Storm still. Enter KENT and a Gentleman, meeting.
KENT: Who's there, besides foul weather?
Gentleman: One minded like the weather, most unquietly.
KENT: I know you. Where's the king?
Gentleman: Contending with the fretful element:
Bids the winds blow the earth into the sea, 
Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main,
That things might change or cease; tears his white hair,
Which the impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage,
Catch in their fury, and make nothing of;
Strives in his little world of man to out-scorn 
The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain.
This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear would couch,
The lion and the belly-pinched wolf
Keep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs,
And bids what will take all.