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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.
A plague upon it when thieves cannot be true one to another!
A plague upon it when thieves cannot be true one to another!
Kill a man's family, and he may brook it,
But keep your hands out of his breeches' pocket.
Kill a man's family, and he may brook it,
But keep your hands out of his breeches' pocket.
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.
No Indian prince has to his palace
More followers than a thief to the gallows.
No Indian prince has to his palace
More followers than a thief to the gallows.
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.
O villain, thou hast stol'n both mine office and my name!
The one ne'er got me credit, the other read more
O villain, thou hast stol'n both mine office and my name!
The one ne'er got me credit, the other mickle blame.
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.
