin and St. Hugh, have not within their hallowed limits more vendible ware of all sorts ready made: so that penury he never need fear of pulpit provision, having where so plenteously to refresh his magazine. But if his rear and flanks be not impaled, if his back door be not secured by the rigid licenser, but that a bold book may now and then issue forth and give the assault to some of his old collections in their trenches, it will concern him then to keep waking, to stand in watch, to set good guards and sentinels about his received opinions, to walk the round and counter-round with his fellow inspectors, fearing lest any of his flock be seduced, who also then would be better instructed, better exercised and disciplined. And God send that the fear of this diligence, which must then be used, do not make us affect the laziness of a licensing Church.

Not much better will be the outcome even among the clergy themselves. It’s not a new situation—familiar to many—that a parish minister, comfortable in a good position, might easily become complacent. If he lacks anything that might stimulate his studies, he could spend his time merely going through an English concordance and some reference books, relying on the accumulated wisdom of a solid education, a harmony, and a catena. He might go around the same familiar doctrinal topics, along with their applications, motivations, indicators, and methods, so that with just a bit of book knowledge and a couple of hours of reflection, he could cobble together enough material to deliver well over his weekly sermon requirement. Not to mention the endless resources of interlinearies, breviaries, synopses, and other distractions. When it comes to the multitude of ready-printed sermons on any straightforward text, our London merchant, St. Thomas, in his vestry, alongside St. Martin and St. Hugh, has a treasure trove of readily available material within their sacred spaces. He’ll never have to worry about a shortage of pulpit supplies, with so much available to replenish his stock. However, if he's not protected from challenges, if he hasn't secured his "back door" from strict censorship, allowing a daring book to occasionally break free and challenge his collection of ideas, then he'll need to stay alert, keep watch, set up solid defenses around his beliefs, and patrol with his fellow leaders, worrying that any of his congregation could be led astray—although they would actually be better informed, trained, and disciplined as a result. And God help us if the worry about this necessary diligence leads us to prefer the laziness of a licentious Church.

For if we be sure we are in the right, and do not hold the truth guiltily, which becomes not, if we ourselves condemn not our own weak and frivolous teaching, and the people for an untaught and irreligious gadding rout, what can be more fair than when a man judicious, learned, and of a conscience, for aught we know, as good as theirs that taught us what we know, shall not privily from house to house, which is more dangerous, but openly by writing publish to the world what his opinion is, what his reasons, and wherefore that which is now thought cannot be sound? Christ urged it as wherewith to justify himself, that he preached in public; yet writing is more public than preaching; and more easy to refutation, if need be, there being so many whose business and profession merely it is to be the champions of truth; which if they neglect, what can be imputed but their sloth, or unability?

For if we are confident that we are in the right and don’t hold the truth with guilt, which wouldn’t make sense if we don’t condemn our own weak and trivial teaching, and the people for being untaught and irreligious, what could be fairer than when a wise, educated person, with a conscience that might be as good as those who taught us what we know, doesn’t secretly go from house to house, which is riskier, but openly publishes his opinions and reasons to the world, explaining why what is currently believed isn’t sound? Christ used public preaching to justify himself; however, writing is more public than preaching and easier to refute if necessary, as there are many whose job it is to defend the truth. If they neglect this, the only things that can be blamed are their laziness or inability.

Thus much we are hindered and disinured by this course of licensing, toward the true knowledge of what we seem to know. For how much it hurts and hinders the licensers themselves in the calling of their ministry, more than any secular employment, if they will discharge that office as they ought, so that of necessity they must neglect either the one duty or the other, I insist not, because it is a particular, but leave it to their own conscience, how they will decide it there.

Thus, we are greatly limited and distanced from truly understanding what we think we know because of this licensing process. It also significantly impacts the licensers themselves in their ministerial duties more than any secular job could. If they intend to carry out their responsibilities properly, they will inevitably have to neglect one of those duties. I won't argue further on this specific point, as I leave it to their own conscience to make that decision.

There is yet behind of what I purposed to lay open, the incredible loss and detriment that this plot of licensing puts us to; more than if some enemy at sea should stop up all our havens and ports and creeks, it hinders and retards the importation of our richest merchandise, truth; nay, it was first established and put in practice by Antichristian malice and mystery on set purpose to extinguish, if it were possible, the light of Reformation, and to settle falsehood; little differing from that policy wherewith the Turk upholds his Alcoran, by the prohibition of printing. 'Tis not denied, but gladly confessed, we are to send our thanks and vows to Heaven louder than most of nations, for that great measure of truth which we enjoy, especially in those main points between us and the Pope, with his appurtenances the prelates: but he who thinks we are to pitch our tent here, and have attained the utmost prospect of reformation that the mortal glass wherein we contemplate can show us, till we come to beatific vision, that man by this very opinion declares that he is yet far short of truth.

There’s still more to discuss regarding the incredible loss and harm caused by this licensing scheme. It’s worse than if an enemy at sea were to block all our harbors and ports; it hinders and slows down the import of our most valuable good, which is truth. It was first established and enacted out of Antichristian malice and a deliberate intent to extinguish, if possible, the light of Reformation and to promote falsehood. This is not much different from the way the Turk maintains his Alcoran by banning printing. It’s undeniable, and we happily acknowledge, that we owe our thanks and prayers to Heaven louder than most nations for the significant measure of truth we enjoy, especially regarding the main issues between us and the Pope along with his associates, the bishops. However, anyone who thinks we should settle here and that we have reached the highest point of reformation that our human perspective can offer until we move on to a perfect vision is showing that they are still far from the truth.

