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.

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.

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.

Stolen sweets are best.

Stolen sweets are best.

He that is robbed, not wanting what is stol'n,
Let him not know't, and he's not robbed at all.

He that is robbed, not wanting what is stol'n,
Let him not know't, and he's not robbed at all.

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.

'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.

A plague upon it when thieves cannot be true one to another!

A plague upon it when thieves cannot be true one to another!

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.