A COURTLY Controversy, between love and Learning.  
pleasantly passed in Disputation, between a Lady and a Gentleman of Sierra▪  
Wherein is no offence offered to the virtuous nor any ill motion to delight the vicious.  
Honour alit Artes▪  
Imprinted at London by john Charlewood, for Henry Car, dwelling in the old Change, at the sign of the three Coneys. 1581.   

To the Courteous, and worthy minded Gentleman, Master George Gifford, as also to the virtuous Gentlewoman his wife: a happy and continual society of mutual love, with all gracious benefits, to be plentifully planted between them.  
Four things▪ (Right courteous) the Philosophers highly 〈◊〉 to have continual residence in a noble and a gentle mind; a courage to repel the encroaching enemy; a ha●● to consider a loyal friend: a hand to reward the gif●● of the simple: and clemency to accept and pardon a well meaning mind.  
All these by nature spreading gallantly in you both, urged me to commend this little motion of great goodwill, under your wunted favour and friendly patronage: Knowing that the hardest Adamant, dipped in the blood of a Lion or a Goat, will mollify from the hardness it containeth by nature. Even so the simplest work, presented to persons of so great wisdom and gravity, will be construed according to the good meaning of the man, and not after the unlearned phrase of the simple matter.  
Thus remaining, both in duty and desire, the most affectioned to your continual well far: I wish as great content to you in the reading, as it hath been both pain and pleasure to me in the writing.  
Yours, both now and always. A. M.   

To the friendly Reader.  
IT were needless gentle Reader, to use a large preamble in so brief a purpose: or to trifle the time in tediousness, when a word or twain may suffice. It is a custom, and I would be loath to break it, to desire thy friendship, in reading this little fancy: which how far it is from any ill intent, so far I wish evil suspect may be from thy mind. This is all my reque●●, to read with advise, reward with gentleness: and then take thy choice, either of love or Learning.  
Thy friend. A. Monday.   

¶ The Argument.  
PAlunor, a Scholar long time in Sierra, no less seen in Science, then in secrets of Nature, cometh to Padua, and having by Fortune, found to his content, a place meet for his purpose, not only applyant to his serious studies, but also prospective in each kind of pleasure: he endeavoureth himself to his wunted exercise, in so much that he was renowned for a Poet, but how? not as our Poets, that prefer the praise of women: but he only was a Poet more to contemn love, then by any way to commend it. And therefore he was of women utterly abandoned, insomuch that the women gave him this name, Poeta Puella, a maidenly Poet. And being one day walking for his delight, in a pleasant plot not far from his lodging he was descried by a Lady named Caliphia; who of long time had heard of his contempt, and wrong opinion in love. And being desirous to use some conference with him, 〈◊〉 that both time and place fitted so well, she addresseth herself no lefse to salute him: then he seeing her pretence, prepared to countervail such courtesy, which being by both performed; she with a sweet and sober voice, began to say. Sir, if my sudden approach might be no prejudice to your learned practices, or otherwise my demand not unto you disdainful: I than would crave your doom concerning a doubt which yet resteth● unresolved, and the case not so curious as I am persuaded to have solution by your skill. The Scholar hereat somewhat abashed, more to see her person in his presence, whom he knew to be the prize of Padua, then for any despair he had in disclosing her demand: with courteous and cold communication reaunswered to be at her command; reverently beseeching her▪ not to conceal any cause which she deemed his learning could define. Which courtesy she so well accepted, that turning to such as were in her company: she willed them to walk aside, till she by sign, gave show to have them come. And being bashful, began so sweetly for to blush: that the blood brought to her beauty a far better favour than before. And thus her tale beginneth.   

¶ A Delicate Discourse betwixt a Lady, and a Scholar of Sierra.  Lady. 
I Have desired of long time, to have heard your opinion, but sure my hope never happed so well as my will did wish, till now at this instant, when least I looked, it is my chance to gain my desire. And therefore not refusing opportunity so well offered, nor your courtesy proffered, know you Sir in brief, my demand is this. Whether Learning may live without love, or love live without Learning: Lo this is all, it is no difficult demand, and yet sure it is doubtful to me, therefore I beseech your opinion herein.  Scholar. 
Madame, as your reason doth crave no rash reply, so are the causes to be scanned according to their virtue, the commodity of the one contemns the discommodity of the other: and sure▪ they both are not to be spared, yet may the one be utterly rejected, and that is love. For touching the nature of the same, although by a natural instinct, men have rather given themselves thereto then otherwise: the thing of itself is but a vain desire, a pleasant flame or fury kindled by affection, a bitter sweet: or rather as I might term it ●●perefanion Cacone, a sweet evil ●auste with a sour sap: the commodity whereof cannot be so commended, but the abuses thereof more utterly abhorred. For why? as the thing itself ought to be preferred as most sacred and profound, so the inexecrable vices linked there unto, and the mischiefs so many which thereof ensueth: maketh the delight more odious than honourable, so that there is no comparison, but that Learning may better live without love, then love without Learning. For as love is generally rather thought a vice, more than a virtue: so Learning from his original is thought the only touch, that trieth such vanities to be rather detested then desired. But now as touching Learning and the sweet commodity thereof▪ I say that it is the Key of the Common wealth, the only loadstone of mans● life, the Nurse and Foster mother 〈◊〉 Science, the sure supporter and upholder of virtue: yea and the stronger and trusty Tower, that serves to● guard & govern Princes. Sure, if I should say so much of Learning, as if liberty would permit I could be well content to discourse: my tongue should not wax so weary, as your ears would be desirous to hear the depth of such a tale. For to Learning, is not only the charge of the Common wealth committed: but also there dependeth thereupon the divine direction, and safeguard to man's soul. Without learning there could be no Law, without Law no L●ue, yea and without love no life: So that Learning by Law doth rather maintain love, then love by Law maintain learning. Beside, I could tell of a number, which by learning have been advanced to honour, whereas yet by love I have heard of very few. For what was ever with the Romans so much in estimation as Learning? always the Senate was supplied with singular Scholars, they regarded not the value but the virtue: so that Learning found there more liberty than love. 
