In The Merchant of Venice, Lorenzo treats us to a perfect description of how the sound of God sleeps within, unheard, until we chant the sacred name that kisses it awake.
Such harmony is in immortal souls,
But whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.
Come, ho! and wake Diana with a hymn.
With sweetest touches pierce your mistress’ ear,
And draw her home with music.
The Merchant of Venice, Act V Scene I
’Has had most favourable and happy speed!
Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling winds,
The guttered rocks and congregated sands
(Traitors ensteeped to clog the guiltless keel),
As having sense of beauty, do omit
Their mortal natures, letting go safely by
The divine Desdemona.
Othello, Act II Scene I
King Lear famously rails against the religions, blasting them with God’s fury and alluding to the coming of the comforter (in tongues of fire on his head, Acts 2:2).
Blow winds, and crack your cheeks! Rage, blow!
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drenched our steeples, drowned the cocks.
You sulph’rous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers of oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
Singe my white head. And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Strike flat the thick rotundity o’ th’ world.
Crack nature’s molds, all germens spill at once
That makes ingrateful man.
King Lear, Act III Scene II
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