Timonobama of Athens!

"Rascal thieves,

Here’s gold. Go, suck the subtle blood o’the grape

’Til the high fever seethe your blood to froth,

And so ’scape hanging: trust not the physician,

His antidotes are poison, and he slays

More than you rob: take wealth and lives together;

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 surge resolves

The moon into salt tears: the earth’s a thief,

That feeds and breeds by a composure stolen

From general excrement: each thing’s a thief:

The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power

Have unchecked theft, Love not yourselves; away,

Rob one another — there’s more gold — cut throats;

All that you meet are thieves. To Athens go,

Break open shops; nothing can you steal

But thieves do lose it: steal not less for this

I give you; and gold confound you howso’er! Amen. — Act IV, Scene 3