Hear was won wealth by wisdom.  A simple shepherds son, by Learning hath proved a Praetor, yea or rather Dictator of Room. How many Clowns have been brought to the like honour by love? if none, than Madam you are to be loving subject to Learning, to whom I give the Sovereignty. And as for love, this I pronounce, it is generally vice, though a particular virtue, and sure a very mere vanity; better to be wanted then wished: for by authority, aswell sacred as profane, there is left to us a memory of the manifold mischiefs, that thereby have chanced. And therefore (Madam) my answer is this, Learning excelleth love, if to the contrary you think yourself able to defend my argument: you here have liberty to prove at your pleasure.  Lady. 
I thank you for it, but I perceive if I were so ignorant, that I could not myself define on such a doubt: I were much the better to refer my want to your wisdom, for you argue, but you will not allow: either you deem me too simple to compare with your skill, or my wit too weak to countervail your wisdom. But Sir, surmise you now dispute with a Dame, and not a Doctor: as I am not altogether a Sophister, so think me not so ignorant: but that I can sound the depth of a greater doubt than I have yet demanded. And whereas you rather infer the praise only to Learning and not to love: I will prove that love in a public weal, is to be allowed above Learuing, and Learning more better to be spared then love. first consider, that love is no particular property: but that the same is general and common to all living creatures, but of humanity most honoured. Secondly consider the original from whence love taketh his beginning. And lastly, 
Philosophy in a woman.  scan the sense according to the simple meaning: and then tell me how great a matter is included in this little word love. You will not deny, but by nature men are learned to love, and by love, Nature had her beginning. How can it then be chosen, but love herein was Schoolmaster to Learning: seeing the original was love by Nature? which brought forth Scholars though not trained in Schools.  Scholar. 
Not so, for as love at the first was rather Subject unto Nature, than either Nature or love a subject unto Learning: so time herein was to be preferred before either. 
Theology.  For time brought forth Nature, and Nature engendered love, of love came Law, and of Law Learning. So that I say, learning had his original from the beginning, and love by the divine substance of the Deity, gave aid to Nature: which after made love a Schoolmaster, and Learning a Scholar. But how? that men ought to love Learning, and not Learning to like of love. For why? the discommodities thereof are so dangerous: as that patriarchs, Prophets, Princes, yea and the most notable Philosophers, do utterly esteem it as an enemy to all virtue.  
How many Princes, and other of as great power, have (by profane and sacred authority) been seduced by this deceitful love? I read of salomon, David his Father, 
Genesis.  yea Abraham and Lot, whom though all these were chosen Uessels of the Lord, yet could they not but dote upon this vain desire. And therefore, these have left behind them, a staff to lead the ignorant, lest as they did, they feel the scourges of Follie. And yet Abraham forgot God's promise, & doted upon Agar: David earnestly repent, and Solomon when he perceived he had sinned, asked mercy of the Lord. Therefore I must appropriate to them, that love: thus saying. Dulce bellum in expertis, War is sweet to those that never felt it. And so Madam is love, but his savour is sour.  Lady. 
You have made a long protestation, but I pray you tell me, if love had not been liked of such holy fathers: whether had they hazarded their souls or not, for so sweet a sin?  Scholar. 
I deem that although by Nature they sinned, having a lust rather to flesh then faith: yet by repentance their sin was but small, and that their sins left us a sacred Testimony, to eschew so vain a delight as love, which in the end is repentance. As said Demostenes, when he at Corinthe desired Lays of love, 
Whereof arose th●s Proverb.  whose price being too high pitched for his person, 
Non licea omnibus adire Corinthum.  he answered: I will not buy repentance so dear. Lo Lady, how little was love esteemed, although Lays offered herself for a sum, which was then the third Thirioletta or Harlot of the world. How think you herein?  Lady. 
Marry very well, for as I remember, the most wisest, learnedst, yea and moste Poets and Philosophers, were made by Lays a laughing stock, who hearing one day great praise spoken of the Philosophers and School of Athens: as one suddenly breaking out in laughter, she replied thus. Are these (quoth she) they whom you report for their learning 
Lays had more.  so much renowned: 
scholars then ever had Socrates.  and come to Corinth to learn of Lays? Now certainly (quoth she) I am the Philosopher, and they are my Pupils or Scholars: for all their study could never comprehend, what I in Corinth have given them to understand. How think you now to Lays? was she not as skilful in Learning as in love?  Scholar. 
In neither of both.  Lady. 
Why? she was beautiful.  Scholar. 
Yea, but more bountiful: for she was better learned in lust then in 
Lays was Daughter to one of the priests of Apollo.  love, or else she had been the only Dame and delight of Pyrrhus. But she learned love, and all her delight was to train her Disciples with the like. So, that her learning proved lust, her beauty a wrimpled bravery, and all her Doctrine none other but destruction. If I should stand upon authority, I could recite a number through her folly brought to misery: & sure at the time when she lived, there were other twain, Lamia the Concubine of Demetrius, and Flora being an Italian, far more of honour then either Lays or Lamia. And therefore (Madam) you cannot ascribe any laud unto Lays: s●eing that by lust, she was both enemy to love, and foe unto learning. For there is neither Poet, Orator, nor Philosopher: but utterly abhorreth Lays, with her adherents in all their labours.  Lady. 
Which are they? express.  Scholar. 
Why? Plato, aristotel, Socrates, Isocrates, Demostenes, and Pericles.  Lady. 
Why? were all these by Women wronged?  Scholar. 
No, but the evils that happened to others in their time: made them the more earnest to envy ●ooue.  Lady. 
Yet Ovid liked 〈◊〉, 
A Philosopher subject to Follie.  Virgil did not hate it, nor as I remember Aristotle abhor it, for if ● had, his Hermia had never rid him: he had not been subject to the spur, nor her beauty been the occasion to snaffle his skill, but he doted on delight.  Scholar. 
Yet excepting his folly, who was comparable to him either in life or learning?  Lady. 
