John Locke's Latter Ofhandling

Here inheld are the first seven headings of John Locke's Latter Handling of Redeship, twoth of two ofhandlings.

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 cwide "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 Ofhandlings

Reader, you have here the beginning and the end of a twofold handling of 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 Ofhandling, that is the next bit of the twofold ofhandling, 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 Handling of Redeship and also take up a good deal of room in the Latter.

These beliving leaves, I hope, are enough to staddle the seat of our great edstower, our King William, to berighten his ownership of 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 berighten 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 overtelling 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, for 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 straightlief of our times...

I wouldn't have written against Sir Robert, working to show his mistakes, twiheartedness, 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 withtaking his teaching, rid me of the bewraying 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 swear to 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 Ofhandling

Heading 1

1. In my First Handling 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 erves would not have the same right.
3. That if the right were to be bequoth to his erves, it would be unsettled who were his erves, for 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 erves 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 underset 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 samehood, 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 boons 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 samehood of men as so straightforward and unhinderable that he grounds on it men's tie 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 deal of my wants that other men, being all of the same birth, must have?

To offer them anything twihearted 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, for 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 kindwise 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 samehood 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 himself out 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 mean birth, so there can't be any row-following that would berighten some of us to unmake others, for 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 beliving 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 mean 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 gives 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 boded will of the lawmoot; for such bodings 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 mankind 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 overtold 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 as 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 swotel 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 staddled 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, for self-love will lean 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 - staddled 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 banes 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 underset) 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 edcall 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) must answer 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 oaths 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. I set against those who gainsay that anyone was ever in the ordstead 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 kindwise leads us to seek onehood and fellowship with other men is the truth that on our own we haven't the means to get for ourselves a befitting stock of things that we need for the kind of life our kind 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 swith swotel in later deals of this cwiding.

Heading 3: The Warstead

16. The warstead is a fettle 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 undertaking betokens 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 he 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 beliving 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 beliving, wanting to take away the freedom that is the hedge to it.

So someone who tries to inthrall me thereby puts himself into a warstead with me. Someone wants to take away the freedom of someone else must be underset to have a plot to take away everything else from the man, for 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 forspelled 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 outcomes 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 staddled 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 fellowship at hand, 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, will-choice of another man.

Here and elsewhere, Locke uses "arbitrary" not in the nowtide feeling of something like "chosen for no frume" 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 milts of whatever he chooses to do to you, whether or not his choice is "arbitrary" in the nowtidely feeling.

In this oversetting into Anglish, "will-choicely" is brooked for this kind of "arbitrary", which comes from a loan oversetting of New High German "willkürlich" and Dutch "willekeurig", each meaning "grounded on sunder choice or deeming". On the other hand, the reader may bethink Locke's understanding of "arbitrary" by way of the cwide, "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 be (cleaving 16). He goes on:

This freedom from utter will-choicely reding, is so needful to a man's beliving, 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, will-choicely reding 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 his 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, will-choicely, 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 dow to kill him.

Indeed, the lord of this kind of thew was so far from having a will-choicely 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 belive and thus a right to food and drink and such other things as the earth yields for their underpinning, or unhealing, 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 undersetting 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 cwemeness. The earth and everything in it is given to men for the bearing and frovering of their being.

All the ovet it kindsomely 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 fettle.

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 borders, 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 beowned them to himself! Nobody can gainsay that the fostering 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 swotel 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 bestowed 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 beowned, 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 bestowed upon them. We see the ofhandling I am upholding at work in our own fellowship. When there is some land that has a shared standing - being held meanly 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 mean would be of no good.

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 staddled me as its owner.

