Areopagitica is a prose speech addressed to the Parliament of England in 1644, written to oppose a recent order that no book could be printed unless first approved and licensed by an official censor. Milton does not call for lawlessness; he accepts that the state may deal with a book after publication. His target is the narrower, more damaging practice of inspecting and approving books before they appear.
He opens by insisting that books are not absolutely dead things. A book preserves, as in a vial, the purest extract of the living mind that made it. To destroy a good book, he argues, is to kill reason itself, an act closer to homicide than to mere regulation, because it strikes at the breath of reason rather than at a perishable life.
Milton then turns historian, tracing where prior licensing came from. He argues that ancient and famous commonwealths did not muzzle books in this way, and that the modern system of licensing crept out of the Inquisition and was taken up by later church authorities. Setting the practice in this lineage is itself part of the argument: a free people should be suspicious of a method invented by those it most resists.
At the center of the speech is a claim about how virtue and truth are actually formed. A person cannot be made good by force, prescription, and compulsion; reason is the freedom to choose, and choosing requires knowing what evil offers and still refusing it. So Milton cannot praise a cloistered virtue that never meets its adversary. Promiscuous reading, including the reading of bad books, is how a discerning mind is trained.
From this Milton draws his trust in open contest. Where truth is in the field, it is an insult to doubt her strength; let truth and falsehood grapple, and truth is never the worse for a free and open encounter. He pictures England as a noble and puissant nation rousing herself, and warns Parliament that to license printing is to distrust its own people. The remedy for error is not suppression but more speech, examined and answered in the open.