to assign and elect from time to time, by writing under the seal of the Chancellor of the University, three stationers and printers, or sellers of books, residing within the University, who might be either aliens or natives, and hold either their own or hired houses. The stationers or printers thus assigned, and every of them, were empowered to print all manner of books approved of by the Chancellor or his vicegerent and three doctors, and to sell and expose to sale in the University or elsewhere within the realm, as well such books as other books printed within or without the realm, and approved of by the Chancellor or his vicegerent and three doctors. If aliens, these stationers or printers were empowered to reside in the University, in order to attend to their business, and were to be reputed and treated as the King's faithful subjects and lieges, and to enjoy the same liberties, customs, laws, and privileges; and to pay and contribute to lot, scot, tax, tallage, and other customs and impositions as the other subjects and lieges of the King. Provided, that the said stationers or printers, being aliens, paid all customs, subsidies, and other monies, for their goods and merchandizes imported or exported, as other aliens[15]. This is the _Magna Carta_ of Cambridge printing and Fuller quotes with quiet pride the opinion of Sir Edward Coke that "this University of Cambridge hath power to print within the same 'omnes' and 'omnimodos libros' which the University of Oxford hath not." We should now expect to see a steady continuance of university printing. But, in spite of the King's letters patent, the history of Cambridge printing for nearly fifty years is a blank. It is true that the university immediately availed itself of the privilege conferred upon it, and the "three stationers and printers or sellers of books residing within the university" who were appointed were Nicholas Speryng, Garrett Godfrey, and Segar Nicholson, whose careers have been sketched above. That two of these were bookbinders and churchwardens, that one owned a brewery, and that one took holy orders we have evidence, but of printing there is no trace. The strangest appointment is that of Nicholson, since the aim of the university in petitioning Wolsey for the control of printing and bookselling was the suppression of those Lutheran doctrines for which Nicholson had recently been imprisoned. But it is clear that, for a time at any rate, the university, while showing no desire to encourage the art of printing, was quick to establish its control and censorship of books.