Here is co[n]teyned the lyfe of Iohan Picus erle of Myrandula a grete lorde of Italy an excellent connynge man in all sciences, [and] verteous of lyuynge with dyuers epystles [and] other werkes of ye sayd Iohan Picus full of grete science vertue [and] wysedome, whose lyfe [and] werkes bene worthy [and] dygne to be redde and often to be had in memorye.

¶A prayer of Picus Mirandula vnto god

O holy god of dredefull magestee Uerely one in .iij. and thre in one Whom aungelles serue whose werk all creatures be Whiche heuen and erth directest all alone We the beseche good lorde with wofull mone Spare vs wretches & wasshe away our gylt That we be not by thy iust angre spylt

In stray•• balance of rygorous iudgement If thou sholdest our synne pondre and wey Who able were to bere thy punysshment The hole engyne of all this worlde I saye The engyne that enduren shall for aye With suche examynacyon myght not stande Space of a moment in thyne angry hande

Who is not borne in synne originall Who doth actuall synne in sondry wyse But thou good lorde arte he that sparest all With pyteouse mercy temperynge iustyce For as thou doest rewardes vs deuyce Aboue our meryte / so doest thou dispence Thy punysshement farre vndre our offence

More is thy mercy farre then all our synne To gyue them also that vnworthy be More godly is and more mercy therin Howbehit: worthy Inough are they perdee Be they neuer so vnworthy: whom that he Lyst to accept where so euer he taketh Whom he vnworthy fyndeth worthy maketh

Wherfore good lorde that aye mercyfull arte Unto thy grace and souerayne dygnyte We sely wretches crye with humble herte Oure synnes forget and our malygnite With pyteous eyes of thy benygnyte Frendly loke on vs ones thyne owne Seruaūtes or synners whether hit lyketh the

Synners yf thou our cryme beholde certayne Our cryme the warke of our vncorteyse mynde But yf thy gyftes thou beholde agayne Thy gyftes noble wonderfull and kynde Thou shalte vs then the same persones fynde Which are to the and haue be longe space Seruauntes by nature chyldren by thy grace

But this thy goodnes wryngeth vs alas For we whom grace had made thy chyldren dere Are made thy gylty folke by our trespace Synne hath vs gylty made this many a yere But let thy grace / thy grace that hath no pere Of our offence surmounten all the preace That in our synne thyne honour may encreace

For though thy wisdom / though thy souerayn powre May other wyse appere suffycyently As thynges whiche thy creatures euery houre All with one voyce declare and testyfye Thy goodnes: yet thy synguler mercy Thy pyteous herte thy garcyous indulgence Nothynge so clerely sheweth as our offence

What but our synne hath shewed that myghty loue: Whiche able was thy dredfull magestee To drawe downe in to erth fro heuen aboue And crucyfye god / that we poore wretches we Sholde from our fylthy synne I clensed be With blode and water of thyne owne syde That stremed from thy blyssed woundes wyde

Thy loue and pyte thus o heuenly kynge Our euyll maketh: mater of thy goodnes O loue o pyte our welth ay prouydynge O goodnes seruyng thy seruauntes in distres O loue o pyte well nygh now thankles O goodnes myghty gracyous and wyse And yet almost now vaynquysshed with our vyce

Graunt I the praye suche hete in to myne herte That to this loue of thyne may be egall Graunt me fro sathanas seruyce to astert With whom me rueth so longe to be thrall Graunt me good lorde and creatour of all The flame to quenche of all synfull desyre And in thy loue set all myne herte a fyre

That whan the iournay of this deedly lyfe My sely goost hath fynysshed and thense Departen must: without his flesshly wyfe Alone in to his lordes hygh presence He may the fynde: o well of indulgence In thy lordeshyp not as a lorde: but rather As a very tendre louynge father.

Amen.