Stolen sweets are best.

Stolen sweets are best.

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.

'Tis bad enough in man or woman
To steal a goose from off a common;
But surely read more

'Tis bad enough in man or woman
To steal a goose from off a common;
But surely he's without excuse
Who steals a common from the goose.

--To live
On means not yours--be brave in silks and laces,
Gallant in steeds; splendid in banquets; read more

--To live
On means not yours--be brave in silks and laces,
Gallant in steeds; splendid in banquets; all
Not yours. Given, uninherited, unpaid for;
This is to be a trickster; and to filch
Men's art and labour, which to them is wealth,
Life, daily bread;--quitting all scores with "friend,
You're troublesome!" Why this, forgive me,
Is what, when done with a less dainty grace,
Plain folks call "Theft."

In vain we call old notions fudge
And bend our conscience to our dealing.
The Ten Commandments read more

In vain we call old notions fudge
And bend our conscience to our dealing.
The Ten Commandments will not budge
And stealing will continue stealing.

For she sitteth at the door of her house, on a seat in the high
places of the city,
read more

For she sitteth at the door of her house, on a seat in the high
places of the city,
To call passengers who go right on their ways:
Whoso is simple, let him turn in hither: and as for him that
wanteth understanding, she saith to him,
Stolen waters are sweet, and bread eaten in secret is pleasant.

To keep my hands from picking and stealing.

To keep my hands from picking and stealing.

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.

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.