Truth indeed came once into the world with her divine Master, and was a perfect shape most glorious to look on: but when he ascended, and his Apostles after him were laid asleep, then straight arose a wicked race of deceivers, who, as that story goes of the Egyptian Typhon with his conspirators, how they dealt with the good Osiris, took the virgin Truth, hewed her lovely form into a thousand pieces, and scattered them to the four winds. From that time ever since, the sad friends of Truth, such as durst appear, imitating the careful search that Isis made for the mangled body of Osiris, went up and down gathering up limb by limb, still as they could find them. We have not yet found them all, Lords and Commons, nor ever shall do, till her Master's second coming; he shall bring together every joint and member, and shall mould them into an immortal feature of loveliness and perfection. Suffer not these licensing prohibitions to stand at every place of opportunity, forbidding and disturbing them that continue seeking, that continue to do our obsequies to the torn body of our martyred saint.

Truth really came into the world once with her divine Master, and she was a beautiful form, glorious to see. But when He ascended and His Apostles fell asleep, a wicked group of deceivers emerged, who, like the story of the Egyptian Typhon and his conspirators dealing with the good Osiris, took the pure Truth, chopped her lovely form into a thousand pieces, and scattered them to the four winds. Since then, the sad friends of Truth who dared to appear, imitating the careful search that Isis made for Osiris’s dismembered body, have gone around gathering up piece by piece, as much as they could find. We have not yet found all the pieces, Lords and Commons, nor will we until her Master comes again; He will bring together every joint and member and will shape them into an immortal form of beauty and perfection. Do not let these licensing prohibitions stand in every place of opportunity, forbidding and disturbing those who continue to seek and give our respects to the torn body of our martyred saint.

We boast our light; but if we look not wisely on the sun itself, it smites us into darkness. Who can discern those planets that are oft combust, and those stars of brightest magnitude that rise and set with the sun, until the opposite motion of their orbs bring them to such a place in the firmament, where they may be seen evening or morning? The light which we have gained was given us, not to be ever staring on, but by it to discover onward things more remote from our knowledge. It is not the unfrocking of a priest, the unmitring of a bishop, and the removing him from off the presbyterian shoulders, that will make us a happy nation. No, if other things as great in the Church, and in the rule of life both economical and political, be not looked into and reformed, we have looked so long upon the blaze that Zuinglius and Calvin hath beaconed up to us, that we are stark blind. There be who perpetually complain of schisms and sects, and make it such a calamity that any man dissents from their maxims. 'Tis their own pride and ignorance which causes the disturbing, who neither will hear with meekness, nor can convince; yet all must be suppressed which is not found in their Syntagma. They are the troublers, they are the dividers of unity, who neglect and permit not others to unite those dissevered pieces which are yet wanting to the body of Truth. To be still searching what we know not by what we know, still closing up truth to truth as we find it (for all her body is homogeneal and proportional), this is the golden rule in theology as well as in arithmetic, and makes up the best harmony in a Church; not the forced and outward union of cold, and neutral, and inwardly divided minds.

We take pride in our knowledge, but if we don't wisely gaze at the sun itself, it blinds us into darkness. Who can identify the planets that often get hidden, or the brightest stars that rise and set with the sun, until the movement of their orbits brings them into view in the sky, either in the evening or morning? The light we have gained was given to us not to keep staring at, but to help us discover things that are further from our understanding. It’s not just the removal of a priest's robe, the taking off of a bishop's mitre, or the stripping him of his role from the congregation that will make us a happy nation. No, if we don't look into and reform other significant issues in the Church and in both our personal and political lives, we've stared so long at the bright signals that Zwingli and Calvin have raised up for us that we’ve become completely blind. Some people continually complain about divisions and sects, treating any disagreement with their beliefs as a disaster. It's their own pride and ignorance that cause the disturbance—they won't listen with humility nor can they persuade others; yet they insist that everything not found in their teachings must be suppressed. They are the ones causing trouble, the ones dividing unity, who neglect and prevent others from bringing together the separate pieces still needed to form the true body of knowledge. To keep searching for what we don't know through what we do know, continually connecting truth to truth as we find it (since all truth is homogeneous and proportional), this is the golden rule in theology as well as in math, and creates the best harmony in a Church; not the forced and superficial union of indifferent, neutral, and internally divided minds.

Lords and Commons of England! consider what nation it is whereof ye are, and whereof ye are the governors: a nation not slow and dull, but of a quick, ingenious and piercing spirit, acute to invent, subtle and sinewy to discourse, not beneath the reach of any point the highest that human capacity can soar to. Therefore the studies of learning in her deepest sciences have been so ancient and so eminent among us, that writers of good antiquity and ablest judgment have been persuaded that even the school of Pythagoras and the Persian wisdom took beginning from the old philosophy of this island. And that wise and civil Roman, Julius Agricola, who governed once here for Caesar, preferred the natural wits of Britain before the laboured studies of the French. Nor is it for nothing that the grave and frugal Transylvanian sends out yearly from as far as the mountainous borders of Russia, and beyond the Hercynian wilderness, not their youth, but their staid men, to learn our language and our theologic arts.

Lords and Commons of England! Think about the nation that you represent and govern: a nation that is not slow or dull, but instead has a quick, intelligent, and sharp spirit, capable of invention, subtlety, and engaging discussion—one that is not limited by any peak that human capability can reach. That's why our pursuit of knowledge in its most profound fields has been so ancient and distinguished among us, that respected ancient writers and skilled thinkers have believed that even the school of Pythagoras and Persian wisdom began with the old philosophy of this island. Additionally, the wise and pragmatic Roman, Julius Agricola, who once governed here for Caesar, valued the natural talents of Britain over the studied efforts of the French. It’s also significant that the serious and practical Transylvanian sends out each year from as far as the mountainous borders of Russia, beyond the Hercynian wilderness, not their youth, but their older, more experienced men, to learn our language and our theological knowledge.

