Though peace be made, yet it's interest that keep peace.

O for a lodge in some vast wilderness, Some boundless contiguity of shade; Where rumor of oppression and deceit, Of unsuccessful or successful war, Might never reach me more.

All zeal for a reform, that gives offenceTo peace and charity, is mere pretence.

Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast,
Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round,
And, while the bubbling and loud hissing urn
Throws up a steamy column and the cups
That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each,
So let us welcome peaceful ev'ning in.

Spare feast! a radish and an egg.

I was a stricken deer, that left the herd / Long since.