29. If the outfold leave of every sharer was needed for anyone to beown to himself any deal 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 swith 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 staddled 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 bane 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, for 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 beown 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 beowning of a plot of land by forbettering it wasn't done at the cost of any other man, for 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 neet 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 cwemenesses 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 rake and ought not to worry himself with what had already been forbettered by someone else's work. If he did, it would be swotel 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 beown 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 standing 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 beowning. God bade man to work, and his wants indowed 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 mires to sunder ownership through mires to how much men can work and mires to how much they need. No man's work could tame or beown 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 bane 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 rake 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 miscweming anybody, for 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 beown 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 cwemenesses 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 understated the waresomeness of forbettered land, setting it at ten to one when forsooth 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 ovet 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 ovet rotted or the deer meat befouled before he could brook it - he breached the shared ordlaw, and ought to be strafed. For he had oncrooked his neighbor's share, for he had no right to these things beyond what good they could be to him to afford him cwemenesses 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 neeted before it rotted; and to whatever wights he enclosed, fed, and neeted. But if the grass of his enclosure rotted on the ground, or the ovet 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 mires of their shedded ledemarks, thwared on borders between them and their neighbors, and staddled 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 neeting 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 forwends 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 forbettering brought about by work makes most of the spare worth of the former.

It would be a truly forwatchsome guess 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 guess 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', for 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 steps 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 bestows 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 staddle 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 swotel that though the things of the earth are given to share, man had in himself the great groundwork 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 froverworthy, 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 neets. 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 brook 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 beliving - 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 cwemely 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 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 upholding 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. Huy 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 ovets, 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 cwemenesses 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 ken, 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 cwemeness 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 untruthful for him to carve out too much or take more than he needed.

Heading 6: Fatherly Dow

52. You may think that a work like this one is not the stead for rakes about works and names that have become tidely; but I think it won't be a amiss to give new words when the old ones are fit to lead men into mistakes. The cwide 'fatherly dow' is likely a byspell of this.

It seems so to put the dow of elders over their children wholly in the father, as though the mother had no share in it; whereas wisdom and unhealing both tell us that she has a likewise deed. Might it not be better to call it 'elderly dow'?

Whatever owings are laid on children by birth and the right of begetting must wisly bind them likewise to each of the tied frumes of their being begotten. And forfollowingly we see the forthput low of God everywhere links the elders together, without undershed, when it bids the hearsomeness of children. Locke gives four byspells from the Old and New Witnesses.

53. Had only this one thing been thought about fittingly, even without going any deeper, it might have kept men from running into the gross mistakes they have made about this dow of elders. When under the label 'fatherly dow' it seemed to belong only to the father, it could be bewritten as 'overall lordship' and as 'kingly right' without seeming laughable; but those cwides would have seemed outlandish, and in the swith name shown the foolishness of the teaching, if this underset overall dow over children had been called 'elderly', for that would have given away the truth that it belonged to the mother too.

Those who fight so much for the for 'the overall dow and right of fatherhood' as they call it, will be in hardships if the mother is given any share in it. The kingdom they fight for wouldn't be well upheld if the swith name showed that the groundlaying right from which they want to draw their redeship by only one man belonged not to one man but to two! But no more about names.

54. I said in Heading 2 that all men are by birth the same, but sickerly I didn't mean samehood in all ways. Age or douth may put some men above others; lofty skill and meed may raise others above the mean height; some may owe yielding to others for the sake of their birth, or from thanksgiving for the sake of boons they have gotten, or for other frumes.

But all this is evenhearted with the samehood that all men have beteeing leedred or lordship over one another. That was the samehood I spoke of in Heading 2 - the samehood that is helpful to the business in hand, namely the same right that every man has to his inborn freedom, without being underthrown to the will or right of any other man.

55. I acknowledge that children are not born in this stead of full samehood, though they are born to it. Their elders have a sort of rede and leedred over them when they come into the world and for some time after that, but it's only a short-lived one. The bonds of this underthrowing are like the swaddling clothes they are wrapped up in and upheld by in the weakness of their bairnhood; as the child grows up, age and wisdom loosen the ties, until at last they drop off altogether and leave a man to his own howes.

56. Adam was made as a whole man, his body and mind in full ownership of their strength and wisdom; so he could, from the first eyeblink of his coming into being, to howe for his own upholding and beliving, and to rede his deeds by the words of the law of wisdom that God had deeply seated in him.

The world has been befolked with his get, who are all born bairns, weak and helpless, without knowledge or understanding. To make up for the flaws of this unwhole stead until the forbettering of growth and age has drawn them out, Adam and Even and all elders after them were tied by the ordlaw to forlast, foster, and bring up the children they had begotten - not as their own workmanship, but as the workmanship of their own maker, the almighty God to whom they were to be foranswerly for them.