Yet that which is above all this, the favour and the love of Heaven, we have great argument to think in a peculiar manner propitious and propending towards us. Why else was this nation chosen before any other, that out of her, as out of Sion, should be proclaimed and sounded forth the first tidings and trumpet of Reformation to all Europe? And had it not been the obstinate perverseness of our prelates against the divine and admirable spirit of Wickliff, to suppress him as a schismatic and innovator, perhaps neither the Bohemian Huns and Jerome, no nor the name of Luther or of Calvin, had been ever known: the glory of reforming all our neighbours had been completely ours. But now, as our obdurate clergy have with violence demeaned the matter, we are become hitherto the latest and the backwardest scholars, of whom God offered to have made us the teachers. Now once again by all concurrence of signs, and by the general instinct of holy and devout men, as they daily and solemnly express their thoughts, God is decreeing to begin some new and great period in his Church, even to the reforming of Reformation itself: what does he then but reveal himself to his servants, and as his manner is, first to his Englishmen? I say, as his manner is, first to us, though we mark not the method of his counsels, and are unworthy.

Yet what’s really important, the favor and love of Heaven, seems particularly directed toward us. Why else would this nation be chosen over all others, to be the first to announce the Reformation to all of Europe? Had it not been for the stubborn refusal of our leaders to accept the divine spirit of Wickliff, labeling him a troublemaker and innovator, we might never have known the names of the Bohemian Hussites, Jerome, Luther, or Calvin. The glory of reforming all our neighbors could have been entirely ours. But now, because our rigid clergy have mishandled the situation, we've become the slowest learners, when God wanted us to be the teachers. Once again, through all signs and the general instincts of holy and devout people, who express their thoughts daily and solemnly, God is preparing to start a new and significant chapter in his Church, even reforming the Reformation itself. So what does He do? He reveals His plans to His servants, beginning with us Englishmen. I say, as is His way, first to us, even though we may not understand His methods and are unworthy.

Behold now this vast city: a city of refuge, the mansion house of liberty, encompassed and surrounded with his protection; the shop of war hath not there more anvils and hammers waking, to fashion out the plates and instruments of armed justice in defence of beleaguered truth, than there be pens and heads there, sitting by their studious lamps, musing, searching, revolving new notions and ideas wherewith to present, as with their homage and their fealty, the approaching Reformation: others as fast reading, trying all things, assenting to the force of reason and convincement. What could a man require more from a nation so pliant and so prone to seek after knowledge? What wants there to such a towardly and pregnant soil, but wise and faithful labourers, to make a knowing people, a nation of prophets, of sages, and of worthies? We reckon more than five months yet to harvest; there need not be five weeks; had we but eyes to lift up, the fields are white already.

Look at this vast city: a city of refuge, the home of freedom, surrounded and protected by his care; the workshop of war has no more anvils and hammers waking to craft the tools of armed justice in defense of beleaguered truth than there are pens and thinkers sitting by their study lamps, reflecting, exploring, and developing new ideas to present, as their tribute and loyalty, to the coming Reformation. Others are just as busy reading, testing everything, and accepting the power of reason and persuasion. What more could a person want from a nation so eager and ready to seek knowledge? What is missing in such a fertile and promising land, except for wise and dedicated workers, to cultivate an informed populace, a nation of visionaries, thinkers, and great individuals? We have more than five months until the harvest; it shouldn't take five weeks; if only we had eyes to look up, the fields are already ripe.

Where there is much desire to learn, there of necessity will be much arguing, much writing, many opinions; for opinion in good men is but knowledge in the making. Under these fantastic terrors of sect and schism, we wrong the earnest and zealous thirst after knowledge and understanding which God hath stirred up in this city. What some lament of, we rather should rejoice at, should rather praise this pious forwardness among men, to reassume the ill-deputed care of their religion into their own hands again. A little generous prudence, a little forbearance of one another, and some grain of charity might win all these diligences to join, and unite in one general and brotherly search after truth; could we but forgo this prelatical tradition of crowding free consciences and Christian liberties into canons and precepts of men. I doubt not, if some great and worthy stranger should come among us, wise to discern the mould and temper of a people, and how to govern it, observing the high hopes and aims, the diligent alacrity of our extended thoughts and reasonings in the pursuance of truth and freedom, but that he would cry out as Pyrrhus did, admiring the Roman docility and courage: If such were my Epirots, I would not despair the greatest design that could be attempted, to make a Church or kingdom happy.

Where there is a strong desire to learn, there will naturally be a lot of debating, writing, and differing opinions; because, in good people, opinions are just knowledge in the process of being formed. Amid these exaggerated fears of division and sects, we undermine the genuine and passionate thirst for knowledge and understanding that God has inspired in this city. What some people mourn over, we should actually celebrate and commend this eager willingness among people to take back the mismanaged responsibility for their faith into their own hands. A bit of thoughtful generosity, a little patience with one another, and some kindness could encourage all these efforts to come together and unite in a collective and brotherly pursuit of truth; if only we could let go of this tradition of forcing free consciences and Christian liberties into the rules and doctrines of men. I have no doubt that if a wise and noble outsider were to come among us, able to grasp the character and temperament of a people and how to guide them, he would be amazed by our high hopes and ambitious pursuits, our active engagement in seeking truth and freedom, and would likely exclaim like Pyrrhus did, admiring the Romans' willingness and bravery: If my people were like this, I would not despair in attempting the greatest mission to make a Church or kingdom prosperous.

Yet these are the men cried out against for schismatics and sectaries; as if, while the temple of the Lord was building, some cutting, some squaring the marble, others hewing the cedars, there should be a sort of irrational men who could not consider there must be many schisms and many dissections made in the quarry and in the timber, ere the house of God can be built. And when every stone is laid artfully together, it cannot be united into a continuity, it can but be contiguous in this world; neither can every piece of the building be of one form; nay rather the perfection consists in this, that, out of many moderate varieties and brotherly dissimilitudes that are not vastly disproportional, arises the goodly and the graceful symmetry that commends the whole pile and structure.

