But woe unto you Kings! woe to you Princes!
’Tis fifty and four, now Antichrist, so saies
My book, must reign three daies, and three half daies,
Why that is three years and a half beloved.
Or else as many precious men have proved
One thousand two hundred and threescore daies,
Why now the time’s almost expir’d, time staies
For no man; friends then Antichrist shall fall,
Then down with Rome, with Babel, down with all,
Down with the Devil, the Pope, the Emperour,