unwedgeable

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 .