Yet these are the men who are accused of being schismatics and sectarians; as if, while the temple of the Lord was being built, some were cutting and squaring the marble, others were hewing the cedars, there could be those irrational people who couldn't understand that many splits and divisions must occur in the quarry and in the timber before the house of God can be constructed. And when every stone is skillfully placed together, it can't be united into a seamless whole; it can only be next to each other in this world; nor can every piece of the building be the same shape; rather, perfection comes from the fact that, from many moderate variations and brotherly differences that aren't vastly disproportionate, a beautiful and graceful symmetry arises that enhances the entire structure.

Let us therefore be more considerate builders, more wise in spiritual architecture, when great reformation is expected. For now the time seems come, wherein Moses the great prophet may sit in heaven rejoicing to see that memorable and glorious wish of his fulfilled, when not only our seventy elders, but all the Lord's people, are become prophets. No marvel then though some men, and some good men too perhaps, but young in goodness, as Joshua then was, envy them. They fret, and out of their own weakness are in agony, lest these divisions and subdivisions will undo us. The adversary again applauds, and waits the hour: when they have branched themselves out, saith he, small enough into parties and partitions, then will be our time. Fool! he sees not the firm root, out of which we all grow, though into branches: nor will beware until he see our small divided maniples cutting through at every angle of his ill-united and unwieldy brigade. And that we are to hope better of all these supposed sects and schisms, and that we shall not need that solicitude, honest perhaps, though over-timorous, of them that vex in this behalf, but shall laugh in the end at those malicious applauders of our differences, I have these reasons to persuade me.

Let’s be more thoughtful builders and wiser in our spiritual construction, especially now that a significant change is anticipated. It seems like the time has come when Moses, the great prophet, might be up in heaven celebrating the fulfillment of his wish, where not just our seventy elders, but all of God's people, have become prophets. It’s no surprise that some people, even some good ones, but still young in their goodness like Joshua was, envy them. They worry and struggle with their own insecurities, fearing that these divisions and subdivisions will ruin us. Meanwhile, the enemy cheers and waits for the moment: once they have splintered themselves into small factions and divisions, that’s when we’ll strike. Fool! He fails to notice the strong root from which we all grow, even as we branch out: he won't be aware until he sees our small, divided groups cutting through every angle of his poorly united and clumsy army. And I have reasons to believe that we should hope for the best from all these supposed sects and schisms, and that we won’t need to worry like those who are overly concerned about our differences, but will eventually laugh at those who maliciously cheer our divisions.

First, when a city shall be as it were besieged and blocked about, her navigable river infested, inroads and incursions round, defiance and battle oft rumoured to be marching up even to her walls and suburb trenches, that then the people, or the greater part, more than at other times, wholly taken up with the study of highest and most important matters to be reformed, should be disputing, reasoning, reading, inventing, discoursing, even to a rarity and admiration, things not before discoursed or written of, argues first a singular goodwill, contentedness and confidence in your prudent foresight and safe government, Lords and Commons; and from thence derives itself to a gallant bravery and well-grounded contempt of their enemies, as if there were no small number of as great spirits among us, as his was, who when Rome was nigh besieged by Hannibal, being in the city, bought that piece of ground at no cheap rate, whereon Hannibal himself encamped his own regiment.

First, when a city is practically under siege, with its navigable river polluted, threats and attacks all around, and rumors of battles approaching its walls and surrounding trenches, it’s remarkable that the people, or at least most of them, focus more than ever on the highest and most important matters that need reform. They engage in debates, discussions, reading, inventing, and talking about things that have rarely been discussed or written about before. This indicates a strong goodwill, satisfaction, and confidence in your wise foresight and safe governance, Lords and Commons. It also reflects a courageous bravery and a well-founded disdain for their enemies, as if there are many great spirits among us, like his, who, when Rome was nearly besieged by Hannibal, purchased the very land where Hannibal set up camp for his own troops, and did so at a high price.

Next, it is a lively and cheerful presage of our happy success and victory. For as in a body, when the blood is fresh, the spirits pure and vigorous, not only to vital but to rational faculties, and those in the acutest and the pertest operations of wit and subtlety, it argues in what good plight and constitution the body is; so when the cheerfulness of the people is so sprightly up, as that it has not only wherewith to guard well its own freedom and safety, but to spare, and to bestow upon the solidest and sublimest points of controversy and new invention, it betokens us not degenerated, nor drooping to a fatal decay, but casting off the old and wrinkled skin of corruption to outlive these pangs and wax young again, entering the glorious ways of truth and prosperous virtue, destined to become great and honourable in these latter ages. Methinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant nation rousing herself like a strong man after sleep, and shaking her invincible locks: methinks I see her as an eagle mewing her mighty youth, and kindling her undazzled eyes at the full midday beam; purging and unscaling her long-abused sight at the fountain itself of heavenly radiance; while the whole noise of timorous and flocking birds, with those also that love the twilight, flutter about, amazed at what she means, and in their envious gabble would prognosticate a year of sects and schisms.

Next, this is a lively and cheerful sign of our happy success and victory. Just like in a body, when the blood is fresh and the spirits are pure and energetic, not only vital but also rational abilities come alive, showcasing the great condition of the body; similarly, when the cheerfulness of the people is so vibrant that it not only protects its own freedom and safety but also has the energy to focus on important debates and new ideas, it shows we are not declining or fading away, but shedding the old and corrupt layers to overcome these struggles and become rejuvenated, stepping into the glorious paths of truth and virtuous success, destined to be great and respected in these later times. I can imagine in my mind a strong and powerful nation awakening like a robust man after a nap, shaking off her indomitable hair: I envision her like an eagle reclaiming her youthful strength and brightening her clear eyes in the full light of midday; clearing and renewing her long-abused vision at the very source of divine light; while the whole clamor of fearful and flocking birds, including those who prefer twilight, flutters around, puzzled by her intentions and in their jealous chatter trying to predict a year of divisions and conflicts.

