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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.
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.]
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.
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.
Never thrust your own sickle into another's corn.
Never thrust your own sickle into another's corn.
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.
A plague upon it when thieves cannot be true one to another!
A plague upon it when thieves cannot be true one to another!
For she sitteth at the door of her house, on a seat in the high
places of the city,
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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.
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.
