FREEDOM OF THE PRESS. 75 Wherefore of Law there can be no less acknowledged than that her seat is the bosom of God, her voice the harmony of the world : all things in Heaven and Earth do her homage, the very least as feeling her care, and the greatest as not exempted from her power; both Angels and men and creatures of what condition soever, though each in different sort and manner, yet all with uniform consent, admiring her as the mother of their peace and joy. 6 RICHARD HOOKER: 1553-1600. FREEDOM OF THE PRESS. I DENY not, but that it is of great 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. It is 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. 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, This last paragraph has been cited by good judges as the most eloquent sentence in English prose. It is indeed hard to beat. It closes the first book of the author's great work entitled "Of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity." 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. JOHN MILTON: 1608-1674. MUSIC AT NIGHT. SCENE, -Avenue to PORTIA's House. Enter LORENZO and JESSICA. Lor. The Moon shines bright. In such a night as this, Jess. In such a night Lor. In such a night Stood Dido with a willow in her hand Upon the wild sea-banks, and waved her love To come again to Carthage. Jess. Medea gather'd the enchanted herbs That did renew old son. Lor. In such a night In such a night Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew, And with an únthrift love did run from Venice Did young Lorenzo swear he loved her well, 7 That is, ere she saw the lion himself. 8 Spenser in like sort makes the willow a symbol of forsaken love. Lor. MUSIC AT NIGHT. And in such a night Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew, Slander her love, and he forgave it her. Enter STEPHANO. Lor. Who comes so fast in silence of the night? Steph. A friend. 779 Lor. A friend! what friend? your name, I pray you, friend? My mistress will before the break of day Be here at Belmont: she doth stray about Lor. Who comes with her? Steph. None but a holy hermit and her maid. I pray you, is my master yet return'd? Lor. He is not, nor we have not heard from him. But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica, And ceremoniously let us prepare Some welcome for the mistress of the house. Enter LAUNCELOT. Laun. Sola, sola! wo, ha, ho! sola, sola!1 Lor. Who calls? Laun. Sola! did you see Master Lorenzo and Mistress Lorenzo? -sola, sola! Lor. Leave hollaing, man;— here. Laun. Sola! where? where? Lor. Here. Laun. Tell him there's a post come from my master, with his horn full of good news: my master will be here ere morning. Lor. Sweet soul, let 's in, and there expect their coming. And yet no matter why should we go in? My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you, In old times crosses were set up at the intersection of roads, and in other places specially associated with saintly or heroic names, to invite the passers-by to devotion. 1 The postman used to carry a horn, and blow it to give notice of his coming, on approaching a place where he had something to deliver. Launcelot is here imitating the notes of the horn. hin the house, your mistress is at hand; Sit, Jessica. Look, how the floor of Heaven Enter Musicians. Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn! Jess. I'm never merry when I hear sweet music. Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentive: Fetching mad bounds, bellowing, and neighing loud, If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, Or By the sweet power of music: therefore the poet The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, [Music. 2 A small plate, used in the administration of the Eucharist: it was commonly of gold, or silver-gilt. MUSIC AT NIGHT. And his affections dark as Erebus: Let no such man be trusted. Mark the music. Por. That light we see is burning in my hall. Ner. When the Moon shone we did not see the candle. A substitute shines brightly as a king, 8 Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day. 4 How many things by season season'd are Lor. That is the voice, Or I am much deceived, of Portia. 79 [Music ceases. Por. He knows me, as the blind man knows the cuckoo, Lor. Dear lady, welcome home. Por. We have been praying for our husbands' welfare, * Unless it be heeded, or attended to. Hence music sounds better when there is nothing to divert the attention. 4 The meaning is, that things acquire a relish by being used at the right time and in the right way. Seasoned is flavoured. • Endymion was a very beautiful youth: Juno took a fancy to him, whereupon Jupiter grew jealous of him, and cast him into a perpetual sleep on Mount Latmos. While he was there asleep, Madam Luna got so smitten with his beauty, that she used to come down and kiss him, and lie by his side. |