King Lear, betrayed by two of his three daughters after he abdicated in their favor, and believing himself betrayed by the third, Cordelia, is in turmoil. He is wandering about outside, exposed to the elements in the midst of a thunderstorm. Nature’s violence strikes a chord within him. His servant implores him to take refuge in a summer home on Martha’s Vineyard; no, that’s not right, in a hovel occupied by the homeless.

Our present-day homeless are the refugee Venezuelans who were brought to this heavenly island on a flight from Florida, who are forced off the island by its plutocrat inhabitants. Perhaps they will be allowed to share a hovel with Lear and the pre-existing homeless in some poorer parts of the country.

In the meantime, here is Lear’s prayer for the poor. Even in his distress and dispossession, he recognizes their shared humanity. His prayer is a rather different one from the one being offered by the plutocrats of Massachusetts (which is to be rid of these indigents trailing disease and bad publicity):

Lear: “Poor naked wretches, whereso’er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
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.”