Marry that was love, by whom Learning lost his liberty, and Lust received the benefit of both. For the fancy of the flesh killed the desire of knowledge, and therefore lust at that time restrained Reason, and  Lady. 
And why Sir?  Scholar. 
For that Plato rather was amorous, to try the inconstancy of Looue● then for any affection borne to Archenasse.  Lady. 
Now certainly Plato 〈…〉 beholding to you, 〈…〉 more beholding to 〈…〉 would not 〈…〉 unwisely have defended 〈…〉. But since you are 〈…〉 far, of troth take 〈…〉 losopjer, and then make 〈…〉 to Venus, as well for the 〈…〉 best.  
I am sure you were 〈…〉 of S●crates, and for 〈…〉 bear him, you will not ●eare 〈◊〉 abused: 
Written 〈◊〉 Clearel●●●●  but: yet I pray 〈…〉 angry with Aspasi●, though she Schooled your Socrates according to her own skill. If she being a woman had power to teach such a Tutor: How then can you deny, but love is the only Lamp of Learning▪ the Adamant which draws you to amorous delight, yea & the very Idol whom you seek, although you serve the Saint, and sew unto the shrine. Tush Sir, if Trees could speak, Stones bewray their meanings, or 〈…〉 the delight which they 〈◊〉 by love: what were 〈…〉 more, than now there 〈…〉 And yet I dare avouch, 〈…〉 natural conjunction as 〈…〉 creatures, as for exam●●● 〈…〉 Female from the Male, ●he 〈…〉 dieth, yea both perhap●● 〈◊〉 therefore generally, in all things, love is to be preferred 〈…〉. For why? Learning 〈…〉 esteemed but with the wi●e, nor ●ath any lasting, perpetuity 〈…〉 permit: But love is immortal, not to be by death destroyed.  
And therefore Sir, you play on a wrong Pipe, to condemn love, and commend learning.  Scholar. 
Certainly Madam, you weary yourself although to small purpose, for you choose such occasions as best may serve your 〈◊〉▪ but you never regard the wrong which you d●● to the Author.  Lady. 
Why? have I 〈…〉  Scholar. 
Not one, but all.  Lady. 
Oh Sir, I blame you 〈…〉 severe, seeing that your 〈…〉 Science is almost spoiled 〈…〉 You could do very 〈…〉 should not say somewhat for them and yourself. But 〈◊〉 that, I now will somewhat digress, to show you of a rare example that happened by 〈◊〉 ● if you will bestow time to hear it.  Scholar. 
Certainly Madam that I will, or else you might deem me very ingrate.  Lady. 
W●ll, than Sir attend.  
As I remember Athineus writeth, that a certain Courtesan named 〈◊〉 Milesienna, 
A proper example by three loovers, written by Athineus.  no less adorned with regards of Nature, than 〈◊〉 ●er person preferred in heart of 〈…〉 personages: was desired of many, not of the inferior sort, but of the best, insomuch, as that in the end▪ she fixed her fancy to favour 〈…〉 the named Colophomen, 〈…〉 ●●quisite in beauty: with 〈…〉 her dearest and daintiest 〈◊〉, she chose to perform her amorous pleasures, although others had some interest, yet to him she was at 〈◊〉 command.  
Nevertheless, as I will not herein commend her last●uious life: so I will not forget to ●●we a rare regard of loyalty, to be in this common Courtesan.  
 
She determined 〈…〉 to give him over first, 〈…〉 should understand she 〈…〉 new made choice: and 〈…〉 one day to put the same 〈…〉 what time her lover 〈…〉 thinking to be no less welcome t●en before: he found his Lady had changed her copy, the 〈◊〉 was altered, her countenance seemed to him 〈◊〉 could as the Ice of the Mountain, making no account either of his proffers or of his complaints. Which when Colophomen once conceived 〈…〉  
The youngman departing 〈◊〉 rate of all hope, either to 〈◊〉 grace of his Lady, or the 〈…〉 compass the Chain of 〈…〉 last hazarding the hap of both 〈◊〉 me th●to Bachide, and unto her 〈◊〉 the dollerous discourse, late hap●pened twixt him, and his 〈◊〉 fr●e●d. Not forgetting to beseech 〈◊〉 of her mountie, in committing to the court●fie of his ancient 〈…〉 Chain, whom he so dearly 〈◊〉 Bachide, 
A singular courtesy in a Courtesan.  which beheld with what care her Colophomen was 〈◊〉, and how beside, of long time the familiarity was great twixt 〈◊〉 〈…〉 young man: saying. 〈…〉 shall never cause my 〈◊〉 to be contemned, take the 〈◊〉 therefore, and present thy Lady 〈◊〉 therewith: and say, that 〈◊〉 than she should be jealous 〈…〉 of her jewel, I send her my jewel to drive away her jealousy. The young man having the Chain departed, how glad, that I commit to the 〈◊〉 of loovers. And finding his friend Milisienna, presenteth her therewith: not forgetting to add thereto the words of Bachide. Which when Milisienna had well 〈◊〉, and saw the courtesy, 〈…〉 also resigns her 〈…〉 Colophomen to be at her 〈…〉 for herself, to be at the 〈…〉 pleasure of them both. 〈…〉 not to put in practice, ought 〈◊〉 should be prejudice to either 〈…〉 persons: So to conclude, they 〈◊〉 were contented to impart then 〈◊〉 alike to Colophomen. I do 〈◊〉 now, which of these had the greater conquest: she that bestowed her Chain so bountefully, or she that returned it with so great a reward, as to commit her friend to the liking of the other.  Scholar. 
Certainly, she that gave the Chain was the greatest Conqueror, for that she did hazard it without hope of any hap ● and 〈…〉  Lady. 
〈◊〉 is this your opinion?  Scholar. 
〈…〉, but to what end serves 〈…〉, I cannot perceive it?  Lady. 
Nay you will not, and that is 〈◊〉, for if you did, you then might 〈◊〉 how secret the effects of love wrought in these three: but especially in the man, for he being forsaken of Milesinna, with charge never to pre●●●● her presence, without the 〈◊〉 of B●chide: did 〈◊〉 haz●●● 〈…〉 so that his hap hung 〈…〉 unless he brought the 〈…〉  Scholar. 
