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5. The wise Richard Hooker sees this inborn sameness of men as so straightforward and {{over|unhinderable|unquestionable}} that he {{over|grounds|bases}} on it men's {{over|binding|obligation}} to love one another, on which he builds their {{over|owings|duties}} toward each other, from which in turn he brings forth the great {{over|overforthputs|maxims}} of rightfulness and goodwill. Here are his words:
 
5. The wise Richard Hooker sees this inborn sameness of men as so straightforward and {{over|unhinderable|unquestionable}} that he {{over|grounds|bases}} on it men's {{over|binding|obligation}} to love one another, on which he builds their {{over|owings|duties}} toward each other, from which in turn he brings forth the great {{over|overforthputs|maxims}} of rightfulness and goodwill. Here are his words:
   
: An alike inborn {{over|enkindling|inducement}} has led men to {{over|beaughten|realize}} that they have as much {{over|owing|duty}} to love others as to love themselves. Things that are the same must be meted by one standard; so if I {{over|unformithably|inevitably}} want to get some good - indeed as much good from every man as any man can want for himself - how could I foresee having any bit of my wants that other men, being all of the same birth, {{over|must|are bound to}} have?
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: An alike inborn {{over|enkindling|inducement}} has led men to {{over|beaughten|realize}} that they have as much {{over|owing|duty}} to love others as to love themselves. Things that are the same must be meted by one standard; so if I {{over|unformithely|inevitably}} want to get some good - indeed as much good from every man as any man can want for himself - how could I foresee having any bit of my wants that other men, being all of the same birth, {{over|must|are bound to}} have?
   
 
To offer them anything {{over|unevenhearted|inconsistent}} with their want will be to burden them as much as it would burden me; so that if I do harm I must foresee {{over|tholing|suffering}}, as there is no grounds why others should show more love to me than I have shown to them. Thus, my want to be loved as much as {{over|mayly|possible}} by my {{over|kindly|natural}} peers gives me an inborn {{over|owing|duty}} to do unto them with the same love. Everyone knows the guidelines and standards inborn {{over|wisdom|reason}} has laid down for the guidance of our lives on the grounds of this {{over|maythhood|relation}} of sameness between ourselves and those who are like us.
 
To offer them anything {{over|unevenhearted|inconsistent}} with their want will be to burden them as much as it would burden me; so that if I do harm I must foresee {{over|tholing|suffering}}, as there is no grounds why others should show more love to me than I have shown to them. Thus, my want to be loved as much as {{over|mayly|possible}} by my {{over|kindly|natural}} peers gives me an inborn {{over|owing|duty}} to do unto them with the same love. Everyone knows the guidelines and standards inborn {{over|wisdom|reason}} has laid down for the guidance of our lives on the grounds of this {{over|maythhood|relation}} of sameness between ourselves and those who are like us.
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The {{over|behightings|promises}} and deals {{over|inheld|involved}} in {{over|trading|bartering}} between two men on an {{over|eyot wasteland|desert island}}, ... or between a Swiss and an Indian in the woods of Americksland, are binding on them even though they are {{over|flawlessly|perfectly}} in an {{over|ordstead|state of nature}} {{over|foreholding|in relation to}} one another; for truth and {{over|oath|promise}}-keeping belongs to men as men, not as {{over|belongers to|members of}} a {{over|fellowship|society}} - that is, as an {{over|inting|matter}} of {{over|ordlaw|natural law}}, not {{over|forthput|positive}} law.
 
The {{over|behightings|promises}} and deals {{over|inheld|involved}} in {{over|trading|bartering}} between two men on an {{over|eyot wasteland|desert island}}, ... or between a Swiss and an Indian in the woods of Americksland, are binding on them even though they are {{over|flawlessly|perfectly}} in an {{over|ordstead|state of nature}} {{over|foreholding|in relation to}} one another; for truth and {{over|oath|promise}}-keeping belongs to men as men, not as {{over|belongers to|members of}} a {{over|fellowship|society}} - that is, as an {{over|inting|matter}} of {{over|ordlaw|natural law}}, not {{over|forthput|positive}} law.
   
15. To those who {{over|gainsay|deny}} that anyone was ever in the {{over|ordstead|state of nature}}, I {{over|gainstand|oppose}} the right of the wise Hooker, who writes:
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15. Against those who {{over|gainsay|deny}} that anyone was ever in the {{over|ordstead|state of nature}}, I set the right of the wise Hooker, who writes:
   
 
: The {{over|ordlaw|laws ... of nature}} binds men {{over|utterly|absolutely}}, only as men, even if they have no settled fellowship, no {{over|earnest|solemn}} {{over|thwaring|agreement}} among themselves about what to do and what not to do. What {{over|firstly|naturally}} leads us to seek {{over|onehood|communion}} and fellowship with other men is the truth that on our own we haven't the means to {{over|beheft|provide}} ourselves with a {{over|befitting|adequate}} stock of things that we need for the kind of life our {{over|beginning|nature}} wants, a life fit for the worth of man. It was to make up for those flaws and {{over|unwholenesses|imperfections}} of the lonely life that men first {{over|gathered|united}} themselves in {{over|burgherly fellowships|civil societies}}. (The Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity [The Laws of Lordsgatheringish Borroughs], book 1, {{over|cleaving|section}} 10)
 
: The {{over|ordlaw|laws ... of nature}} binds men {{over|utterly|absolutely}}, only as men, even if they have no settled fellowship, no {{over|earnest|solemn}} {{over|thwaring|agreement}} among themselves about what to do and what not to do. What {{over|firstly|naturally}} leads us to seek {{over|onehood|communion}} and fellowship with other men is the truth that on our own we haven't the means to {{over|beheft|provide}} ourselves with a {{over|befitting|adequate}} stock of things that we need for the kind of life our {{over|beginning|nature}} wants, a life fit for the worth of man. It was to make up for those flaws and {{over|unwholenesses|imperfections}} of the lonely life that men first {{over|gathered|united}} themselves in {{over|burgherly fellowships|civil societies}}. (The Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity [The Laws of Lordsgatheringish Borroughs], book 1, {{over|cleaving|section}} 10)
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|'''inevitable'''
 
|'''inevitable'''
 
|''adj''
 
|''adj''
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|unformithely*
|unformithable*
 
|(from un + "avoidable", cf. NHG vermeidbar)
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|(from "unavoidable", cf. NHG unvermeidlich)
 
|-
 
|-
 
|'''innocent'''
 
|'''innocent'''

Revision as of 19:04, 30 October 2017

Here inheld are the first five headings of John Locke's Latter Offhandling of Redeship, twoth of two offhandlings.

Oversetter's Markup

In this oversetting into Anglish, several words are brooked instead of "nature" and its forthbrought shapings, such as "natural". The word "nature" comes from the Latinish word for "birth", so in all befallings where mayly, a shape of the root word "birth" is brooked, for byspell, "inborn" for "natural". In many befallings, the brooking of these words becomes unseemly. In some of these, the feeling called forth by the brooking of "nature" is that of the "beginning" of the thing, a suchness the thing has from its beginning for the sake of the kind of being it is. In others, the feeling is that of the wight- and wortlife and the goings on of the world selfstanding outside of the body and work of mankind itself. This sense is overset "the earth".

Lastly, in one shedded befalling, Locke brooks the name, "state of nature". In the same way, he also later brooks "law of nature" and "state of war". For this first cwide, these two words together make for a shedded hardship in coining an Anglish match. There has been much mooting over the seemly way to overset "state". In the befalling of the wordstring "state of nature", it is not so much an inting of the body of men and lawframed setups of the redeship, but of the stead in which one stands, or the shape and suchness of a thing as it is now. For this sake, this onsetting brooks the word "stead" for "state" in this befalling.

As for "nature", in this befalling, the brooking of the words chosen thus far – namely, some shaping of "birth" or "beginning" seemed to miss the mark or to be besunder unwieldy together with "stead". To say that one is in a "birthstead" seems to mean that they are as a bairn, sackless and helpless. This is not the meaning of Locke's "state of nature", which is as said before, the shape and suchness of a thing as it is "in nature" or from its swith beginning until now with no inbreaching from a befouling inflood or staddling of an draught to frame a new shared redeship beyond the "law of nature".

For this sake, another word more streamlined and pithy than the unwieldy "beginning" is brooked, namely "ord". "Ord" comes from Old English and bears the meaning of the foremost bit of a spear, but also the beginning or the wellspring. Together, these words build the onsetting brooked herein: "ordstead". The same way of wordbuilding is then brooked for "law of nature" and "state of war", which are onset, "ordlaw" and "warstead", beteeingwise.

