Well, well, be it so, thou strongest their of all,
For thou hast stolen my will, and made it read more

Well, well, be it so, thou strongest their of all,
For thou hast stolen my will, and made it thine.

Do villainy, do, since you protest to do't,
Like workmen. I'll example you with thievery:
The sun's read more

Do villainy, do, since you protest to do't,
Like workmen. I'll example you with thievery:
The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction
Robs the vast sea; the moon's an arrant thief,
And her pale fire she snatches from the sun;
The sea's a thief, whose liquid surges resolves
The moon into salt tears; the earth's a thief,
That feeds and breeds by a composture stol'n
From gen'ral excrement.

Yet thanks I must you con
That you are thieves professed, that you work not
In holier read more

Yet thanks I must you con
That you are thieves professed, that you work not
In holier shapes; for there is boundless theft
In limited professions.

Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself
Are much condemned to have an itching palm,
To sell read more

Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself
Are much condemned to have an itching palm,
To sell and mart your offices for gold
To undeservers.

Stolen sweets are best.

Stolen sweets are best.

The Frier preached against stealing, and had a goose in his
sleeve.
[The Friar preached against stealing, and read more

The Frier preached against stealing, and had a goose in his
sleeve.
[The Friar preached against stealing, and had a goose in his
sleeve.]

Stolen sweets are always sweeter:
Stolen kisses much completer;
Stolen looks are nice in chapels:
read more

Stolen sweets are always sweeter:
Stolen kisses much completer;
Stolen looks are nice in chapels:
Stolen, stolen be your apples.

Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing.
'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands;
read more

Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing.
'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands;
But he that filches from me my good name
Robs me of that which not enriches him
And makes me poor indeed.

Who steals a bugle-horn, a ring, a steed,
Or such like worthless thing, has some discretion;
'Tis read more

Who steals a bugle-horn, a ring, a steed,
Or such like worthless thing, has some discretion;
'Tis petty larceny: not such his deed
Who robs us of our fame, our best possession.