Alas Madam, this is but 〈◊〉 example, to approve this 〈…〉 loyal either of the one or 〈…〉: for you confess them 〈◊〉, them are they common by 〈◊〉 and look what kind doth, 〈…〉 hardly be reform. Therefore 〈◊〉 Lo●ue was Lust, their courte●●● 〈◊〉 unchaste: yea & all their praise 〈◊〉 to be counted pernicious, then to be preferred for perfect. But now Madam) ●éeing we are entered 〈◊〉 far into examples of love 〈…〉 you of o●e more notable than any yet rehearsed, which plutarch hath written in contempt of love, and his law, and that is this.  
〈…〉 years in her unchaste and lascivious love: she was a● length demanded 〈…〉, and so delightful to 〈◊〉, that by the sudden glance 〈…〉 from her enticing looks 〈◊〉 caught in the mischéeu●● 〈◊〉 and net of her beauty. In 〈◊〉, as his own former plea●●●● 〈◊〉 were utterly abandoned: and 〈◊〉 his fancy fixed to behold the 〈…〉 favour of his Lamia. In so much, as that he would u●uallye swea●e by Lamia, as had she been a Godde●●●: and as Plu●a● 〈…〉 at such time when the athenians to assist him in his wars, 〈…〉 of their courtesies eleven, Talents of silver to pay his Soldiers: 
11. Talents of Silver given to a H●rlot.  he regarding more the love of his Lamia, than the safety or 〈…〉  
〈…〉 take my Lamia's life, thou leavest 〈◊〉 her love behind with me. She being dead (as some writers affirm) was by him kissed and embraced as 〈◊〉 when she lived: & when he saw n● remedy, but the law of nature must have her due, he caused her sepulchre to be made before his window, whereas he used once a day whilst he lived to wail the death of her. In so much the it was proponed by the Philosophers of Athens, 〈◊〉 works yet live, and in spite of 〈◊〉, they vaunt of victory. Therefore (Madam) here was love lost with Lamia, and though Demetrius, 〈◊〉 her, his Learning did loath her. And therefore I hope this example may make you content not to strive any further.  Lady. 
Nay Sir, you shall not so shake me off, seeing you by common Courtesans do rather gain glory, then by loyal love used of constant Ladies: I will now requite your example with the like, although I might rather blush then to boast thereof. Yet seeing we stand upon example hitherto, only upon praise and dispraise of love: I purpose now to wade a little farther, and either to prove love Sovereign of Learning, or Learning superior, and love his Subject. I am sure you are not ignorant of Flora, for that I heard you name her of late, the life of whom, though I wish not to commend: so will I not condemn her wisdom, in the subtle Schooling and Nurtering of her Pupils or Scholars.  
FLora was of birth noble, of nature gentle, of parsonage beautiful, and of love liberal, in so much that over the place where she dwelled, she set up this scroll or prescript. Except King Prince, 
A large title.  Dictator, Praetor, Consul, Censor or Questor, here is no place for any to enter. As for Emperor or kaiser, they were not then known, this was her use, she never set her honour like Lays to salary: for Lays would commonly have her higher before hand. Now Flora had this fetch, she as not respecting Gold or Silver, gave herself to be governed by her lover. And so by this means she got treasure infinite, for why? this was her common phrase, being one day demanded the cause by Noble men, why she refused to ask what she would have, she answered thus.  
I commit myself (quoth she) to Princes and Noble men, that according to my beauty, I may be partaker of their bounty. For (quoth she) by the Gods whom I do serve, there was never man gave me so little, but that I had more than I looked for, or double to my demand. There ought (quoth she) no sage woman to set herself to sale, for all things in the world are rated at a price, except love, and that is not to be paid but with love: so that none ought to demand duty for the amorous pleasure she doth to a man, but for the love she beareth unto him. This was the opinion of this Courtesan, who though she were common, it was not so much for coin as courtesy. She sought to none, yet was she sought of all. The learnedst thought no shame to be her Scholars. Then Ergo love was here more regardant than Learning when Consuls & Censores left all for lust & love of Flora. Whether was Wit or Wisdom here best Scholar? Witte wan love and wealth, and Wisdom lost wealth and gained Lust.  Scholar. 
Sure Madam, you scan the sense contrary, for though Flora found such fortune, as that the wisest and wealthiest were bondmen unto her beauty: yet she never held Learning in subjection. Learning still had liberty to triumph over love, although the learned were snared by her subtlety. So that if love have conquered any, blame the Book bearer, and not the Book: for Learning itself never yet hath nor will bend to beauty, I stand upon this opinion.  Lady. 
Of troth I believe you think yourself in your study, or else you would not speak so obscure: but what figure you take I know not, but well I note all your words are per Allegoriam. But Sir according to my Lodgicke, I will approve, that as long as the Learned are living, they enjoy Learning, and the benefit thereof: you cannot separate them a sunder, for conquer one and take both. Even as a man should say, take my heart and take my life, naming two when one would suffice. Therefore Sir, I say that if Loone subdue the Learned, she than is conqueror of both: unless you will make a distinction, touching the person of the one, and the property of the other, and that you cannot, for that they both are so fast linked as nothing can sunder them: therefore you err, if to the contrary you construe the case.  Scholar. 
Well, than I perceive you will have it: either to what perfection you please, or else you will not give over. And therefore as I remember, 
Cornelius Suetonius.  Cornelius Suetonius showeth a notable example, to the utter abolishing of love, which you term amorous or pleasant pastimes: and for because that you will not be persuaded, that love can any way be rejected rightfully: I will now by example prove it to be so odious, as you yourself shall confess it hath varied from the laws of Nature: and this is the example.  
