When faith is kneeling by his bed of death, And innocence is closing up his eyes, Now if thou wouldst, when all have given him over, From death to life thou mightst him yet recover.
Note 3. Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just, And he but naked, though locked up in steel, Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted. William Shakespeare: Henry VI. act iii. sc. 2. [back]