Scene III Act II
Blow, winds! Blow until your cheeks crack! Rage on, blow! Let tornadoes spew water until the steeples of our churches and the weathervanes are all drowned. Let quick sulfurous lightning, strong enough to split enormous trees, singe the white hair on my head. Let thunder flatten the spherical world, crack open all the molds from which nature forms human beings, and spill all the seeds from which ungrateful humans grow!
Let thunder rumble! Let lightning spit fire! Let the rain spray! The rain, the wind, the thunder and lightning are not my daughters. Nature, I don’t accuse your weather of unkindness. I never gave you a kingdom or raised you as my child, and you don’t owe me any obedience. So go ahead and have your terrifying fun. Here I am, your slave—a poor, sick, weak, hated old man. But I can still accuse you of kowtowing, taking my daughters' side against me, ancient as I am. Oh, it’s foul!
Our Hero Mayor Bill de Blasio in "Lear-like" bewilderment faces the Great Storm that assaults the Emerald City! He uses all the might he can muster from his host of civil servants.
His City will Not be laid low by the g-ds of the Four Winds. He will Battle them to the End!