THe Tyrant Nero, who not only long time moster inordinately and beastly, spoiled a number of Virgins and chaste Ladies: 
A most horrible act of Nero. both against God. and the Law of nature.  but also finding a beautiful Boy, more pleasant in his eyes then any other Virgin or woman: caused his secrets to be spoiled, thinking thereby to have him transformed to his own pleasure, by such a Metamorphosis as of a man to have a woman. Not long after he married him, naming him Sporus, endowing him with such secret duties, as to a Wife are due by dowry. Here was lust more than law of Nature, and yet it was love. But I hope you will not allow this, seeing that Nature was here a foe unto herself, in kindling so great a fire in Nero, as could not be quenched without such a cursed conjunction. This Lust of Nero quite extinguished the glory of love, and makes the same so odious to the ears of such as read this tragedy: that men rather seek by reason to bridle such fiery affections, then to be found acquainted with such pestilent passions. So that Cornelius and Suetonius do leave their Learning, to be a Lamp or Loadstone unto our lives, that though we seek to be rather thrall to love, then by Learning to have liberty: yet their counsel is herein to be ruled by Learning, and not to range beyond reason: so that Learning is here utter enemy to love.  
Furthermore, sith I am so far entered, I will yet make a farther discourse of the unnatural love of a Father to his own Child: that the terror of the tale may give light as in a Glass, to behold how unchaste and inconstant love, is for the most part.  Lady. 
Begin your tale, I attend the same with diligence.  Scholar. 
WEll Madam, then know you when Diophes was King of Egypt, 
Herodotus.  whose substance, treasure and revenues, were utterly consumen and spent, to maintain a sumptuous work, which he had then in hand: the number of whose workmen, was not so f●we as one hundred thousand. Who labouring long time upon a pile (as the Author affirmeth) wasted so much wealth: as that he was not only destitute, but also desperate to comprehend the same. 
A father compelleth his own daughter to live laciviously.  And seeing by no means possible the same could be finished but only by the mean of money, which then he did want: He cometh to his Daughter, and commandeth her earnestly to give herself to sensual prostitution, menacing her not only to pitch a great price upon her honour: but also to embrace every one that brought to her commodity. Which soon after she fulfilled, no less with regard to her own profit, than also to perform her promise to her father. For look how many dealt or had dalliance with her, of every such she demanded a Stone: whereby at last she gathered such a gain, that the price thereof builded the Pyramids, a certain hill which beareth on the top one hundredth and fifty foot. This love you must needs confess was neither good nor godly: and therefore Learning in this place had been better than love. For then the excessive expense of the father, had never sought the sale and the spoil of his own seed: but here was Lust and no Learning, which forced folly both in Father and Daughter.  
Farther more as I remember, 
A strange kind of loving.  Lodovicus Vartomanus writeth of a strange and wonderful wooing or love making: which in a province in India named Tarnassery, is commonly used, and thus it is.  
WHat time as any young man becometh amorous of any Dame: he cometh to her, and taking a piece of woollen clothe which he dippeth in Oil, he clappeth the same to his naked arm, and setting fire thereto: he protesteth by his Gods to endure no less torment for her whom he loveth, then that which in her sight she seeth him to receive: signifying thereby, that there is no torment or martyrdom that may be ministered to a man, but that he is able to abide the same for her sake. But what think you Madam? wrought love or Learning first the effect? If it were love, what need he then to scorch his skin? If it were Learning, as it can be no other, unless Divine inspiration put it in his head, which if it were, yet was it Learning, although applied leawdely, to a more lascivious Lust.  
How think you Madam? have you examples enough, or will you any more?  Lady. 
My sense is almost surprised with these detestable, yea or rather devilish discourses: for amongst all these evils, although I confess they have been contributores to Cupid, there hath not yet been any without spot: and yet the bad is as good as the best to reason with you. But leaving them as they are, not yielding any whit to Learning: What think you now Sir? of such Dames whose virtues have been vaunted of the wisest, praised of Philosophers and Poets: yea, and so lamented of the learnedst, as that neither Pen nor Poet was able to discourse the love and loyalty, which in their lives they ought to their husbands? ne like case, to Record the revenge with living, with their Husband's loss, they used on themselves?  
first to begin with Porcia, 
Porcia consumed herself with hot coals.  the Daughter of Cato, and wife unto Brutus: who when she understood of the slaughter of her spouse: not having an instrument for death, so ready as she wished, to show the love and loyalty she bore to her Brutus, devoured burning coals. Cleopatra Queen of Egypt, 
●ppianus Alex.  at such time as the death of her Antonius, was once to her revealed: no mirth, no meat, no delight, was so much desired of her as death Whom when Octavius Caesar had perceived, and saw by her passions, that she could not prevent the same without peril of her person: he caused her to be strongly guarded, war●ly watched, yea and so circumspectly conducted, as that he deemed her safe, from seeking slaughter of herself. But how brought she to pass her will? she approved a stranger torment, than either sword or fire: and that which most dear she always reserved for Antonius, she refused not to bestow bountefully on venomous Serpents, wherewith her corpses was clean consumed. Thirdly, let us not forget that loyal Lady Arthemezia, Queen of Caria, and wife of Mansolus: who when her Husband's death was blown into her ears, wept so bitterly with such abundance of tears, that well nigh all the moisture in her body, converted into watery humores, yea, or rather floods of Salt drops. Whose death, when with mourning and sorrowing, she had sufficiently supplied: she caused a most sumptuous Sepulchre or Shrine to be made, and as the bodies wasted and consumed, so drank she up still the dust of her dear Mansolus: never leaving, till the very bones had satisfied her, as the rest before. Thus was herself the Sepulchre of her spouse, deeming the worms unworthy for him, although they were fed with herself. Furthermore, Livy reciteth, that when it was reported to julia, 
Titus Livius.  how Pompaeus her husband was slain in the field: she took the same so sorrowful, that in the presence of Pompaeus, she passed her life. Also the wife of Brucollo an Allemaigne, when for treason her husband was by the Emperor Claudius Marcello condemned to be devoured of Lions: she sued unto the Emperor, to participate the torment of her Husband. And when she saw no intercession would serve, neither for his surety of life, nor for herself, who desired to accompany him to death: she broke into such a fury, 
Augustino de panchio.  as not regarding the torment, she spoke the most vile and reproachful words she could invent, against the Emperor Claudius. Yea, and if his Guard had not been, she had slain him. Which the Noble Emperor seeing, and considering of the cause: not only pardoned her Husband and herself, but also gave them largely for to live.  