In many befallings, the wellspring of Locke's ordspringly English writing inholds foreshortening and markup from the bydrafter, which are herein marked slantwise. Unless otherwise outfoldly written, the slantwise writings are the work of the first bydrafter; however, in some befallings, further markup is eked to unfold Anglish oversettings or other insights left unsaid before. The writership of this further markup should be wis to the reader as a deal of the Anglishmoot.

At the end of this leaf writ is a wordlist spreadsheet that spells out the reasoning behind each new word brooked in this writ.

Foreword to the two Dightings

Reader, you have here the beginning and the end of a twofold dightings about redeship. It isn't worthwhile to go into what happened to the leaves that should have come in between (they were more than half the work).

The missing leaves, that were to have been inheld in the Latter Dighting, that is the next bit of the twofold offhandling, were onefoldly lost. They inheld a lengthy onslaught on Sir Robert Filmer's Patriarcha [Highfatherdom], an upholding of the godly right of kings, forthsent in 1680 (Filmer had died in 1653). The lost leaves seemingly overlapped the onslaught on the same mark that filled Locke's First Offhandling of Redeship and also take up a good deal of room in the Latter.

These bliving leaves, I hope, are enough to staddle the seat of our great edstower, our King William, to indow his cweath to the seat on the grounds of the leave of the folk, which is the only lawful grounds for redeship, and which he holds more fully and sharply than any other reder in the Christfollowing world; and to indow to the world the folk of England, whose love of their fair and inborn rights, and their will to keep them, spared this thede when it was on the brink of thralldom and downfall under King James II.

If these leaves are as wenning as I flatter myself that they are, the missing leaves will be no great loss, and my reader can be fulfilled without them. I truly hope so, as I don't foresee having either the time or the yearning to go to such lengths again, filling up the gap in my answer by again following Sir Robert Filmer through all the windings and thesterings of his amazing layout.

The king and the thede as a whole have since so thoroughly belied his undersetting that I don't think anyone ever again will be bold enough to speak up against our shared soundness, and be a spokesman for thralldom, or weak enough to be misled by nonsense clothed in handsome speech. If you bother to tackle the bits of Sir Robert's cwidings that are not dealt with here, stripping off the blossom of twiminded sayings and trying to turn his words into straightforward, forthput, understandable forsickerings, and if you then aliken these forthputs with one another, you will soon be fulfilled that there was never so much glib nonsense put together in keen-sounding English.

If you don't think it worthwhile to look through all his work, only try the bit where he betalks overthrowing, and see whether all your skill is enough to make Sir Robert fathomful and evenhearted with himself and with mean wisdom. I wouldn't speak so flatly of an athelman who is no longer in a fettle to answer, if it weren't that in tidely years preachers have been faying his teaching and making it the meanlief of our times...

I wouldn't have written against Sir Robert, working to show his mistakes, frotherings, and lack of the Christbooksome witness that he boasts of having as his only groundwork, if there weren't men among us who, by herrying his books and dowing his teaching, rid me of the burden of writing only against a dead foe.

They have been so earnest about this that if I have done him any wrong, I can't hope they will show me any milts. I wish that where they have done wrong to the truth and to the folk, they would be as ready to right it as I am to acknowledge mistakes witnessed against me, and that they would give ought weight to the thought that the greatest harm one can do to the king and the folk is to spread wrong thoughts about redeship.

If they did, it might forever put an end to our having grounds to rake of thunderings from the flatscape! If anyone who is truly careful about truth tries to belie my undersetting, I behet him either to acknowledge any mistake he fairly befinds me of or to answer his struggles. But he must edcall two things: that picking holes in my cwiding - gainstanding this wording or that little happening - is not the same as answering my book; that I shan't let a scolding stand for a reckoning.

Latter Offhandling

Heading 1

1. In my First Offhandling of Redeship, I showed these four things:

  1. That Adam did not have, whether by inborn right as a father or through an forthput gift from God, any such right over his children or over the world as has been called out.
  2. That even if he had, his jerfes would not have the same right.
  3. That if the right were to be bequoth to his jerfes, it would be unsettled who were his jerfes, as there is no ordlaw or forthput law of God that settles this asking in every mayly befalling; so it wouldn't be settled who erved the right and thus was named to rede.
  4. Even if all that had been outlookwisely settled, it would be brookless in deed: the knowledge of the line of jerfes running back to Adam has been utterly lost, so that nobody in all the strains of mankind and families of the world would have the slightest calling to have that forethought right of erveship.

All these forehegdings having, as I think, been sharply begrounded, no reders now on earth can bring forth the slightest shadow of right from the underset wellspring of all of mankind's mootish might, Adam's own lordship and fatherly rede.

So if you don't want to give grounds to think that all redeship in the world is the ware only of might and wald, and men live together only by the same guidelines as the lower wights, where strength settles every bickering, and so lay a groundwork for everlasting strife and harm, unruliness, uproar and uprising (things that the followers of that might and wald undersetting so loudly cry out against), you will have to find another reckoning of the beginnings of redeship, another wellspring for mootish might, and another way of settling who the folk are who ought to have it - other, that is, than what Sir Robert Filmer has taught us.

Locke uses the word "positive" in cleaving one and again in 13 and elsewhere. "Positive" is a craftly word. A "positive" law is one that some lawmaker uplays; it comes from the choosing of some lawmaking right. The undershed is with an ordlaw, which isn't laid down by anyone but onefoldly arises out of the beginnings of things. So a "positive" gift from God would be onefoldly a gift as wontly understood; Locke throws in "positive", seemingly as even an inborn right that Adam had would in a way be a gift from God, as God gave Adam his beginning; but it wouldn't be a "positive" gift, arising from an outfold gift-giving deed on God's behalf. Likewise with the thought on a "positive" law of God's.

In this oversetting into Anglish, "forthput" is brooked for this kind of "positive", as "to posit" means "to put forth."

2. For this goal, I think it may be worthwhile to say what I think mootish might is; so that the might of a redeship steward over an undertan can be undershed from that of a father over his children, a reeve over his shalk, a were over his wife, and a lord over his thrall. As it sometimes happens that one man has all these sundry dows, we can get sharper about how the dows undershed by looking at the sundry maythhoods in which the man stands: as a reder of a meanwealth, father of a family, and shipper of an oarship.

3. So: I take mootish might to be a right to make laws - with the death strafe and forfollowingly all lesser strafes - for steadying and upholding ownership, and to hire the strength of the meanship in helmstanding such laws and shielding the meanwealth from outside onslaught; all this being only for the shared good.

Heading 2: The Ordstead

4. To understand mootish might rightly and bring it forth from its true wellspring, we must bethink what stead all men are born in. In this stead men are flawlessly free to set their deeds, and deal out their belongings and themselves, in any way they like, without asking anyone's leave - under only the borders set by the ordlaw.

It is also a stead of sameness, in which no one has more dow and right than anyone else; as it is onefoldly straightforward that makings of the same kind and stead, all born to the same foredealings of birth and to the brooking of the same skills, should also be the same in other ways, with no one being underthrown or set below anyone else unless God, the lord and reeve of them all, were to bode sharply and outfoldly his wish that some one man be raised above the others and given an untwiminded right to overall lordship.

5. The wise Richard Hooker sees this inborn sameness of men as so straightforward and unhinderable that he grounds on it men's binding to love one another, on which he builds their owings toward each other, from which in turn he brings forth the great overforthputs of rightfulness and goodwill. Here are his words:

An alike inborn enkindling has led men to beaughten that they have as much owing to love others as to love themselves. Things that are the same must be meted by one standard; so if I unformithely want to get some good - indeed as much good from every man as any man can want for himself - how could I foresee having any bit of my wants that other men, being all of the same birth, must have?

To offer them anything unevenhearted with their want will be to burden them as much as it would burden me; so that if I do harm I must foresee tholing, as there is no grounds why others should show more love to me than I have shown to them. Thus, my want to be loved as much as mayly by my kindly peers gives me an inborn owing to do unto them with the same love. Everyone knows the guidelines and standards inborn wisdom has laid down for the guidance of our lives on the grounds of this maythhood of sameness between ourselves and those who are like us.

6. But though this is a stead of freedom, it isn't a stead of leave in which there are no borders on how men behave. A man in that stead is wholly free to deal out himself or his belongings, but he isn't free to unmake himself, or even to unmake any made thing in his ownership unless something more athel than its mere forlasting is at stake. The ordstead is reded by a law that makes bonds for everyone. And wisdom, which is that law, teaches anyone who bothers to bethink it, that as we are all the same and selfstanding, no one ought to harm anyone else in his life, health, freedom, or belongings. This is as:

  • we are all the work of one almighty and unendingly wise maker;
  • we are all the shalks of one overall reeve, sent into the world by his leave to do his work;
  • we are all the belongings of him who made us, and he made us to last as long as he chooses, and not as long as we choose;
  • we have the same skills, and share in one meansome birth, so there can't be any row-following that would berighten some of us to unmake others, as if we were made to be brooked by one another, as the lower kinds of makings are made to be brooked by us.

