A review by briancrandall
Measure for Measure by William Shakespeare

4.0

Isabella
Could great men thunder
As Jove himself does, Jove would never be quiet,
For every pelting, petty officer
Would use his heaven for thunder,
Nothing but thunder. Merciful heaven,
Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt
Splits the unwedgeable and gnarlèd oak
Than the soft myrtle; but man, proud man,
Dressed in a little brief authority,
Most ignorant of what he's most assured —
His glassy essence — like an angry ape
Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven
As makes the angels weep; who, with our spleens, Would all themselves laugh mortal. [II,ii]