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.

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.

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

A murderer and a villain, A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe Of your precedent lord, a vice of kings, A cutpurse of the empire and the rule, That from a shelf the precious diadem stole And put it in his pocket--

O villain, thou hast stol'n both mine office and my name! The one ne'er got me credit, the other mickle blame.

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