How think you now sir? whether doth love or Learning here get most praise? Learning in this place prefers love, or else there had been no memory made of the lives of these chaste and constant Ladies. And therefore Learning hath made a Register, and volume of their virtues, wishing others to imitate the like, as did these honest Matrons, whose lives is the only Lamp or Loadestone for Ladies. How think you Sir? can you allege any thing to the contrary?  Scholar. 
I cannot well condemn them, ne will I else commend any particular person.  Lady. 
Why? were they not chaste and constant to their husbands: that would not refuse to accompany them to the death?  Scholar. 
I will not deny, but their death did argue a great sign of constancy: for that in such extremities, the loss of life is a Touchstone, either to try love to be faithful, or else to be feigned. For otherwise, there are many, that will vow in show to taste any torment, for the health or surety of their husbands, 
Death tries the troth of all men.  but the deeds die wi●h th● death of the Husband. And therefore, for troth, I must give praise to those whom you have named: but ●ouching their death; for that the same was done desperately, there can be no cause of praise preferred to such persons. For that by sacred writ, we are 〈◊〉, in what sorrow or 〈◊〉 soever we be, not to shorten 〈◊〉 days by any stroke of death: but patiently to take the same, until by the providence of God, we find ease of all such evils. And therefore Learning hath left no such laud of the death of these Dames, although their lives be worthy the writing. Therefore (Madam) you must vale now, and give place to Learning: or else you err much in your opinion, for that you by their deaths, make them to be renowned, which rather deserve utterly, to be reproachfully reputed. In that they, to feed their fond and amorous affection, would by the loss of their 〈◊〉, breath life into the bodies of their buried husband 〈…〉 wish with my heart, all women 〈◊〉 follow the same: but touching their deaths, that I refer to Divines: but surely, on my part it is utterly detested. For I can appropriate no 〈◊〉 to such a pernicious 〈◊〉 ne can any man commend the same to be done of constancy, but rather frantic or foolishly, And therefore (Madam) I cannot allow your argument to be good.  Lady. 
Why Sir? I am sure I have forged no fable, whereby to make their praise a precedent 〈◊〉 my purpose: ●e seek I to attribute to their doings any larger discourse, than I can affirm ●y authority. And therefore, i● 〈◊〉 the contrary, have declared of 〈…〉 e'en dead. And if by their deaths they have rather merited reproach then renown: who then is in the fault, but those that have painted their praise, in place of dispraise. For if their lives were honourable, and their deaths odious: their lives should have been registered, & their deaths been put in oblivion. But I will not be persuaded (although you deem their desperation to be damnable) but that those Dames do yet live in delight 〈◊〉 for at that time they rather choosed death to win a 〈◊〉 life thereby, 
A good hope.  then to live licentiously, to die a double death.  
And therefore ●y opinion is, these Ladies, although they knew not Christianity: 〈◊〉 had and have they● fowls, the glory and gain of 〈◊〉 on, and therefore Learning 〈…〉 l●ttle to contend with 〈…〉  
But now unto a farther 〈◊〉 you will not allow love to be 〈◊〉 over Learning: and therefore 〈◊〉 approve it by an example, 〈◊〉 shallbe no less familiar than faithful: What, will you then give over?  Scholar. 
Madame, I will ●iue you the hearing, and as I like your reason, so shall you hear my reply: if it be good, I will allow it, if otherwise, I must and will confess the contrary.  Lady. 
Well then Sir to the purpose.  
WHen the King of Hetruria had 
Titus Livius.  sent his def●aunce to the Senate of Room, and that his Legates expected the answer of the Senator●: Mutius Sc●●uola and Coclius (than Consuls) being in the Senate: the●● was a controversy between 〈◊〉 they were divided on contra●●● 〈◊〉, part held it best to make 〈◊〉 with the etrurians, and 〈◊〉 some to give answer to the ●●ntrary, but especially Coclius, who 〈◊〉 an eloquent Oration openly 〈◊〉 the Senate: persuaded the Romans' not to take truce, but valiantly to prove themselves, as their noble Progenitors had done before them. Whose Oration being ended, as you know Scaevola replied, that Coclius had little care of his Country, so to persuade them to wars: when by their wisdoms, they were able to appease the hatred of the Hetrurian King. But whilst they contended about this case, a Messenger came running 〈◊〉 into the Senate house, and brought ridings how the enemy was at 〈◊〉: the Fields were covered with armed men, and the Walls of Room at point to b● scaled. Which Co●●●us hea●ing, now my Lords (quoth he) defend Room by your wisdom and Learning, I leave you: and with that word suddenly departed, and hastily 〈◊〉 himself, came first to 〈…〉 where, by an assault, the enemy 〈◊〉 ready to enter. 
One man fought against a whole Army.  But Coclius 〈◊〉 more the safeguard of his 〈…〉 then surety of himself, stood in 〈◊〉 fence and kept the Bridge 〈◊〉 the whole Host of Etrurians: and when he saw no remedy, he fired the Bridge betwixt him and the enemy, and taking his half shield, which then he had left, he refused not to leap into Tiber, and so to hazard his life▪ rather than to leave to his foes the conquest and spoil of his Country. Here was love more than Learning: for if Learning could have defended Room, I deem it sufficiently supplied with Scholars. But here was love conquer●●, and whilst love laboured by life to free Room from ruin Learning lay soft at home, expecting, when the enemy would come to fight with words, But had love, both by Coclius, and after by Mucius Scaeuola ● been no better Soldiers to their Country by their love, than such Scholars by their 〈…〉 walls of Rome should then 〈◊〉 at this day, the sloth of their 〈◊〉 Senators, and praise the love and virtue of Coclius and 〈◊〉. And though the one held 〈◊〉 a wrong opinion, against the other: when Mutius Scaevola had heard what a valiant exploit was by Coclius achieved: What (quoth he) shall Mutins' he mewed up in the Senate, and hear such fame ring in Rome of Coclius? No. And with that word, he departed to the Camp of his enemy, where he by his endeavour showed such a love to his Country: as never was the like since the death of Curtius. 