Everyone ought to uphold himself and not to offlean life willfully, so on the same grounds everyone ought, when his own outliving isn't at stake, to do as much as he can to uphold the rest of mankind; and other than when it's an inting of strafing a lawbreaker, no one may take away or scathe anything that bypulls to the upholding of someone else's life, freedom, health, limb, or goods.

7. So that all men may be held back from inthringing the rights of others and from harming one another, and so that the ordlaw that aims at the frith and forlasting of all mankind may be heeded, the helmstanding of that ordlaw (in the ordstead) is in every man's hands, so that everyone has a right to strafe lawbreakers as harshly as is needed to hinder the breaking of the law. For the ordlaw, like every law over men in this world, would be worthless if no one had dow to helmstand it and thereby forlast the sackless and fetter misdoers. And in the ordstead if anyone may strafe someone for something bad that he has done, then everyone may do so...

8. That is how in an ordstead one man comes to have a lawful dow over another. It isn't a forewardless dow, aleaving him to use a haftling lawbreaker by the hot madness or unbridled utmost of his own will; but only a dow to strafe him so far as ruly wisdom and thewing say is evenly meted to his misdeed, namely as much strafing as may theen for goodmaking and beleaning - those two are the only grounds for one man to lawfully harm another, which is what we call "strafing".

By breaking the ordlaw, the misdoer bodes himself to live by some rede other than that of wisdom and shared fairness (which is the standard that God has set for the deeds of men, for their meansome fastness); and so he becomes a threat to mankind as he has forheeded and broken the tie that is meant to spare them from harm and wald. This is a misdeed against the whole strain of mankind, and against frith and soundness that the ordlaw behefts for the lifekin.

Now, every man, by the right he has to forlast mankind overall, may fetter and if needful unmake things that are scathel to mankind; and so he can do to anyone who has overstepped that law as much harm as may make him forthink having done it, and thereby hinder him - and by his byspell hinder others - from doing the same. So on these grounds every man has a right to helmstand the ordlaw and to strafe misdoers.

9. No wonder this will seem a rather outlandish teaching to some folk, but before they fordeem it, I dare them to unfold what right any king or stead has to put to death or otherwise strafe an outlander for a misdeed he betakes in their homeland. The right is wisly not grounded on their laws, through any leave they get from the couth will of the lawmoot; for such oncouthings don't get through to an outlander: they aren't bespoken to him, and even if they were, he does't owe it to listen...

Those who have the utmost dow of making laws in England, France or Holland are to an Indian merely like the rest of the world, men without right. So if the ordlaw didn't give every man a dow to strafe misdeeds against it as he undrunkly deems the befalling to need, I don't see how the rightnessmoot of any meanship can strafe someone from another land; as they can't have any more dow over him than every man can by birth have over another.

10. As well as the misdeed that bestands in breaching the law and leaving from the right rede of wisdom - misdeeds through which man becomes so misthriven that he bodes that he is forsaking the firstliefs of human birth and becoming wormkin - there is often overstepping through which someone does harm to someone else. In the latter befalling, the man who has been harmed has, moreover the overall right of strafing that he shares with everyone else, a sundry right to seek goodmaking from the man who harmed him; and anyone else who thinks this right may also meet with the scathed man and help him to edtake from the misdoer such fees as may make fulfillment for the harm he has tholen.

11. So there are two marked rights: (i) the right that everyone has to strafe the misdoer so as to bind him and forestall such misdeeds in the hereafter; (ii) the right that a scathed man has to get goodmaking. Now, a sheriff, who by being sheriff has the shared right of strafing put into his hands, can by his own right (i) withdraw the strafing of a lawbreaking misdeed in a befalling where the shared good doesn't forlong that the law be helmstood; but he can't (ii) withdraw the fulfillment owed to any sunder man for the scathing he has taken. The only one who can do that is the man who has been harmed.

The scathed man has the dow of taking for himself the goods or work of the misdoer, by right of self-forlasting; and everyone has a dow to strafe the misdeed to forestall its being betaken again, by the right he has of forlasting all mankind, and doing everything wise that he can to that end.

And so it is that in the ordstead everyone has a dow to kill a murderer, both to frighten others from this misdeed that no goodmaking can make up for, by the byspell of the strafing that everyone wreaks for it, and also to fasten men from forthcoming misdeeds by this lawbreaker; he has forsworn wisdom, the shared rede and standard God has given to mankind, and by the wrong wald and slaughter he has betaken on one man he has forkithed war against all mankind, so that he can be unmade as though he were a lion or a tiger...

This is the grounds for the great ordlaw, "Whoever sheds man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed." Cain was so fully overwon that everyone had a right to unmake such a lawbreaker that after murdering his brother he cried out "Anyone who finds me will slay me" - so sharply was this law written in the hearts of all mankind.

12. On the same grounds a man in the ordstead may strafe lesser breaches of the ordlaw. 'By death?' you may ask. I answer that each misdeed may be strafed harshly enough to make it a bad deal for the lawbreaker, to give him grounds to forthink, and to frighten others from lawbreaking in the same way. Every misdeed that can be betaken in the ordstead may also be strafed in the ordstead - and be strafed in the same way (as far a mayly as it would be in a meanwealth).

I don't want to go into the onefoldhoods of the ordlaw or of its strafely guidelines, but I will say this much: it is wis that there is an ordlaw, which is as understandable and sharp to a wise man who learns it as are the forthput laws of meanwealths. See the unfolding of "forthput" after cleaving 1.

It may be even sharper - as much sharper as wisdom is sharper - eathier to understand, than the flighty thoughts and entangled outlookwise becastings of men who have tried to find words that will further their clashing hidden stakes. For that is what has gone into the becasting of most of the mooted laws of lands. Soothly, such laws are right only to the breadth that they are grounded on the ordlaw, which is the standard by which they should be forwended and sweetled.

13. To this outlandish teaching of mine, namely that in the ordstead everyone has the dow to helmstand the ordlaw, I foresee this gainstanding shall be raised:

It is unwise for men to be lawdeemers in their own befallings, as self-love will leaning men to uphold themselves and their friends. And on the other side, foehood, heartdraught and yieldback will lead them to strafe others too harshly. So nothing but befuddlement and unruliness will follow, and that is why God has - as he wisly has - begrounded redeship to fetter the leaning and wald of men.

I freely aleave that burgherly redeship is the right salve for the drawbacks of the ordstead. There must wisly be great misforedealings in a stead where men may be lawdeemers in their own befalling; someone who was so wrong as to do his brother a scathing will (we may well forethink) hardly be so right as to fordeem himself for it! But I answer the gainstanding as follows:

If the ordstead is unbearable because of the evils that might follow from men's being lawdeemers in their own befallings, and redeship is to be the salve for this, let us do an alikening. On the one side, there is the ordstead, and on the other there is redeship where one man - and withcall that utter kings are only men! - leads a throng, is free to be the lawdeemer in his own befalling, and can do what he likes to all his undertans, with no one being aleaved to becall or steer those who carry out his wishes, and everyone having to put up with whatever he does, whether he is led by wisdom, mistake, or heartdraught.

How much better it is in the ordstead, where no man owes it to yield to the wrong will of someone else, and someone who deems wrongly (whether or not it is in his own befalling) is answerable for that to the rest of mankind!

14. It is often asked, as though this were a mighty gainstanding: 'Where are they - where ever were they - any men in such a ordstead?' Here is an answer that may fulfill in the mean time: The world always did and always will have many men in the ordstead, because all kings and reders of selfstanding redeships throughout the world are in that stead. I inhold in this all who rede selfstanding meanships, whether or not they are tied into others; for the ordstead between men isn't ended only by their making a draught with one another.

The only draught that ends the ordstead is one in which men thware together evenwayly to betread into one meanship and make one burgherly body...

The behightings and deals inheld in trading between two men on an eyot wasteland, ... or between a Swiss and an Indian in the woods of Americksland, are binding on them even though they are flawlessly in an ordstead foreholding one another; for truth and oath-keeping belongs to men as men, not as belongers to a fellowship - that is, as an inting of ordlaw, not forthput law.

