Rumble thy bellyful! Spit, fire! spout, rain!
Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire are my daughters.
I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness.
I never gave you kingdom, called you children,
You owe me no subscription. Then let fall
Your horrible pleasure. Here I stand your slave,
A poor, infirm, weak, and despised old man.
But yet I call you servile ministers,
That will with two pernicious daughters join
Your high-engendered battles ‘gainst a head
So old and white as this. O, ho, ’tis foul!

– William Shakespeare

King Lear, Act 3, Scene 2. In the middle of the storm on the heath, Lear rages against daughters Regan and Goneril who have turned him out of their homes. Seeing himself a victim of injustice, he accuses the storm of joining forces with his two wicked daughters to strike his old white head. The storm serves as a metaphor for Lear’s inner turmoil and mounting madness over his daughters’ unkindness. In this passage we also see him becoming aware of his powerlessness, as he first shouts orders to nature and then realizes that he has no power over the elements. He invites the storm to do its worst to him and "let fall Your horrible pleasure." Wallowing in self-pity but indicating that he has begun to acquire true self-knowledge, he describes himself as a "slave" and "poor" and a "despised old man."