What would ye do then? should ye suppress all this flowery crop of knowledge and new light sprung up and yet springing daily in this city? Should ye set an oligarchy of twenty engrossers over it, to bring a famine upon our minds again, when we shall know nothing but what is measured to us by their bushel? Believe it, Lords and Commons, they who counsel ye to such a suppressing do as good as bid ye suppress yourselves; and I will soon show how. If it be desired to know the immediate cause of all this free writing and free speaking, there cannot be assigned a truer than your own mild and free and humane government. It is the liberty, Lords and Commons, which your own valorous and happy counsels have purchased us, liberty which is the nurse of all great wits; this is that which hath rarefied and enlightened our spirits like the influence of heaven; this is that which hath enfranchised, enlarged and lifted up our apprehensions, degrees above themselves.

What would you do then? Should you suppress all this vibrant growth of knowledge and new ideas that have emerged and continue to emerge daily in this city? Should you place a small group of twenty monopolizers over it, causing a drought of ideas in our minds again, where we only know what is handed to us by their limited measure? Believe it, Lords and Commons, those who advise you to suppress this are essentially telling you to suppress yourselves; and I will soon explain why. If you want to understand the immediate cause of all this free writing and speaking, there’s no better explanation than your own gentle, free, and compassionate government. It is the freedom, Lords and Commons, that your courageous and successful decisions have given us, freedom that nurtures all great thinkers; this is what has refined and enlightened our minds like a heavenly influence; this is what has liberated, expanded, and elevated our understanding, taking it to new heights.

Ye cannot make us now less capable, less knowing, less eagerly pursuing of the truth, unless ye first make yourselves, that made us so, less the lovers, less the founders of our true liberty. We can grow ignorant again, brutish, formal and slavish, as ye found us; but you then must first become that which ye cannot be, oppressive, arbitrary and tyrannous, as they were from whom ye have freed us. That our hearts are now more capacious, our thoughts more erected to the search and expectation of greatest and exactest things, is the issue of your own virtue propagated in us; ye cannot suppress that, unless ye reinforce an abrogated and merciless law, that fathers may dispatch at will their own children. And who shall then stick closest to ye, and excite others? not he who takes up arms for coat and conduct, and his four nobles of Danegelt. Although I dispraise not the defence of just immunities, yet love my peace better, if that were all. Give me the liberty to know, to utter, and to argue freely according to conscience, above all liberties.

You can't make us less capable, less knowledgeable, or less eager to pursue the truth unless you first become less loving and less committed to our true freedom. We can become ignorant again, brutish, formal, and submissive like you found us; but that requires you to become what you cannot be: oppressive, arbitrary, and tyrannical, just like those from whom you freed us. The fact that our hearts are now bigger and our thoughts are more focused on discovering and expecting great and precise things is a result of your own goodness instilled in us; you can't suppress that unless you reinforce a cruel and outdated law that allows parents to dispose of their own children at will. And who will then stand by you and inspire others? Not someone who takes up arms for a uniform and a payout. While I don't criticize the defense of rightful protections, I'd prefer to have peace if that were all. Give me the freedom to know, to speak, and to argue freely according to my conscience, above all other liberties.

What would be best advised, then, if it be found so hurtful and so unequal to suppress opinions for the newness or the unsuitableness to a customary acceptance, will not be my task to say. I only shall repeat what I have learned from one of your own honourable number, a right noble and pious lord, who, had he not sacrificed his life and fortunes to the Church and Commonwealth, we had not now missed and bewailed a worthy and undoubted patron of this argument. Ye know him, I am sure; yet I for honour's sake, and may it be eternal to him, shall name him, the Lord Brook. He writing of episcopacy, and by the way treating of sects and schisms, left ye his vote, or rather now the last words of his dying charge, which I know will ever be of dear and honoured regard with ye, so full of meekness and breathing charity, that next to his last testament, who bequeathed love and peace to his disciples, I cannot call to mind where I have read or heard words more mild and peaceful. He there exhorts us to hear with patience and humility those, however they be miscalled, that desire to live purely, in such a use of God's ordinances, as the best guidance of their conscience gives them, and to tolerate them, though in some disconformity to ourselves. The book itself will tell us more at large, being published to the world, and dedicated to the Parliament by him who, both for his life and for his death, deserves that what advice he left be not laid by without perusal.

What would be best advised, then, if it is found to be so harmful and unfair to suppress opinions because they are new or not accepted by tradition, is not for me to say. I will only repeat what I learned from one of your own respected members, a truly noble and devoted lord, who, had he not sacrificed his life and wealth for the Church and the Commonwealth, we would not currently mourn the loss of a worthy and undeniable supporter of this argument. You know him, I'm sure; yet for the sake of honor, and may his memory be eternal, I will name him: Lord Brook. In his writings on episcopacy, while discussing sects and schisms, he left you his vote, or rather the last words of his dying recommendations, which I know will always be held in high esteem by you, so full of humility and compassion that next to the last testament, which left love and peace to his disciples, I cannot recall where I have read or heard words more gentle and peaceful. He encourages us to listen with patience and humility to those, no matter how they may be mischaracterized, who strive to live purely according to the best guidance of their conscience regarding God’s ordinances, and to tolerate them even if they are somewhat different from ourselves. The book itself will elaborate further, having been published for the world and dedicated to Parliament by him who, both in life and death, deserves that his advice not be overlooked without careful consideration.