57. The law that was to rede Adam was the swith one that was to rede all his afterfollowers, namely the law of wisdom. But his offspring came into the world shedwise from him, namely by earthly birth, which brought them out unlearned and without the wield of wisdom. So they were not right away under the law of wisdom, for nobody can be under a law that hasn't been made known to him; and this law is made known only by reason, so that someone who hasn't come to the use of his reason can't be said to be under it.

Adam's children, not being under this law at birth, were not free at that time; for law, fittingly understood, is not so much the mire as the leading of a free and clever doer to his fitting good, and doesn't forewrite anything that isn't for the broad good of those under that law.

If men could be happier without, the law would be an unneeted thing and would unformithely forswind. Don't think of the law as hafting: it is wrong to label as a haft something that hedges us in only from swamps and cliffs!

So, however much folk may get this wrong, what law is for is not to unmake or fetter freedom but to forlast and forgreaten it; for in all the steads of made beings who are graspworthy of laws, where there is no law there is no freedom.

Freedom is freedom from fetters and wald by others; and this can't be had where there is no law. This freedom is not - as some say it is - a freedom for every man to do whatever he wants to do (for who could be free if every other man's whims might overtake him?); rather, it is a freedom to deal out in any way he wants of his body, his deeds, his belongings, and his whole ownership - not to be underthrown in any of this to the choicely will of anyone else but freely to follow his own will, all within whatever borders are set by the laws that he is under.

58. So the dow that elders have over their children arises from their owing to take care of their offspring in the unwhole stead of childhood. What the children need, and what the elders must give, is the shaping of their minds and the reding of their deeds; that is while the children are still young and unlearned; when wisdom comes into play the elders are freed from that burden.

God gave man an understanding to lead his deeds, and (fitting in with that) aleaved him a freedom of will and of deed within the mires set by the law he is under. But while he is in a fettle in which he hasn't enough understanding to lead his will, he isn't to have any will of his own to follow. The man who understands for him must will for him too; that man must forewrite to his will and steady his deeds; but when he reaches the fettle that made his father a freeman, the son is a freeman too.

59. This holds in all the laws a man is under, whether ordly or burgherly. Let us look at these sunderly. If a man is under the ordlaw, what made him free under that law? What gave him freedom to deal out his belongings by his own will, within the mires set by that law? I answer, a state of ripeness in which he could keep his deeds within the mires set by it.

When he has gone into that stead, he is athristed to know how far that law is to be his lead, and how far he may neet his freedom; and so he comes to have that freedom. Until then, he must be led by somebody else who is athristed to know how far the law aleaves a freedom. If such a stead of wisdom, such an age of free deeming, made him free, the same stead will make his son free too.

If a man is under the law of England, what made him free under that law? That is, what gave him the freedom to deal out his deeds and belongings as he wishes, within the mires of what that law aleaves? I answer, a heldth for knowing that law - a heldth which the law itself undersets to be there at the age of twenty-one and in some befallings sooner.

If this made the father free, it will make the son free too. Till then we see the law aleaves the son to have no will: he is to be led by the will of his father or warder, who is to do his understanding for him. And if the father dies and fails to aset an offsider in his stead, or if he doesn't give a teacher to rede his son while he is a child who lacks understanding, the law takes care to do it.

Someone else must rede him and be a will to him until he has reached a stead of freedom, and his understanding has become fit to take over the reding of his will. But after that the father and son are likewise free, as are a teacher and his learner after the learner has grown up. They are likewise undertans of the same law together, and the father has no leftover lordship over the life, freedom, or homestead of his son. This holds, whether they are only in the ordstead and under its law or under the forthput laws of a bestaddled redeship.

60. But if, through flaws that happen out of the wonted unfolding of life, someone never fulfills a step of wisdom that would make him graspworthy of knowing the law and so living within the guidelines of it, he is never graspworthy of being a free man, he is never aleaved freely to follow his own will (because he knows no mires to it, doesn't have the understanding that is the will's fitting lead), but goes on under the teaching and redeship of others for as long as his own understanding cannot take over.

