Sinopsis

Zan. Whether first nature, or long want of peace,
Has wrought my mind to this, I cannot tell;
But horrors now are not displeasing to me:[thunder.
I like this rocking of the battlements.
Rage on, ye winds; burst, clouds; and, waters, roar!
You bear a just resemblance of my fortune,
And suit the gloomy habit of my soul.