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.

The robbed that smiles steals something from the thief,
He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.

The robbed that smiles steals something from the thief,
He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.

To keep my hands from picking and stealing.

To keep my hands from picking and stealing.

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.

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.

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.]

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.

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.

A murderer and a villain,
A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe
Of your precedent read more

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--