15. Against those who gainsay that anyone was ever in the ordstead, I set the right of the wise Hooker, who writes:

The ordlaw binds men utterly, only as men, even if they have no settled fellowship, no earnest thwaring among themselves about what to do and what not to do. What firstly leads us to seek onehood and fellowship with other men is the truth that on our own we haven't the means to beheft ourselves with a befitting stock of things that we need for the kind of life our beginning wants, a life fit for the worth of man. It was to make up for those flaws and unwholenesses of the lonely life that men first gathered themselves in burgherly fellowships. (The Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity [The Laws of Lordsgatheringish Borroughs], book 1, cleaving 10)

And I also foraye that all men are born into the ordstead, and stay so until they aleave to make themselves belongers to some mootish fellowship. I foresee making this all truly sharp in later bits of this rearding.

Heading 3: The Warstead

16. The warstead is a shape of foehood and unmaking. So when someone bodes by word or deed - not in a sudden outburst of wrath, but as an inting of calm settled outline - that he means to end another man's life, he puts himself into a warstead against the other man; and he thereby lays his life bare to the risk of falling to the might of the other man or anyone that links with him in his shielding and takes up his fight.

For it is wise and right that I should have a right to unmake anything that threatens me with unmaking, as the groundlaying ordlaw says that men are to be forlasted as much as mayly, and then when not everyone can be forlasted the soundness of the sackless is to be forechosen.

In line with this, I may unmake a man who makes war on me or has shown himself as a foe to my life, for the same frume that I may kill a wolf or a lion; as such men are not under the ties of the mean law of wisdom, have no guideline but that of strength and wald, and so may be behandled as flesheating wights - threatening makings that will wisly unmake me if I fall under their dow.

17. So it comes about that someone who tries to get another man under his utter dow thereby puts himself into a warstead with the other, for such an cunning leads to a forspelling of a plot against the life of the other man. If someone wants to get me under his dow without my leave, I have grounds to gather that would brook me as he liked when he had got me there, and would unmake me if he wanted to;

For no-one can want to have me under his utter dow unless it's to bede me by strength to something that is against the right of my freedom, that is to make me a thrall. To fasten my own outliving I must be free from such strength; and wisdom tells me to look on him - the man who wants me under his dow - as a foe to my ouliving, wanting to take away the freedom that is the hedge to it.

So someone who tries to enthrall me thereby puts himself into a warstead with me. Someone wants to take away the freedom of someone else must be forethought to have a plot to take away everything else from the man, as freedom is the groundwork of all the rest; and that holds in a meanwealth as well as in the ordstead.

18. This makes it lawful for me to kill a thief who hasn't done me any harm or boded any plot against my life, other than using strength to get me under his dow so as to take away my geld or whatever else he wants. Whatever he says he is up to, he is using strength without right, to get me under his dow; so I have no grounds to think that he won't, when he has me under his dow, take everything else away from me as well as my freedom. So it is lawful for me to behandle him as someone who has put himself into a warstead with me, that is to kill him if I can; for that is the risk he ran when he began a war in which he is the threat.

19. This is the flat undershed between the ordstead and the warstead. Some men - namely Hobbes - have behandled them as the same; but in truth they are as far from one another as a stead of frith, goodwill, likewise help and forlasting is far from a stead of foehood, illwill, wald, and likewise unmaking. An ordstead, rightly understood, inholds:

men living together by wisdom, with no-one on earth who stands above them both and has the right to deem between them.

Whereas in a warstead

a man brooks or bodes his will to use strength against another man, with no one on earth whom the other can beseech for help.

It is the lack of such a beseeching that gives a man the right of war against a threat, not only in an ordstate but even if they are both undertans in one fellowship. If a thief has already stolen all that I am worth and is not an ongoing threat to me, I may not harm him but through a beseeching of the law. But if he is now setting on me to rob me - even if it's only my horse or my coat that he is after - I may kill him.

There is the law, which was made for my forehealing, but there is no time for it to come between to spare me from losing my goods and maybe losing my life (and if I lose that there is no goodmaking). Furthermore, it is the thief's shild that there is no time for beseeching the deemer that stands over him and me - namely, the law - and so I am aleaved to make my own shield, and to be at war with the thief and to kill him if I can.

What puts men into an ordstead is the lack of a shared deemer who has the right; the brooking of unlawful strength against a man's body makes a warstead, whether or not there is a shared deemer and (therefore) whether or not they are in an ordstead.

20. But for men who are in a fellowship under a redeship, the warstead ends when the deed of strength ends; and then those on each side of the bestirring should evenly yield to the fair bestevening of the law... But in the ordstead, where there are no forthput laws or lawdeemers with right to beseech, once a warstead has begun it goes on - with the sackless man having a right to unmake the other if he can - until the threat offers frith, and seeks andweaving on ends that will make up for any wrongs he has done and will give the sackless man soundness from then on. What if it happens like this?

There is time and opening for a beseeching of the law, and to lawfully framed deemers, but the salve is not handy owing to an opensightly bewarping of rightness, a barefaced twisting of the laws so that they foreheal or even meed the wald or scathings wrought by some men or some band of men.

In such a befalling it is hard to think we have anything but a warstead. For wherever wald is brooked and scathing done, even if it is done by men named to carry out rightness and is clothed in the name, callings, or shapes of law, it is still wald and scathing.

The goal of the law is to foreheal and get forgooding for the sackless, by an evenhanded behandling of all who come under it; and when this is not truly done, war is made upon the tholers, and they - having nowhere on earth to beseech for rightness - are left to the only salve in such befallings, a beseeching of heaven.

21. In an ordstead where there is no right to settle between striders, and the only beseeching is to heaven, every little undershed is fit to end up in war; and that is one great grounds for men to put themselves into fellowship, and leave the ordstead. For where there is a right, a dow on earth from which help can be had by beseeching, the gainwending is settled by that might and the warstead is blocked. The rest of this cleaving betalks, in the light of this, a plucking in the Old Witnessing, Judges xi.

Heading 4: Thralldom

22. The inborn freedom of man is

to be free from any higher strength on earth, and not to be under the will or the lawmaking right of men but to be reded only by the ordlaw.

The freedom of man in fellowship is

to be under no lawmaking dow but the one begrounded by leave in the meanwealth; and not under the dow of any will or under fetter from any law but what is umdone by the lawmoot evenhearted with its updraught.

Freedom then is not what Sir Robert Filmer tells us (Observations on Hobbes, Milton, etc.,, [Onlookings of Hobbes, Milton, and the others], leaf 55), namely a freedom for everyone to do what he wants, live as he likes, and not be tied by any laws. Rather, freedom is one of two things.

Freedom of birth is being under no fetter but the ordlaw. Freedom of men under redeship is having a standing guideline to live by, shared by everyone in the frained fellowship, and made by the lawmaking dow that has been set up in it; a freedom to follow one's own will in anything that isn't forbidden by the guideline, and not to be under the unsteady, unsound, unknown, willy-nilly choice of another man.

Here and elsewhere, Locke uses "arbitrary" not in the nowtide feeling of something like "chosen for no sake" or "chosen on a whim" or the like; but rather in a broader feeling, tidely in his day, as meaning only "chosen" or "hanging upon someone's choice". In that older and weaker feeling of the word, the fear of being under someone's "arbitrary" will is only a fear of being at the ruth whatever he chooses to do to you, whether or not his choice is "arbitrary" in the nowtidely feeling.

In this oversetting into Anglish, "willy-nilly" is brooked for this kind of "arbitrary", which comes from the wordstring, "will ye, nill ye", meaning, "be ye willing, be ye unwilling". It shares the nowtide feeling of whimsy of "arbitrary" but could also be understood to mean "hanging upon someone's choice", or more spot-on, "whether you like it or not".

23. In this cleaving Locke writes that a man doesn't have the dow to take his own life. He seemingly means that man may not rightly take his own life as the groundlaying ordlaw says that men are to be forlasted as much as they can (cleaving 16). He goes on:

This freedom from utter wanreding, is so needful to a man's outliving, so tightly tied to it, that losing it means losing all wield over his own life. That's why no-one can willingly enter into thralldom. A man doesn't have the dow to take his own life, so he can't willingly inthrall himself to anyone, or put himself under the overall, wanreding of someone else to take away his life whenever he likes.

Nobody can give more dow than he has; so someone who cannot take away his own life cannot give someone else such a wielding over it. If someone does a deed that meeds death, he has by his own shild forlorn his own life; the man to whom he has forlorn it may (when he has him under dow) forestall taking it and rather brook the besetting man for his own sake; and this isn't doing him any wrong, as whenever he finds the hardship of his thralldom to outweigh the worth of his life, he has the dow to withstand his lord, thus bringing him the death that he wants.

