Faith, Lady, causes strong enough, High walls, bard dores, and guards of armed men.

No, Leidenberch: The narrowest dore of death I would work through first Ere I turne Slave to stick their gawdy triumphes.

It is the common passe, the sacred dore, Unto the prive chamber of the soule; That bar'd, nought passeth past the baser court.