Shakespeare was definitely writing about other things besides nuclear disasters, so it is a bit dubious to put his words in another context like this, but I do it to underscore the power of his language. The extraordinary nature of a nuclear disaster requires extraordinary powers of expression, and Shakespeare's words seem to fill this need.
The valiant never taste of death but once.
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Something wicked this way comes.
Fukushima Daiichi, Reactor 3 explodes on March 14, 2011 (off by a day, but damn close):
Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt
Splits the unwedgeable and gnarlèd oak
Than the soft myrtle; but man, proud man,
Dress'd in a little brief authority,
Most ignorant of what he's most assur'd—
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.
And trust no agent
Where most it promises; and oft it hits
Where hope is coldest, and despair most fits.
(And by that destiny) to perform an act
Whereof what's past is prologue; what to come,
In yours and my discharge.
Should be past grief.
With them they think on? Things without all remedy
Should be without regard: what's done, is done.
Ill blows the wind that profits nobody.
Henry VI, Part 3, Act 2, Scene 5
Brief as the lightning in the collied night,
That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth;
And ere a man hath power to say "Behold!"
The jaws of darkness do devour it up:
So quick bright things come to confusion.