24. What I have been betalking is the fettle of utter thralldom, which is a right ongoing of the warstead between a lawful overcomer and a haftling. If they enter into any kind of draught - thwaring to mired reding on the one side and befollowing on the other - the warstead and thralldom ends for as long as the deal is upheld. For, as I have said, no man can by a thwaring hand over to someone else something that he doesn't himself have, namely a dow over his own life.

I acknowledge that we find among the Jews, as well as other thedes, befallings where men sold themselves, but wisly they sold themselves only into drudgery, not thralldom. It is swotel that the man who was sold wasn't thereby put at the milts of an utter, wandriven tharlsome reding; for the lord ought at some time to let the other go free from his theenhood, and so he couldn't at any time have the might to kill him.

Indeed, the lord of this kind of thew was so far from having a wandriven reding over his life that he couldn't even choose to cripple him: the loss of an eye or a tooth set him free (Exodus xxi).

Heading 5: Ownership

25. God, as King David says (Psalms cxv. 16), has given the earth to the children of men - given it meanly to mankind. This is swotel, whether we huy inborn wisdom, which tells us that men, once they are born, have a right to outlive and thus a right to food and drink and such other things as the earth yields for their outliving, or unheling, which gives us a reckoning of the bestowings that God made of the world to Adam and to Noah and his sons. Some men think that this makes a great hardship about how anyone should ever come to own anything. I might answer that hardship with another hardship, saying that if the undersetting that

God gave the world to Adam and his offspring to share

makes it hard to see how there can be any sundry ownership, the hedging that

God gave the world to Adam and his afterfollowing erves, aside from all the lat of his offspring

makes it hard to see how anything can be owned other than by one allsome king. But I shan't rest happy with that, and will try to show in a forthput way how men could come to own sundry shedded deals of something that God gave to mankind to share, and how this could come about without any outfold thwaring broadly among men. Here and throughout this heading, 'own' will often edstow Locke's 'have an ownership in'.

26. God, who has given the world to men to share, has also given them wisdom to make use of it to the best boon of life and quemeness. The earth and everything in it is given to men for the bearing and frovering of their being.

All the ovet it kindly bears and wights that it feeds, as borne by the driven hand of the earth, belong to mankind to share; nobody has an underlying right - a sunder right that outshuts the rest of mankind - over any of them as they are in their inborn shape.

But they were given for the brooking of men; and before they can be neeted or helpful to any one man there must be some way for a given man to beown them.

The wild Indians in North Americksland don't have hedges or mires, and are still together dwellers in their land; but if any one of them is to get any boon from ovet or deer meat, then the food must be his - and his (that is, a deal of him) in such a way that no one else withholds any right to it.

The stock whence this writ leaf takes Locke's English writing gives this upmarking: The last nearcwide of that is puzzling. Does Locke mean that the Indian can't straightaway get help from the deer meat other than by eating it? That seems to be the only way to make sense of 'deal of him'; but it doesn't fit well with the cwidecluster as a whole.

However, it is not so bewildering a forthput as the former bydrafter thinks. Locke puts forth two thoughts here: First, to bring forth help from meat, a man must eat it. Next, if the man eats it, it becomes deal of him, and when this happens, no other man can go on holding a right to brook it. It is so far beyond the reach of other men, it is now worksomely become a mere building block that makes up the man himself - a man whom no one else may rightly own, see Heading 4 and cleaving 27. Therefore, if a man eats, he must take ownership of the food.

27. Though men as a whole own the earth and all lower makings, every sundry man has an ownership in his self that is, owns himself; this is something that nobody else has any right to. The work of his body and the work of his hands, we may say, are tightly his. So when he takes something from the stead that the earth has given and left it is, he mixes his work with it, thus tying to it something that is his own; and in that way he makes it his own.

He has withdrawn the thing from the shared stead that the earth has put it in, and through this work the thing has had fastened to it something that outshuts the shared right of other men: for this work unbecallably belongs to the worker, so no other man can have a right to anything the work is tied to - at least where there is enough, and as good, left shared for others. See Locke's boding that every man 'has an ownership in his self'. He often says that the whole goal of mootish makeups is to foreheal 'ownership'; which might be dirtily waresome if he weren't talking about the forehealing not only of man's bodylike belongings but also his life and freedom.

28. Someone who eats the acorn he picked up under an oak, or the apples he gathered from the trees in the woods, has wisly onowned them to himself! Nobody can gainsay that the nourishment is his. Well, then, when did they begin to be his?

when he ate them?
when he cooked them?
when he brought them home?
when he picked them up under the tree?

It is straightforward that if his first gathering didn't make them his, nothing else could do so. The work marked those things off from the rest of the world's inhold; it eked something to them beyond what they had been given by the earth, the shared mother of all; and so they became his sunder right.

Underset we gainsaid this, and said instead:

He had no right to the acorns or apples that he thus onowned, because he didn't have the leave of all mankind to make them his. It was robbery on his behalf to take for himself something that belonged to all men to share.

If such a leave as that was needed, all men broadly would have starved, notwithstanding the overflow God had given to them. We see the offhandling I am upholding at work in our own fellowship. When there is some land that has a shared steading - being held all together by the fellowship by thwaring among them - taking any bit of what is shared and pulling it out of the stead the earth leaves it in makes ownership; and if it didn't, the shared things would be to no good end.

And the taking of this or that deal doesn't hang on the outspoken leave of all the sharers. Thus when my horse bites off some grass, my shalk cuts turf, or I dig up ore, in any stead where I have a right to these shared with others, the grass or turf or ore becomes my own, without anyone's giving it to me or aleaving to my having it. My work in taking it out of the shared stead it was in has begrounded me as its owner.

29. If the outfold leave of every sharer was needed for anyone to onown to himself any bit of what is given to share, children couldn't cut into the mean their father had given for them to share without saying which child was to have which deal. The water running in the spring is everyone's, but who would mistrust that the water in the crock belongs to the person who drew it out? ...

30. Thus this law of wisdom makes it so that the Indian who kills a deer owns it; it is thwared to belong to the man who put his work into it, even though until then it was the shared right of everyone. Those who are reckoned as the forboroughed deal of mankind have made and manifolded forthput laws to settled ownership rights; but even among us this first ordlaw - the law reding how ownership starts when everything is held to share - still forwends. Locke ends the cleaving with byspells: catching fish, gathering gray burnstone, shooting a hare.

31. You may gainstand that if gathering the acorns and so forth makes a right to them, then anyone may hoard as much as he likes. I answer: Not so. The very ordlaw that in this way gives us ownership also sets bounds to that ownership. God has given us all things richly. ... But how far has he given them to us? To neet "to brook, to get help from"; this is what 'neet(ing)' wontsomely means in this work.

Anyone can through his work come to own as much as he can brook in a helpful way before it rots; anything beyond this is more than his share and belongs to others. Nothing was made by God for man to rot or unmake. For a long time there could be little room for fights or struggles about ownership begrounded on these grounds: there was an overflow of earthly goods and few brookers of them; and only a small deal of that overflow could be marked off by the worksomeness of one man and hoarded up to the misforedealing of others - besunderly keeping within the bounds (set by wisdom) of what he could workly brook.

32. But these days, the foremost inting about ownership betees the earth itself rather than the worts and wights that live on it, as when you own some of the earth you own what lives on it as well. I think it is wis that ownership of land is gotten in the same way that I have been bewriting. A man owns whatever land he tills, sows, forbetters, reaps, and can brook the yields thereof. By his work he as it were hedges off tha land from all that is held to share. Underset someone gainstood:

He has no sound right to the land, as everyone else has a likewise deed to it. So he can't onown it, he can't 'hedge it off', without the leave of all his fellow-sharers, all mankind.

That is wrong. When God gave the world for all mankind to share, he bade man to work, and man needed to work for the sake of survival. So God and his wisdom bade man to underbring the earth, that is, to forbetter it for the good of life; and in doing that he spent something that was his own, namely his work. A man who in hearsomeness to this behest of God underbrought, tilled and sowed any deal of the earth's overlay thereby linked to that land something that was his own, something that no one else had any deed to or could rightfully take from him.

33. This onowning of a plot of land by forbettering it wasn't done at the cost of any other man, as there was still enough (and as good) left for others - more than enough for the brooking of the men who weren't yet seen to. In outcome, the man who by his work 'hedged off' some land and didn't forlessen the deal of land that was left for everyone else: someone who leaves as much as anyone else can brook does as good as take nothing at all. Nobody could think he had been harmed by someone else's taking a long drink of water, if there was the whole stream of the same water left for him to quench his thirst; and the ownership intings beteeing land and water, where there is enough of both, are truly the same.

34. God gave the world to men to share; but since he gave it them for their good and for the greatest quemenesses of life they could get from it, he can't have meant it always to stay shared and unworked. He gave it for the brooking of the wise and hard-working man (and work was to be his deed to it), not to the whims or the greed of the man who is fightsome and stridesome.