Curtius who leapt into the gulf at Room.  Whose example if I seem to pass with out praise: I should sure eclipse the honour that by him was done to Room, and also wrong much the Knight, who for his Country counted his life to be as nothing. These and such other examples are rife in memory, and therefore I but give notice of their noble nature. But Sir, how many were in Room of your profession, that for the public weal, would put himself in peril like to any of these? that is to say, Coclius, Curtius, or Mutius Scaevola. And how if I named Marcius, Regulus, Manlius, Coriolanus, yea, or Scipio, surnamed Africanus? these were all Scholars, yea and Senators. But how many showed like love to Room as they did, and had so small a guerdon for their good will?  
Manlius, 
A sor●● recompense for true service.  after long and many years, venturing his life in the quarrel and right of his Country: When he came unto Room, was thrown over the walls into the river Tiber, Coriol●nus was banished, and when he 〈…〉 Voltians against the 〈◊〉 Room: they then fearing their destruction, sent out his Mother, Wife, and children, with charge not to return, till they with him had gotten truce. Which once understood of the Voltians, when he returned to his Camp, he ●as of them traitorously slain. M●r●us Regulus after many notable things by him achieved: was cruelly stoned, or pres● to death by his own Countrymen, whom he had done so much for. Scipio likewise, spending all his time, in the wars and defence of his Country: never found any such enemy as Room, which rewarde● him with banishment. So that he died in a village in the Country, accusing Room to be the enemy, and author of all his evils. 
A 〈…〉  Hannibal likewise, found Carthage so unkind, that flying in his old age to Prusius ●or succour, 〈…〉: and so rather than to yield to his foes, poisoned himself. These fellows loved not to pra●● of Table Philosophy, nor to make a 〈◊〉▪ sitting in their ladies lappas. For these loovers never went to study, what eloquence they should use to please their loovers: but bluntly powered it out, that both earth and Skies, resounded the Echo df their envy.  
And furthermore, 
A rare example.  when as Dametria understood, that her son, sent in the defence of his Country, failed to show his valiancy according as it was in charge to him committed. How answered she the Messenger? Hath not my son (quoth she) won fame to his Country? No certainly (quoth he) but utter dishonour by his cowardness. Well (quoth she) and what he hath lost among his foes, at his return he shall find amongst his friends: he shall never bring confusion to his Country, nor sorrow to my so●le: 〈…〉 reward, 〈…〉 son within a while came home, and having then prootic valiant indeed, came, according to the ancient custom of C●nquer●●s. Which wh● she saw; she with tears seemed tenderly to welcome him: But in the dead time of his sleep she murdered him. And being demanded the cause, she replied thus. Hereby (quoth she) I have freed myself and country from a coward, and given victory to him by death, that could not attain it by life: meaning, that by his death, his Country should never come to ruin by his cause.  
Here was a strange kind of love, when the Common wealth was nourished before nature and the liberty thereof pawned by the price and corpses of her own Child. But she esteemed not his life so much, as the love she ought to her Country: yet was she Learned, and 〈◊〉 Law of nature, thought her son worthy to taste such a torment.  
Also Genutius, 
A most rare constancy in Genutius, who to keep inviolate the Roman law, c●used his own Son to be slain●.  when his enemies Camp and his were so nigh, as that the one would (in time of tru●●) visit ●he other: he commanded upon pain of death, no man for any cause, the Trumpet of truce once sounded, should encounter his enemy.  
Not long after, it happened a noble youth coming towards the Camp of Genutius, from the other side, both in signs and words of reproach challenged Briaro, the son of Genutius: who knowing the danger, yet seeing the haughty heart of his enemy, answered. Never shall it be said that a consuls son of Room, will suffer himself to be so scorned: and turning himself towards his foe, gave him that, which to crackers and praters is most due, in so much that he slew him. Whereat the Soldiers rejoicing, thinking to have had praise of 〈◊〉: bewrayeth the whole sum. Which when he heard, being m●●ued therewith, that his commandment was no more regarded: Go (quoth he) take him, whip him at a ●●ake, and after strike of his head. Never shall the Law of the Romans, be broken by Genutius.  
How think you Sir? he was Consul, and he both knew love, Learning and Law: yet was love preferred here before both. Therefore, you now cannot otherwise, but account this saying true. Amor vinci● omnia. For here generally Love is still Conqueror, and Learning the only Uassaile and Subject unto love.  Scholar. 
You have waded very far, in searching authorities, but sure Madam, you are yet wide of the white, your Shafts are well shot, but they light very short of the Mark: and therefore Madam, I hold it best you rather give over with indifferency, then to weary, yourself, and lose all in the end.  Lady. 
Well said Sir, I am content that I serve you vain 〈◊〉, to give you delight by my 〈◊〉, to try your wit and capacetie: and seeing you are so pleasantly disposed, have with you for company, but first, I pray you make me resolution 〈◊〉 this demand.  
Who was the wisest that 〈◊〉 was, the Learnedest that ever was, the Loovingst that ever was, the liberallest that ever was, and the strongest that ever was. Lo this is all, therefore command your wits into your counting house, and let me see how finely you can define of this Demand: it is as good for you as a Doncaster bit, therefore hem, and to it with a courage. What? faint you all ready? nay soft, you must yet sift a little farther, turn the backside of your brains once the backside of your brains once more over 〈◊〉 now man? no metuas, be not afraid.  Scholar. 
Tush Madam, these your quips I 〈…〉 delightful as your disputation, 〈◊〉 etting that pass: I now apply myself, to the answer of your demand.  
