Second Servingman: Why, then we shall have a stirring world
again. This peace is nothing but to rust iron, increase tailors, and
breed ballad-makers.
First Servingman: Let me have war, say I. It exceeds peace as
far as day does night. It's sprinhtly, waking, audible, and full of
vent. Peace is a very apoplexy, lethargy; mulled, deaf, sleepy, insensible;
a great getter of more bastard children than war's a destroyer of men.
Second Servingman: 'Tis so; and as war, in some sort, may be
said to be a ravisher, so it cannot be denied but peace is a great maker
of cuckolds.
First Servingman: Ay, and it makes men hate one another.
Third Servingman: Reason: because they then less need one another.
The wars for my money.
Shakespeare's Coriolanus