Someone who had land left for his forbettering - land as good as what they had already been taken up - had no need to whinge and ought not to worry himself with what had already been forbettered by someone else's work. If he did, it would be straightforward that he wanted the good of someone else's work, to which he had no right, rather than the ground that God had given him to share with others to work on. ...

35. In lands such as England now, where there are many folk living under a redeship, and where there is geld and trade, no one can enclose or onown any bit of any shared land without the leave of all his fellow-sharers. That is as land that is held to share has that steading by draught, that is by the law of the land, which is not to be breached.

Also, although such land is held to share by some men, it isn't held by all mankind; rather, it is the shared ownership of this land or this town. Furthermore, after such an enclosing - such a 'hedging off' - what was left would not, from the outlook of the rest of the sharers, be 'as good' as the whole was when they could all brook the whole. This is rather unlike how things stood when that great sharing, the world, was just starting and being befolked.

The law that man was under at that time stood for onowning. God bade man to work, and his wants dowed him to do so. That was his ownership, which couldn't be taken from him wherever he had fastened it. And so we see that underbringing or working the earth and having lordship are tied together, the former making the right to the latter. ...

36. The earth did well in setting bounds to sunder ownership through bounds to how much men can work and bounds to how much they need. No man's work could tame or onown all the land; no man's neeting could forbrook more than a small bit; so that it was unmayly for any man in this way to forbreak the right of another, or get an ownership to the misforedealing of his neighbor ... This meal locked every man's belongings to a very middling meting, such as he might make his own without harming anyone else, in the first ages of the world when men were more under threat of getting lost by wandering off on their own in the vast wilderness of the earth as it was then than of being squeezed for lack of land to work.

And, full as the world now seems, the guideline for land-ownership can still be onnimmed without harm to anyone. Underset a kindred in the stead folk were in when the world was first being befolked by the children of Adam, or of Noah; let them sow on some empty land in the inside of Americksland. We'll find that the belongings they could get, by the guideline I have given, would not be very big, and even today they wouldn't witherwardly forwend the rest of mankind, or give them grounds to whinge or think themselves harmed by this kindred's oncrooking.

I hold that this notwithstanding the truth that the human strain has spread itself to all the nooks of the world, and unendingly outrimes those who were here at the beginning. Indeed, the breadth of ground is of so little worth when not worked on that I have been told that in Spain a man may be aleaved to plow, sow, and reap on land to which his only deed is that he is brooking it. ...

Be this as it may (and I don't bestand on it), I undertake to bode boldly that if it weren't for only one thing, the same guideline of ownership - namely that every man is to own as much as he could brook - would still hold in the world, without misqueming anybody, as there is enough land in the world to fulfill twice as many men as there are. The 'one thing' that blocks this is the afinding of geld, and men's unspoken thwaring to put a worth on it; this made it mayly, by men's leave, to have bigger belongings and to have a right to them. I now go on to show how this has come about.

37. Men came to want more than they needed, and this changed the inward worth of things: a thing's worth first hung only on its brooksomeness to the life of man; but men came to thware that a little bit of yellow blome - which wouldn't fade or rot or rust - should be worth a great lump of flesh or a whole heap of corn. Before all that happened, each man could onown by his work as much of the things of the earth as he could brook, without hindering others, because a likewise overflow was still left to those who would work as hard on it.

Locke now moves away from the anowly-boded evin of geld, and won't come back to it until cleaving 46.

To which let me eke that someone who comes to own land through his work doesn't lessen the shared stock of mankind but forgreatens it. That's as the life-girding stocked goods made by one acre of enclosed and worked land, are (to put it rather mildly) ten times more than what would come from an acre of likewise rich land that was held to share and not worked. So he who encloses land, and gets more of the quemenesses of life from ten worked acres than he could have had from a hundred left to the earth, can truly be said to give ninety acres to mankind.

For his work now fulfills him with stocked goods out of ten ares that would have needed a hundred unworked acres lying shared. I have here greatly understaed the waresomeness of forbettered land, setting it at ten to one when soothly it is much nearer a hundred to one.

Locke upholds this by alikening a thousand acres of 'the wild woods and unworked waste of Americksland' with 'ten acres of likewise fallow land in Devonshire, where they are well worked.' He then starts a fresh ord: before land was owned, someone could by gathering ovest or hunting wights come to own those things, by sake of the work he had put into them. But:

If they rotted in his ownership without having been rightly brooked - if the ovest rotted or the deer meat befouled before he could brook it - he breached the shared ordlaw, and was answerable to be strafed. For he had oncrooked on his neighbor's share, as he had no right to these things beyond what good they could be to him to afford him quemenesses of life.

38. The same guideline reded the ownership of land too: he had his own bestevened right to whatever grass and such that he sowed, reaped, stocked, and brooked before it rotted; and to whatever wights he enclosed, fed, and brooked. But if the grass of his enclosure rotted on the ground, or the ovest of his sowing died without being harvested and stocked, this bit of the earth was still to be looked on as wasteland that might be owned by anyone else - notwithstanding the truth that he had enclosed it.

Thus, at the beginning, Cain might take as much ground as he could work and make it his own land, still leaving enough for Abel's sheep to feed on; a few acres would do for both. But as kindreds forgreatened and by hard work forgreatened their stocks, their belongings forgreatened matchwise; but this widely happened without any fastened ownership of the land they brooked. When the time was right they shaped into flocks, settled themselves together, and built boroughs; and then by and by they set out the meres of their marked landdeals, thwared on borders between them and their neighbors, and begrounded laws of their own to settle ownership-rights within the fellowship. These land-ownership unfoldings came alikewise late.

For we see that in the bit of the world that was first indwelt and was therefore likely the most thickly befolked, even as late as Abraham's time they wandered freely up and down with the flocks and herds that they lived on; and Abraham did these even in a land where he was an outlander. This shows wisly that a great bit of the land, at least, lay shared; that the dwellers didn't aught it or call ownership of it beyond brooking it. But when there came to be a lack of grazing land in the same stead, they broke and forgreatened their meadow where it best fit them (as Abraham and Lot did, Genesis xiii. 5). ...

39. The undersetting that Adam had all to himself right over and ownership of all the world, to the outshutting of all other men, can't be soothed, and anyway couldn't be the grounds for anyone's ownership rights today. And we don't need it. Undersetting the world to have been given (as it was) to the children of men to share, we see how men's work could give them sundry deeds to undershed deals of it, for their sunder brookings; with no qualms about who has what rights, and no room for fighting.

40. It isn't as outlandish as it may seem at first glimpse that the ownership of work should be able to outweigh the fellowship of land. For work infloods the worth of everything. Think of how an acre of land sown with tabaqwort or sugar, sown with wheat or barley, undersheds from an acre of the same land lying shared without being worked; you will see the forbetterment brought about by work makes most of the spare worth of the former.

It would be a truly forwatchsome reckoning to say that of the wares of the earth that are brooksome to the life of the man, nine tenths are the outcomes of work. Indeed, if we rightly reckon the sundry costs that have been inheld in things as they come to our brooking, sorting out what in them is cleanly owed to the earth and what to work, we'll find that in most of them ninety-nine hundredths of their worth should go in the work sile.

41. Locke here undersheds sundry 'thedes of the Americkslands' with England; they have likewise good soil, but an Amerisklandish 'king' lives worse than an English 'day-worker', as the Americkslanders don't forbetter their land by work.

42. This will become sharper if we onefoldly track some of the wontsome stocked goods of life through their sundry shapes up to becoming brooksome to us, and see how much of their worth comes from human worksomeness. Bread, wine, and cloth are things we brook daily, and we have enough of them; but if it weren't for work that is put into these more brooksome goods we would have to settle for acorns, water, and leaves or skins as our food, drink, and clothing. What makes

bread worth more than acorns
wine worth more than water
cloth or silk worth more than leaves, skins or moss,

is wholly owed to work and worksomeness. ... One upshot of this is that the ground that outputs the andworks gives only a truly small deal of the end worth. So small a deal that even here in England, land that is left wholly to the earth, with no forbettering through work ... is rightly called 'waste', and we shall find the good of it heaps up to little more than nothing.

This hows how much better it is to have a big folkhood than to have a big land; and shows that the great craft of redeship is to have the land brooked well, and that any reder will quickly be sound against his neighbors if he has the wisdom - the godlike wisdom - to beground laws of freedom to foreheal and onhearten the forthright worksomeness of his folk against the underthrack of might and narrowness of band. But that is by the way, I come back to the reckoning at hand.