The 〈◊〉 that ever was sin●● 〈…〉 was S●llomon: for that there was no Riddle, nor Allegor 〈…〉, but by his wisdom he made 〈◊〉 ●a●e open. But yet for all his wisdom he fell from God, and was by Loo●e, made thrall to a number of vices. But why (Madam) stand we here upon? Me thinks you in●er 〈◊〉 upon necessity, because you want matter to follow your argument▪ which if you do: I shall not only 〈◊〉 in 〈◊〉 a Lady, but rejoice that by my means, your mind shall be altered from love.  Lady. 
Forward Sir, you have yet missed the mark, and gone some what down the wind: but shoot once more. Who was the Learnedest that ever was?  Scholar. 
If a man may aim 〈…〉 then were the sons of 〈◊〉, the learnedst: for knowing and 〈◊〉 the secrets and Mysteries of the Heavens, they found, that the world should be destroyed, either 〈◊〉 fire or water. And therefore to leave a memory behind them of such 〈◊〉 hidden mystery, they erected 〈…〉, the one of earth, and the 〈◊〉 of brass: in which they orderly engraved the Science of Astrology and Astronomis, thinking that if the world were consumed with fire the 〈◊〉 of Earth should yet be 〈◊〉, and if with water, than the other of Brass. So that I deem them the Learnedest, for that they were the founders of Learning.  Lady. 
All this is labour lost, well, what and who was the loovingst that ever was▪  Scholar. 
The 〈◊〉 that ever was, I déee● 〈…〉 our Saviour Christ: whose 〈◊〉 was such toward us poor sinners, that he disdained not to leave Heaven, to come and take 〈◊〉 nature here upon him on earth, 〈◊〉 so of his mercy he might make satisfaction for our sins, whose 〈◊〉 otherwise had been clean 〈◊〉 of salvation. So that I affirms his love towards us, never was, is, or shallbe the like.  Lady. 
So sir, come no more, a● that scantling I pray you, for you have hit the Clowte in the midst 〈…〉 again, who was the liberalle●● that ever was?  Scholar. 
The liberallest that ever was, was Esau, for he sold both his inheritance, and also the blessing of God, to his brother for a mess of Pottage. I never knew a more liberal gift upon so little gain. And as for the strongest that ever was: I confess that Samson was he, for that he was almost invincible, if he had not fallen in his faith.  Lady. 
Well, and is this your definition: are you content to yield it up so?  Scholar. 
Yea sure.  Lady. 
If you do, it is little to your praise▪ for that except in one point, you have failed in all. Yea, and in that too, for that all these virtues expressed, are resident with one person: and you have proved them contrary, to be dispersed. But what will you say, if I prove them all in one?  Scholar. 
I say then (Madam) that you do● very well.  Lady. 
Nay: but if I approve i● true, and like case conclude love to be Nurse to Learning. Will you ●o affirm, and cease longer to contend thereof?  Scholar. 
On that condition I will, I promise you: but if you fail to do it, how then?  Lady. 
Then will I give chief prize and praise to Learning.  Scholar. 
Well then Madam, begin at ●our pleasure.  Lady. 
The Wisest, Learnedest, Loouing●●●, Liberallest, and Strongest that ever was, is jehova, the only maker and creator of all things, who by his wisdom made the world, and in the same hath not only planted and placed all kind of creatures: but also made man, to be the only Lord of all creatures else living. So that who may compare with his wisdom? or who can comprehend a work of such wonder?  
As touching now the Learnedest that ever was, I likewise affirm that the Learning and Lesson, which he first taught our Father Abraham, was so profound, 〈◊〉 of so great importance: that all the Divines in the world, could never define the mystery thereof.  
Thirdly, you confess him to be th● Loovingst that ever was, and I mus● needs allow it. For what greater love could he show to man: then first to make him, being nothing but slime, like to his most glorious and divine Image. Secondly, when man had transgressed, and was by the Law condemned, how Loovingly sent he, according to his promise, his only son our Saviour, to pay our ransom, and to deliver us from death and damnation. What love was ever like to this? and yet this love was meant to man, before the beginning of the world.  
And now touching his liberality, what Prince in the world from the East to the West, hath power to do the like? first, he hath given us the world frankly to live in, and all the creatures therein contained, to be at our commandment: he feeds us, he clothes us, he provides us h●rbor, he hath given generally all the world, and all things therein. What can be more wished? or who ever was so liberal? lastly, the strongest that ever was, like case he is: for at his word, both Heaven and the Earth shall fail, the mountains fall, yea, and the Seas ●●ell above the tops of the same. So that our God is invincible, and his works not to be wondered at, but praised.  
And therefore Sir, now confess yourself subdued, for love here got the upper hand of Learning: how say you? can you deny this? have I not proved it both by Philosophy, and also by Divinity  Scholar. 
〈…〉 I must commend 〈…〉, for love in deed, in this 〈…〉 to Learning. For that the: same love hath no end, no● knew no beginning: And therefore it must 〈…〉 original of Learning.  Lady. 
Well, I am glad yet that one so simple as I, have confused 〈◊〉 a Scholar, I well may 〈…〉 this victory. But yet for 〈…〉 ●●e that you have done unto me, in this our long 〈◊〉▪ I will conceal the conquest to myself, upon condition that you shall count yourself conquered. For I would not ingratefully requite you, in consideration, that the cause of this long conference was only through my mean: and therefore Sir, take it in good part I ●ray you, that I seemed so homely with you, for I honour the Learned ●nd love them as my life.  Scholar. 
〈◊〉▪ if aught in me yet 〈◊〉, hath brought liking to your honour: I am glad you fo●nde me here so luckily: And as for your conquest, of troth I must confess you have 〈…〉 it: and therefore by desert, you may best make boast thereof. But if hereafter, when opportunity shall permit, it be 〈…〉 to use the like: I rest at your command in any thing I 〈…〉.  Lady. 
Sir▪ 〈…〉 you, and for that I see 〈…〉 ●●●teth, I leave you to your fo●mer exercise: in hope hereafter you will not inveigh against love. And thus good Sir far you well, when I have the like occasion: I will not make dainty in 〈◊〉 of your company.  Scholar. 
Nor I (Madam) 〈◊〉 strange, in performing your 〈◊〉.  
〈…〉  
FINIS. A. M.