[Keplar]
All heavens dressed in black, and the church is not of help here

[Wallenstein]
Yet, comets importing change of time and state, as the poet says

[Keplar]
Fiery demons in the sky, they are, or angels
That's hard to judge
Like pilgrims in the skies, they roam and lurk with sparkling, rough lies
Not long, they will descend, and along with them the scourge of angry
Bad, revolting stars
These signs are evil
Not conquest, but famine, then war, and finally death

Astrology
The highest science of all
It is a mirror of what's to come
But since the planets cannot command, will they inspire me, at least?

[Keplar]
Your constellation's promising, although we all will mourn in blood