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.

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.

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.

To keep my hands from picking and stealing.

To keep my hands from picking and stealing.

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.

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.

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

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

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.