it's good to be king...

     The winter around these parts remains pitilessly cold. With that in mind, give a listen to this, from King Lear. At the last, Lear begins to discern the truth of kingship:

Poor naked wretches, whereso'er you are,

That bide the pelting of this pitiless night,

How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides,

Your looped and windowed raggedness, defend you

From seasons such as these? O, I have ta'en

Too little care of this. Take physic, pomp,

Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,

That thou mayst shake the superflux to them

And show the heavens more just (III.4, Quarto).