As Jove himself does, Jove would [ne’er] be quiet,
For every pelting, petty officer
[Would] use his heaven for thunder.
Nothing but thunder! Merciful [Heaven],
115 Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt
[Split’st] the unwedgeable and gnarled oak
Than the soft myrtle: [but] man, [proud] man,
Drest in a little brief authority,
Most ignorant of what he’s most assured,
120 His [glassy] essence, like an angry ape,