For see, the dapple-grey coursers of the morn Beat up the light with their bright silver hoofs, And chase it through the sky. - John Marston

Sing of the nature of women, and then the song shall be surely full of variety; old crotchets and most sweet closes. It shall be humorous, grave, fantastic, amorous, melancholy, sprightly, one in all, and all in one.

Speak, speak, let terror strike slaves mute,
Much danger makes great hearts most resolute.

Marston is a writer of great merit, who rose to tragedy from the ground of comedy, and whose forte was not sympathy, either with the stronger or softer emotions, but an impatient scorn and bitter indignation against the vices and follies of men, which vented itself either in comic irony or in lofty invective. He was properly a satirist.