43. Locke again alikens unworked Americkish land with worked land in England, this time putting the worth forhold at one to a thousand. He goes on:

It is work, then, that puts the greatest deal of worth upon land, without which it would sparsely be worth anything. We owe to work the greatest deal of all the land's brooksome yield; it is work that makes straw, bran, and bread of an acre of wheat worth more than the yield of an acre of likewise good land that lies waste. The work that goes into the bread we eat is not just

the plowman's while, the work of the reaper and thresher, and the baker's sweat,

but also

the work of those who tamed the oxen, who dug and shaped the iron and stones, who felled and framed the timber used in the plow, the mill, the oven, or any of the great rime of other tools that are needed to get this corn from fieldworthy seed to foodworthy bread.

All this should be ascraped to work, as for the earth and the land - they gave only the andworks, which were almost worthless in their raw shape. Fathom what it would be like if every loaf of bread came to us along with a list of all the bypullings that work had made to its being! It would have to inhold the work bestanddeals in helpful deals of

iron, wood, leather, bark, timber, stone, bricks, coals, lime, cloth, dyes, pitch, tar, masts, ropes, and all the andworks brooked in the ship that brought any of the goods brooked by any of the workmen in any bit of the work.

It would take far too long to make such a list, if indeed it was even mayly.

44. All this makes it wis that though the things of the earth are given to share, man had in himself the great grounds for ownership - namely his being lord of himself, and owner of his own body and of the deeds or work done by it; and that most of what he forwended to the girding or soothing of his being, when afinding and skills had made life more sootheworthy, was wholly his own and didn't belong to others to share.

45. Thus work in the beginning gave a right of ownership wherever anyone chose to install his work on what was held to share. For a long time the shared holdings were much greater than what was sunderly owned, and even now they are greater than what mankind brooks. At first, men were mainly happy with what the unbesteaded earth gave to meet their needs, but then:

In some deals of the world (where the forgreatening folk and wights, and the brooking of geld, had made land sparse and thus of some worth) manifold fellowships settled the bounds of their sundry lands, and by laws within themselves steadied the ownerships of the sunder men in their fellowship, and in this way by draught and thwaring they settled the ownership rights that work and worksomeness had begun.
And the ties that have been made between undershed steads and kingdoms, either outfoldly or wordlessly withowning all calling to one anothers' land, have by shared leave given up their callings to their inborn shared right in unfostered land in one another's lorddoms, and so have by forthput thwaring settled who owns what in manifold bits and deals of the earth, so that, for byspell, no Englishman can say he owns an acre of France for the sake that (i) it was unworked until he worked on it and (ii) he was not a dealnimmer to 'inside' French laws giving its ownership to someone else.

Even after all this, however, there are great swaths of ground that still lie shared and so could rightly be called on the grounds of work. These are in lands whose indwellers haven't linked with the rest of manking in the leave of the brooking of their shared geld, and are lands that outstep what the indwellers do or can brook. Though this can hardly happen among folk who have thwared to use geld.

46. Most of the things brooksome to the life of man - things that the world's first sharers, like the Americkish even now, were made to seek for their sheer outliving - are things of short timespan, things that will rot and die if they are not forbrooked soon.

The much more hardy gold, silver, and toughhursts are things that have worth by thwaring rather than for the sake of a true brooking for them in upholding life.

I shall now unfold how those two kinds of worth came to be linked. Of the good things that the earth has given to share, everyone had a right (as I have said) to as much as he could brook. Each man owned everything that he could bring about with his work, everything that his worksomeness could change from the shape the earth had put it in.

He who gathered a hundred bushels of acorns or apples thereby owned them; as soon as he had gathered them, they were his. His only fetter was to be wis that he brooked them before they rotted, for otherwise he took more than his share, and robbed others.

And indeed it was foolish as well as untruthful to hoard up more than he could brook. Now bethink a stepwise threesome of befallings. (i) If he gave away some to someone else, so that it didn't rot brooklessly in his ownership, that was one way of brooking it. (ii) And if he traded plums that would have rotted in a week for nuts that would stay foodworthy for a year, he wasn't harming anyone. As long as nothing rotted brooklessly in his hands, he wasn't wasting the shared stock, unmaking goods that belonged to others. (iii) If he traded his stock of nuts for a bit of blome that had a quemely hue, or swapped his sheep for shells, or his wool for a sparkling pebble or a toughhurst, and kept those - the blome, shells, pebbles, toughhursts - in his ownership all his life, this wasn't oncrooking on anyone else's rights. ...

What would take him beyond the bounds of his rightful ownership was not having a great deal but letting something rot instead of being brooked.

47. That is how geld came into brooking - as a hardy thing that men could keep without its rotting, and that by likewise leave men would take in kind for the truly brooksome but short-lived girder of life.

48. And as undersheds in how hard men worked were fit to make undersheds in how much they owned, so this afinding of geld gave them the opening to abide and forgreaten their ownerships. Bethink this maylihood:

An iland sundered from any maylihood of trade with the rest of the world; only a hundred kindreds on the iland; but enough sheep, horses and cows and other brooksome wights, enough wholesome ovests, and enough land for corn, for a hundred thousand times as many; but nothing on the iland that is fewsome and hardy enough to stand as geld.

On such an iland, what grounds could anyone have to forgreaten his ownership beyond the needs of his household, these being met by his own worksomeness and / or trade with other households for likewise short-lived and brooksome goods?

Men won't be fit to forgreaten their ownerships of land - however rich and handy spare land may be - if there isn't something hardy and sparse and reckoned as worthy to stock up. Underset someone has the opening to come to own ten thousand (or a hundred thousand) acres of outstanding land, already worked and well stocked with cattle, in the middle of the inside of Americksland where he has no hopes of business with other deals of the world through which to get geld through the sale of the yield.

What worth will his fasten to his homestead? It wouldn't be worth his while to mark its bounds; he will hand it back to the wild share of the earth, aside from what it would stock for the quemenesses of life to be had there for him and his kindred.

49. Thus in the beginning all the world was Americksland - even more so than Americksland is now, as in the beginning no such thing as geld was known anywhere. Find out something that has the brooking and worth of geld among a man's neighbors and you'll see him start to forgreaten his ownership.

50. In this cleaving, Locke goes over it again: by wordlessly thwaring to fasten worth to gold, silver, or other geld, men have found a way for someone to own more than he can brook. He closes with the bemarking that 'in redeships, the laws steady the right of ownership, and the ownership of land is settled by forthput lawframes', see markup on 'forthput' at the end of cleaving 1.

51. It is eathy to conceive, then, how work could at first make ownership of some of the shared things of the earth, and how brookings we could make of those things set bounds to what could be owned by any one man. So there couldn't be any grounds for fighting about deed, or any twimindedness about how much could be owned.

Right and quemeness went together; for as a man had a right to all he could install his work upon, so he had no costening to work more than he could brook. This left no room for strife about the deed, or for oncrooking on the rights of others: what deal a man carved out for himself was eathily seen; and it was brookless as well as untruthfull for him to carve out too much or take more than he needed.

Wordlist

The words in the following spreadsheet are newly built for this leaf writ. They are herein unfolded and their wellsprings given when needful. Words with a star are wholly new and are not inheld in the English Wordbook. Words with a dagger are new oversettings for words already bestanding in the English Wordbook. Loanoversettings from Latin are often forechosen over those from New High German in befallings where the Theedish loanoversetting makes a word that is more bewildering than the Latinish one. However, here inheld are also some of the Theedish new words as other choices. These are marked "alternative", as they are not brooked in this leaf writ.

