“_Eas._ Faith so they would be thought, though indeed they are but mongrels, not worthy of that noble attribute. They are indeed bastards, not sons of war and true soldiers, whose divine souls I honour, yet they may be called great spirits too, for their valour is invisible; these, I say, will write you a battle in any part of Europe at an hour’s warning, and yet never set foot out of a tavern; describe you towns, fortifications, leaders, the strength of the enemy, what confederates, every day’s march. Not a soldier shall lose a hair, or have a bullet fly between his arms, but he shall have a page to wait on him in quarto. Nothing destroys them but want of a good memory, for if they escape contradiction they may be chronicled.” By the time James the First began to reign, this employment had so completely moulded itself into a regular craft, that news-writers set up offices and kept “emissaries,” or reporters, to bring them accounts of what was going on in various parts of the metropolis. These reports were sifted, collected, and arranged by the master of the office, or “Register,” who acted as Editor. To Nathaniel Butter, a news-writer of that period, was the British public indebted for the first printed newspaper. Ben Jonson in his “Staple of News” gives a vivid picture of Mr. Butter’s office before he took to printing. _Enter Register and Nathaniel._ _Reg._ What, are those desks fit now? Set forth the table, The carpet and the chair; where are the News That were examined last? Have you filled them up? _Nath._ Not yet, I had no time. _Reg._ Are those News registered That emissary Buz sent in last night, Of Spinola and his eggs? _Nath._ Yes, sir, and filed. _Reg._ What are you now upon? _Nath._ That our new emissary Westminster gave us, of the golden heir. _Reg._ Dispatch; that’s news indeed, and of importance.— _Enter a Country-woman._ What would you have, good woman? _Woman._ I would have, sir, A groat’s-worth of any News, I care not what, To carry down this Saturday to our vicar. _Reg._ O! you are a butter-woman; ask Nathaniel, The clerk there. _Nath._ Sir, I tell her she must stay Till emissary Exchange, or Paul’s send in, And then I’ll fit her. _Reg._ Do, good woman, have patience; It is not now, as when the Captain lived; You’ll blast the reputation of the office, Now in the bud, if you dispatch these groats So soon: let them attend in name of policy. To have served his gaping customers too quickly, would have seemed as though the News was _made_ instead of being collected; so thought the Register.