Poor Naked Wretches, Wheresoe'er You Are, That Bide The Pelting Of This Pitiless Storm

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Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'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?
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), King Lear
-- Act iii, Sc. 4