And now the time in special is, by privilege to write and speak what may help to the further discussing of matters in agitation. The temple of Janus with his two controversial faces might now not unsignificantly be set open. And though all the winds of doctrine were let loose to play upon the earth, so Truth be in the field, we do injuriously, by licensing and prohibiting, to misdoubt her strength. Let her and Falsehood grapple; who ever knew Truth put to the worse, in a free and open encounter? Her confuting is the best and surest suppressing. He who hears what praying there is for light and clearer knowledge to be sent down among us, would think of other matters to be constituted beyond the discipline of Geneva, framed and fabricked already to our hands. Yet when the new light which we beg for shines in upon us, there be who envy and oppose, if it come not first in at their casements. What a collusion is this, whenas we are exhorted by the wise man to use diligence, to seek for wisdom as for hidden treasures early and late, that another order shall enjoin us to know nothing but by statute? When a man hath been labouring the hardest labour in the deep mines of knowledge, hath furnished out his findings in all their equipage: drawn forth his reasons as it were a battle ranged: scattered and defeated all objections in his way; calls out his adversary into the plain, offers him the advantage of wind and sun, if he please, only that he may try the matter by dint of argument: for his opponents then to skulk, to lay ambushments, to keep a narrow bridge of licensing where the challenger should pass, though it be valour enough in soldiership, is but weakness and cowardice in the wars of Truth.

And now the time is right, especially by privilege, to write and speak about what might help further the discussion of the matters at hand. The temple of Janus, with his two conflicting faces, could very well be opened now. And even though all kinds of doctrines are allowed to circulate among people, if Truth is in the field, it’s wrong for us to doubt her strength by restricting what can be said. Let her and Falsehood grapple; who has ever seen Truth lose in a free and open debate? To put her down is the best and surest way to suppress her. Anyone who listens to the prayers for light and clearer understanding among us would think there are other matters to be organized beyond the Geneva discipline, already set and structured for us. Yet when the new light we ask for shines upon us, some people envy and oppose it unless it first comes through their windows. What a collusion this is, when we are urged by the wise to diligently seek wisdom as if it were hidden treasure early and late, that another system insists we should only know what is prescribed? When someone has been toiling diligently in the deep mines of knowledge, gathering his findings with all their preparations: laying out his reasons as if they were an army positioned for battle: defeating all objections in his path; calling out his opponent into the open, offering him the advantage of the wind and sun, if he wants, just so they can settle things through argument: for his opponents to hide, to set traps, to control a narrow passage of licensing where the challenger should cross is courage in warfare, but it’s mere weakness and cowardice in the battles of Truth.

For who knows not that Truth is strong, next to the Almighty? She needs no policies, nor stratagems, nor licensings to make her victorious; those are the shifts and the defences that error uses against her power. Give her but room, and do not bind her when she sleeps, for then she speaks not true, as the old Proteus did, who spake oracles only when he was caught and bound, but then rather she turns herself into all shapes, except her own, and perhaps tunes her voice according to the time, as Micaiah did before Ahab, until she be adjured into her own likeness. Yet is it not impossible that she may have more shapes than one. What else is all that rank of things indifferent, wherein Truth may be on this side or on the other, without being unlike herself? What but a vain shadow else is the abolition of those ordinances, that hand-writing nailed to the cross? What great purchase is this Christian liberty which Paul so often boasts of? His doctrine is, that he who eats or eats not, regards a day or regards it not, may do either to the Lord. How many other things might be tolerated in peace, and left to conscience, had we but charity, and were it not the chief stronghold of our hypocrisy to be ever judging one another?

For who doesn't know that Truth is powerful, right next to the Almighty? It doesn’t need any policies, strategies, or permissions to be victorious; those are just the tricks and defenses that falsehoods use against its power. Just give it space, and don’t restrain it while it rests, because then it won't speak truthfully, like the old Proteus who only gave oracles when captured and bound. Instead, it will change itself into all kinds of forms except its own, and maybe adjust its voice depending on the situation, like Micaiah did before Ahab, until it's compelled to show its true self. But it's also possible for it to take on more than one form. What else explains all those things that are neutral, where Truth can exist on either side without losing its essence? What else is the point of getting rid of those rules, that written decree nailed to the cross? What kind of valuable freedom is this Christian liberty that Paul often brags about? His teaching is that whether someone eats or doesn't eat, observes a day or not, they can do either for the Lord. How many other things could be accepted peacefully and left to individual conscience if only we had charity, rather than making our hypocrisy stronger by constantly judging one another?

I fear yet this iron yoke of outward conformity hath left a slavish print upon our necks; the ghost of a linen decency yet haunts us. We stumble and are impatient at the least dividing of one visible congregation from another, though it be not in fundamentals; and through our forwardness to suppress, and our backwardness to recover any enthralled piece of truth out of the gripe of custom, we care not to keep truth separated from truth, which is the fiercest rent and disunion of all. We do not see that, while we still affect by all means a rigid external formality, we may as soon fall again into a gross conforming stupidity, a stark and dead congealment of wood and hay and stubble, forced and frozen together, which is more to the sudden degenerating of a Church than many subdichotomies of petty schisms.

I’m worried that this iron yoke of outward conformity has left a stamp of slavery on us; the ghost of a fake decency still haunts us. We trip over and get impatient at the slightest separation of one visible group from another, even when it’s not about fundamental issues; and because we're so eager to suppress and so slow to reclaim any captive piece of truth from the grip of tradition, we don’t mind mixing truths with falsehoods, which is the worst kind of division. We fail to see that while we insist on maintaining a strict external formality, we risk slipping back into a dull, mindless conformity, a stiff and lifeless mixture of worthless materials, forced and frozen together, which is far more damaging to a Church than many minor divisions over trivial issues.

Not that I can think well of every light separation, or that all in a Church is to be expected gold and silver and precious stones: it is not possible for man to sever the wheat from the tares, the good fish from the other fry; that must be the Angels' ministry at the end of mortal things. Yet if all cannot be of one mind—as who looks they should be?—this doubtless is more wholesome, more prudent, and more Christian, that many be tolerated, rather than all compelled. I mean not tolerated popery, and open superstition, which, as it extirpates all religions and civil supremacies, so itself should be extirpate, provided first that all charitable and compassionate means be used to win and regain the weak and the misled: that also which is impious or evil absolutely either against faith or manners no law can possibly permit, that intends not to unlaw itself: but those neighbouring differences, or rather indifferences, are what I speak of, whether in some point of doctrine or of discipline, which, though they may be many, yet need not interrupt THE UNITY OF SPIRIT, if we could but find among us THE BOND OF PEACE.