Chancery English Kind Anglish Wellspring
accord n evenheartedness† (cf. Latin accordāre)
administer v carry out†
adopt v assume, accept: onnim (on- + <OE niman, cf. NHG annehmen, Du. aannemen)
aggressor n threat†

alternative: besetter

(<OE besettan)

ambergris n gray burnstone (cf. NHG Bernstein, "amber" + Frankish gris ,"gray")
annex v fasten* (from Latin annectō, "attach")
appeal v beseech†
apply adj put to use: forwend† (cf. NHG verwenden)
appropriate v onown* (cf. NHG aneignen)
arbitrary adj willy-nilly†
argument n reckoning†
assert v forsicker (cf. NHG versichern, "affirm, insure")
attempt n undertaking†
attribute v ascrape* (from "ascribe", NHG zuschreiben, Du. toeschrijven, Latin āscrībō, from ad-, "to" + scrībō, "write". Cognate with Old English screpan, "to scrape, scratch")
authority n right†
authorize v berighten* (cf. NHG berechtigen)
barter v trade†
beasts of prey n flesheating wights*
body politic n burgherly body* (cf. NHG bürgerlich, "civic")
charge v bewray† (<OE bewrēġan)
civilize v forborough†

alternative: forsteaden

(for- + <OE burh, "stronghold")

(cf. NHG verstädtern, "to urbanize")

clause n nearcwide* (<OE cwide + cf. NHG Nebensatz, "clause", from neben-, "near" + Satz, "set")
comfort v soothe
commodity n good*

quemeness*

(from Latin commodus "suitable; convenient; opportune, timely" +‎ -itas; <OE cwēman, "to gratify, satisfy")
common adj meansome†
commonwealth n meanwealth†
communion n onehood†
component n bestanddeal* (cf. NHG Bestandteil, Da. bestanddel)
concern v lit, cover: betee* (<OE betēon, "cover", cf. NHG beziehen)
condition n physical state: beshapehood†

prerequisite: forewarding†

(cf. NHG Beschaffenheit)

(cf. Du. Voorwaarde + -ing)

conserve v forwatch† (cf. Latin conservare "to keep, preserve", from com- intensive prefix + servo "keep watch, maintain")
consistent adj evenhearted† (cf. Latin accordāre)
consume v use up: forbrook* (cf. NHG verbrauchen)
contend v stride† (cf. NHG streiten)
contrive v becast* (<ME bicasten, conflated with OE costnian)
convenience n quemeness* (<OE cwēmnes, cwēman, "to gratify, satisfy"; cognate of NHG Bequemlichkeit, "comfort")
convict v befind† (<ME befinden)
convince v overrede† (cf. NHG Überreden)
correspond v match*

swap letters: withanswer*

(from Middle French correspondre, from Latin com-, "with" + respondeo "to match, to answer to")

(cf. NHG entsprechen, Latin comrespondeo)

criminal n misdoer†
criminal offense n lawbreaking misdeed†
declare v forkithe† (cf. NHG verkünden)
demand v forlong* (cf. NHG verlangen)
detail n onefoldhood† (cf. NHG Einzelheit)
devise v becast† (<ME bicasten, conflated with OE costnian)
digest v fordew*

melt*

(cf. NHG verdauen, from OHG dewen, "liquefy")

(<OE meltan, "melt, dissolve, digest")

disadvantage n misforedealing†
discuss v betalk†
dispose of v deal out†
due adj ought*
durable adj hardy*

alternative: trimsome

(cf. Du. duurzaam, from duren "last" + -zaam "-some", Latin durus "hard, fast", cognate of OE trymman "to make firm; strengthen")
duration n timespan*
duty n owing*
edible adj foodworthy†
effective adj worksome† (cf. NHG wirksam)
employ v involve, engage: install†

alternative: infold

(cf. NHG einstellen)

(cf. Latin implicare "to infold, involve, engage", from in "in" + plicare "to fold")

encroach v oncrook† (cf. Old French encrochier, "to seize", from en- + crook, <OE *crōc, "hook, bend, crook")
enmity n foehood†
enslave v enthrall*
espouse v fortide* (cf. Du. verdedigen)
evident n shown*
exact adj true, spot-on†

alternative: forestricken

(from "precise", cf. Latin prae-, "fore-" +‎ caedō, "strike")
forfeit v forlese (simple past forlore, past participle forlorn)* (<OE forlēosan, cognate of Du. verliezen)
hypothesis n undersetting* (cf. Ancient Greek hupótíthēmi, see also: suppose)
impose v uplay† (cf. NHG auferlegen)
infringe v forbreak† (cf. Latin infringere "to break off", from in "in" + frangere "to break")
in league with adj tied into*
in relation to adj beteeing* (cf. NHG Beziehung)
inconsistent adj unevenhearted* (cf. Latin accordāre)
inevitable adj unformithely* (from "unavoidable", cf. NHG unvermeidlich)
innocent adj sackless† (<OE saclēas)
intricate adj entangled*
judiciary n rightnessmoot†
justify v rightready† (cf. NHG rechtfertigen)
legislature n lawmoot†
liable adj answerable†
malice n illwill†
mandate n updraught, updraft* (cf. NHG Auftrag, "mission")
mandate v assign, authorize: updraw* (cf. NHG auftragen)
maxim n overforthput* (from Latin propositio maxima, "greatest proposition")
mercantile adj waresome* (from Latin merx, "merchandise, commodity, goods" + -some)
mutual adj likewise†
noxious adj scathel* (<OE sceaþol)
object v gainstand†
offense n misdeed*
offend v beset*
oppose v againstand, transitive
oppress v thrack (<OE þryccan)
oppression n underthrack† (<OE þryccan, cf. NHG unterdrücken, Du. undertrykke)
opt out of v offlean* (cf. NHG ablehnen, "decline, reject")
ordinary adj usual, customary: wontsome*
orthodoxy n straightlief* (cf. Greek orthódoxos; straight + opinion, <OE lēafa)
pact n fordraught, fordraft*

tolerate, bear, endure: fordraw

(cf. NHG Vertrag, "treaty")

(cf. NHG vertragen, "endure")

paragraph n cwidecluster* (from <OE cwide, "sentence" + cluster)
party n participant: dealnimmer (cf. NHG teilnehmen)
pass on v bequeath†
passion n heartdraught, heartdraft* (cf. Du. hartstocht)
penalty n strafe* (<NHG strafe, "punishment")
perpetrate v wreak*
pitcher n crock* (<OE crocca, "crock, pot, vessel")
plain adj flat*
point of view n outlook*

alternative: onsight

(cf. NHG Ansicht)
positive adj forthput*

alternative: upstold

(cf. Latin positivus, "emplaced")

(cf. NHG aufstellen, "postulate, set up")

practice n deed†
principle n firstlief† (cf. Latin prīncipium + <OE lēafa)
proportionate adj evenly meted*
protect v foreheal† (cf. Latin protegere + NHG verhelen, "cover in front")
provision n stocked good, good (from Latin prōvīsiō, "preparation, foresight" and preparō, "arrange in advance"; goods stocked in foresight of their need)
pulpit n flatscape* (cf. Latin pulpitum, "platform")
punitive adj strafely*
quarrel n fight*
question v becall* (obs, challenge)
ratio n forhold* (cf. NHG Verhältnis, Nor. forhold)
reason n wisdom†
reasonable adj wise†
regulate v steady† (as in, "to make regular")
relevant adj helpful*

alternative: onmeting, edlifting, unlastening

(from pertain, cf. NHG angemessen)

(cf. Latin relevō, "lift up again, lighten, relieve", from re-, "again" + levō "lift")

(from Old French relevant, "assisting", cf. Latin relevō, "lift up again, lighten, relieve" and NHG entlasten, "relieve, ease, unburden")

relieve v help*
reparation n goodmaking* (cf. NHG wiedergutmachen)
respectively adv beteeingwise (cf. NHG beziehungsweise)
rule n guideline* (from Latin rēgula, "ruler")
section n cleaving* (from Latin sectio, "cutting, excision")
sober adj undrunk*
solemn adj earnest*
sordid adj dirty* (from Latin sordidus, "dirty")
source n wellspring*
sowable adj fieldworthy*
state n stead*
strict adj tight† (from Latin strictus, "drawn tight")
subdue v underbring
subject n undertan* (cf. NHG Untertan)
subordinate to adj set below*
subsist v understead*

alternative: bestand

(cf. Latin subsistere, from sub "under" + sistere "to cause to stand, place" + bestead, "to support, help")

(cf. NHG bestehen)

succeed v afterfollow* (<OE æfterfolgian)
suppose v underset†

alternative: onnim

(cf. Latin supponere, "to put under",

see also: hypothesis)

(cf. NHG annehmen, Du. aannemen)

tenant n dweller*
term n end* (from Latin terminus, "bound", "end")
theory n outlook* (cf. Greek theōréō and Latin speculātus, "look out")
theoretical adj outlookwise*
thesis n a statement supported by arguments: offhandling* (cf. Da. afhandling)
topic n evin† (from Scots evin, "matter, subject matter, substance", cognate with Swedish ämne "subject, substance, material, topic")
tract n swath
transgress v overstep† (cf. Latin trānsgredior, "step beyond")
trouble n bestirring† (from Latin turba, "stir", as in, "an effort taken beyond the norm")
unbiased adj evenhanded*
uncertain adj unsound†
unconditional adj forewardless* (cf. Du. Voorwaarde + -less)
unjust adj wrong*
unquestionable adj unbecallable* (obs, unchallengeable)
unreasonable adj unwise*
usual adj wontsome† (<OE ġewunod, from wunian "to dwell, be accustomed to" + -some)
venture v undertake*
vermin n wormkin† (from Latin vermis, "worm" + -kin)
violence n wald† (<OE ġeweald, cf. NHG Gewalt, Sw. våld)