Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just,
And he but naked, though locked up in steel,
Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.
Shakespeare: Henry VI. act iii. sc. 2.
[40:4] The same in Shakespeare's As You Like It. Compare Chapman, page 35.
To shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sings madrigals;
There will we make our peds of roses,