Not that I can view every kind of separation positively, or that everything in a Church should be filled with gold, silver, and precious gems: it’s not possible for people to separate the good from the bad; that’s a job for the Angels at the end of our lives. Yet, if we can't all agree—who really expects us to?—it’s definitely healthier, more sensible, and more Christian to allow many different views rather than to force everyone into the same mold. I don’t mean tolerating popery and blatant superstition, which erase all religions and civil authorities, and should be eradicated, provided that we first use all charitable and compassionate means to help the weak and misled. Anything that is truly impious or evil, against faith or morals, no law can allow without turning itself into something unlawful. But those neighboring differences, or rather indifferences, whether in some aspect of doctrine or practice, while numerous, need not disrupt THE UNITY OF SPIRIT if we could just find among us THE BOND OF PEACE.

In the meanwhile if any one would write, and bring his helpful hand to the slow-moving Reformation which we labour under, if Truth have spoken to him before others, or but seemed at least to speak, who hath so bejesuited us that we should trouble that man with asking license to do so worthy a deed? and not consider this, that if it come to prohibiting, there is not aught more likely to be prohibited than truth itself; whose first appearance to our eyes, bleared and dimmed with prejudice and custom, is more unsightly and unplausible than many errors, even as the person is of many a great man slight and contemptuous to see to. And what do they tell us vainly of new opinions, when this very opinion of theirs, that none must be heard but whom they like, is the worst and newest opinion of all others; and is the chief cause why sects and schisms do so much abound, and true knowledge is kept at distance from us; besides yet a greater danger which is in it.

In the meantime, if anyone wants to write and lend a hand to the slow-moving Reformation we’re dealing with, if Truth has spoken to them before others or at least seemed to, who decided that we should bother that person by asking for permission to do such a meaningful thing? And shouldn’t we consider that if it comes to prohibiting things, there’s nothing more likely to be banned than the truth itself, which at first appears to us, clouded and distorted by bias and tradition, as more unattractive and implausible than many errors, just like how many great individuals can seem slight and contemptible at first glance. And what do they vainly tell us about new opinions when their own view—that only those they approve of should be heard—is the worst and most recent opinion of all? This is the main reason why factions and divisions are so prevalent, keeping true knowledge at bay, along with an even greater danger that comes with it.

For when God shakes a kingdom with strong and healthful commotions to a general reforming, 'tis not untrue that many sectaries and false teachers are then busiest in seducing; but yet more true it is, that God then raises to his own work men of rare abilities, and more than common industry, not only to look back and revise what hath been taught heretofore, but to gain further and go on some new enlightened steps in the discovery of truth. For such is the order of God's enlightening his Church, to dispense and deal out by degrees his beam, so as our earthly eyes may best sustain it.

When God shakes up a kingdom with strong and healthy upheavals for a general reform, it's not wrong to say that many sects and false teachers are actively trying to mislead people; however, it's even more accurate to say that God raises up extraordinary individuals with uncommon dedication to carry out His work. These individuals not only review and refine what has been taught before but also advance and explore new enlightened paths in the pursuit of truth. This is how God enlightens His Church, gradually revealing His light in a way that our earthly eyes can handle.

Neither is God appointed and confined, where and out of what place these his chosen shall be first heard to speak; for he sees not as man sees, chooses not as man chooses, lest we should devote ourselves again to set places, and assemblies, and outward callings of men; planting our faith one while in the old Convocation house, and another while in the Chapel at Westminster; when all the faith and religion that shall be there canonized is not sufficient without plain convincement, and the charity of patient instruction to supple the least bruise of conscience, to edify the meanest Christian, who desires to walk in the Spirit, and not in the letter of human trust, for all the number of voices that can be there made; no, though Harry VII himself there, with all his liege tombs about him, should lend them voices from the dead, to swell their number.

God isn’t limited to specific places or times for his chosen ones to speak; He doesn’t see or choose as people do. If that were the case, we might focus too much on particular places, gatherings, or human roles, putting our faith in the old Convocation House one moment and in Westminster Chapel the next. Yet, the faith and religion validated there aren’t enough without genuine conviction and the kind, patient guidance to heal even the smallest doubts, to support the simplest Christian who wants to live in the Spirit rather than just follow human rules. No amount of voices, even if King Henry VII himself were there with all his royal monuments around him, would change that.

And if the men be erroneous who appear to be the leading schismatics, what withholds us but our sloth, our self-will, and distrust in the right cause, that we do not give them gentle meetings and gentle dismissions, that we debate not and examine the matter thoroughly with liberal and frequent audience; if not for their sakes, yet for our own? seeing no man who hath tasted learning, but will confess the many ways of profiting by those who, not contented with stale receipts, are able to manage and set forth new positions to the world. And were they but as the dust and cinders of our feet, so long as in that notion they may yet serve to polish and brighten the armoury of Truth, even for that respect they were not utterly to be cast away. But if they be of those whom God hath fitted for the special use of these times with eminent and ample gifts, and those perhaps neither among the priests nor among the Pharisees, and we in the haste of a precipitant zeal shall make no distinction, but resolve to stop their mouths, because we fear they come with new and dangerous opinions, as we commonly forejudge them ere we understand them; no less than woe to us, while, thinking thus to defend the Gospel, we are found the persecutors.

And if the men who seem to be the main troublemakers are mistaken, what holds us back except our laziness, stubbornness, and lack of trust in the right cause? Why don’t we offer them respectful meetings and send-offs, why don’t we discuss and thoroughly examine the issue with open and frequent dialogue? Even if not for their sake, then for our own? No one who has experienced learning will deny the many benefits of engaging with those who, dissatisfied with outdated ideas, are able to present and explain new concepts to the world. Even if they were as insignificant as dust and ashes beneath our feet, they could still help polish and enhance the armor of Truth, and for that reason, they shouldn't be dismissed completely. But if they are among those whom God has equipped with special gifts for these times, potentially not among the priests or the Pharisees, and if we, in our rush of misguided zeal, fail to make distinctions and instead aim to silence them because we fear they bring new and dangerous ideas—often judging them before we truly understand them—then woe to us! In trying to defend the Gospel, we may end up being the ones who persecute.

There have been not a few since the beginning of this Parliament, both of the presbytery and others, who by their unlicensed books, to the contempt of an Imprimatur, first broke that triple ice clung about our hearts, and taught the people to see day: I hope that none of those were the persuaders to renew upon us this bondage which they themselves have wrought so much good by contemning. But if neither the check that Moses gave to young Joshua, nor the countermand which our Saviour gave to young John, who was so ready to prohibit those whom he thought unlicensed, be not enough to admonish our elders how unacceptable to God their testy mood of prohibiting is; if neither their own remembrance what evil hath abounded in the Church by this set of licensing, and what good they themselves have begun by transgressing it, be not enough, but that they will persuade and execute the most Dominican part of the Inquisition over us, and are already with one foot in the stirrup so active at suppressing, it would be no unequal distribution in the first place to suppress the suppressors themselves: whom the change of their condition hath puffed up, more than their late experience of harder times hath made wise.

Since the beginning of this Parliament, many from the presbytery and others have challenged the strict controls on publishing with their unauthorized books, disregarding the Imprimatur, and have helped the people see the light. I hope none of them are pushing us back into the bondage they have done so much good to escape. But if the warnings that Moses gave to young Joshua, or the command from our Savior to young John, who was quick to stop those he thought unlicensed, aren't enough to remind our elders how displeasing their harsh prohibitions are to God, and if they don't remember the harm that this licensing has caused in the Church and the good that has come from breaking it, then it seems fair to start by suppressing those who are trying to suppress us. Those who have been puffed up by their changed circumstances are not wiser from their recent hardships.

And as for regulating the press, let no man think to have the honour of advising ye better than yourselves have done in that Order published next before this, "that no book be printed, unless the printer's and the author's name, or at least the printer's, be registered." Those which otherwise come forth, if they be found mischievous and libellous, the fire and the executioner will be the timeliest and the most effectual remedy that man's prevention can use. For this authentic Spanish policy of licensing books, if I have said aught, will prove the most unlicensed book itself within a short while; and was the immediate image of a Star Chamber decree to that purpose made in those very times when that Court did the rest of those her pious works, for which she is now fallen from the stars with Lucifer. Whereby ye may guess what kind of state prudence, what love of the people, what care of religion or good manners there was at the contriving, although with singular hypocrisy it pretended to bind books to their good behaviour. And how it got the upper hand of your precedent Order so well constituted before, if we may believe those men whose profession gives them cause to inquire most, it may be doubted there was in it the fraud of some old patentees and monopolizers in the trade of bookselling; who under pretence of the poor in their Company not to be defrauded, and the just retaining of each man his several copy, which God forbid should be gainsaid, brought divers glossing colours to the House, which were indeed but colours, and serving to no end except it be to exercise a superiority over their neighbours; men who do not therefore labour in an honest profession to which learning is indebted, that they should be made other men's vassals. Another end is thought was aimed at by some of them in procuring by petition this Order, that, having power in their hands, malignant books might the easier scape abroad, as the event shows.

And when it comes to regulating the press, don’t let anyone think they know better than you, as outlined in the order published just before this one: “no book should be printed unless the printer's and the author's name, or at least the printer's, is registered.” Those that come out otherwise, if they're found to be harmful and defamatory, the most timely and effective remedy that can be applied is fire and execution. Because this official Spanish policy of licensing books, if I’ve said anything, will soon prove to be the most unlicensed book itself; and it mirrored a decree from the Star Chamber which was created during those same times when that court carried out its other pious work, for which it has now fallen from grace. This shows what sort of state prudence, what love for the people, and what concern for religion or good manners went into its design, even though it hypocritically pretended to keep books in line. As for how it took precedence over your earlier, well-structured order, if we can trust those who are most familiar with the matter, it seems likely that some old license holders and monopolizers in the bookselling trade were involved; they claimed to protect the poor in their company from being cheated, and to ensure everyone kept their own copies, which we all agree should not be disputed, but instead brought various misleading arguments to the House, which were just that—misleading—and only served to assert dominance over their neighbors. Those who do not work in a noble profession that learning depends upon shouldn’t be made other people’s subordinates. Another aim some of them might have had in pushing for this order through petitions was that, once they held power, harmful books could more easily make their way out into the world, as the results have shown.

But of these sophisms and elenchs of merchandise I skill not. This I know, that errors in a good government and in a bad are equally almost incident; for what magistrate may not be misinformed, and much the sooner, if liberty of printing be reduced into the power of a few? But to redress willingly and speedily what hath been erred, and in highest authority to esteem a plain advertisement more than others have done a sumptuous bride, is a virtue (honoured Lords and Commons) answerable to your highest actions, and whereof none can participate but greatest and wisest men.

But I’m not concerned with these tricks and misleading arguments in trade. What I do know is that mistakes can happen in both good and bad governments; after all, what official isn’t susceptible to being misled, especially when the freedom of the press is controlled by a select few? However, the willingness and promptness to correct those mistakes, and to value straightforward communication above extravagant displays, is a virtue (honored Lords and Commons) that aligns with your greatest actions, and only the wisest and most honorable among us can truly embody it.








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