And so madmen and halfwits are never freed from the redeship of their elders. The cleaving goes on with a calling from Hooker, saying the same thing, and the marking that all this comes from an owing - given by birth and by God - to forlast one's offspring, and hardly gives witness that elders have 'kingly right'.

61. Thus we are born free, as we are born wise; not that we as newborn bairns can soothly brook either; age that brings wisdom brings freedom with it. So we see how inborn freedom is evenhearted with underthrowing to elders, both being grounded on the same firstlief.

A child is free by his father's deed, by his father's understanding, which is to rede him till he has an understanding of his own. The freedom of a grown man and the underthrowing of a not yet grown child to his elders are so evenhearted with one another, and so shedworthy, that the most blinded fighters for kingdom-by-right-of-fatherhood can't miss this undershed; the most stubborn of them can't hold that the two are twihearted.

I show now their evenheartedness with one another in light of Filmer's outlook of kingdom. Underset their teaching of kingdom were all true, and the right nowtidely erve of Adam were now known and by that name settled as a king on his seat, clothed with all the overall, unmired dow that Sir Robert Filmer talks of.

If this king were to die right after his erve was born, wouldn't the child - however free and lordly he was - be underthrown to his mother and caregiver, to teachers and reders, till age and teaching brought him wisdom and the skill to rede himself and others?

The needs of his life, the health of his body, and the shaping of his mind, would all need that he be led by the will of others and not by his own will. But will anyone think that this fetter and underthrowing would be twihearted with (or bereave him of) the freedom or lordship that he a had a right to, or gave away his anweald to those who had the redeship of him in his youth?

This redeship over him would only ready him the better and sooner for being a reder of others. If anybody should ask me when my son is of age to be free, I would answer: only when his king is of age to rede! As for settling when a man can be said to have gained enough wield of wisdom to be graspworthy of understanding and heeding those laws whereby he is then tied: this says the wise Hooker (Ecclesiastical Polity, Book 1, cleaving 6), is a great deal eathier for wisdom to ken than for anyone by skill and learning to settle roughly, 'eathier to tell by afanding of shedded befallings than to lay down broad outlookwise words.

62. Meanwealths themselves aleave that there is an age at which men are to begin to do like free men, so that before that age they aren't made to take oaths of trueness or in any way forspell the right of the redeship of their lands.

63. So a man's freedom - his freedom of doing evenhearted with his own will - is grounded on his having wisdom, which can teach him in the law he is to rede himself by, and by him know to what length he is left to the freedom of his own will. To turn him loose and give him full freedom before he has wisdom to lead him is not aleaving him his inborn sunderlaw of being free; rather, it is pushing him out among the lower wights and forsaking him to a stead as wretched and under-mankind as theirs is.

This is what gives elders the right to rede their children while they are lessers. God has made it their business to take this care of their offspring, and his built into them leanings to mildness and care so as to temper this dow, so that they will use the dow, for as long as the children need to be under it, for the children's good.

64. But what frume can there be to forgreaten the care that elders owe to their offspring into an overall, will-choicely behest of the father? Forsooth, a father's dow reaches only far enough to onset the teaching that he finds handy in giving his children the strong and healthy bodies and hale and right-thinking minds that will best fit them to be most neeted to themselves and others; and if it is needsome in the kindred's umstandness, to make them work, when they can, for their own livelihood. But in this down the mother too has her share with the father.

65. Indeed, this down is so far from being something that the father has by a shedded right of birth, rather than having it in his role as the warder of his children, than when his care of them comes to an end so does his dow over them. That dow is unsunderly tied to their nourishment and upbringing; and it belongs as much to the foster-father of a forsaken bairn as to the birth father of another child.

That's how little dow the bare deed of begetting give a man over his offspring: if all his care ends there, and his only calling on the name and right of a father is that he begot the child, his dow comes to nothing. And what will become of this fatherly dow in steads where one woman has more than one husband at a time? or in the deals of Americksland where when the husband and wife tosunder (which happens often) the children all stay with the mother and are wholly cared for and given for by her?

If a father dies while the children are young, don't they always everywhere owe the same heed to their mother, during their childhood, a they would to their father if he were still alive? Wisly they do! And then, with 'fatherly dow' aset by 'motherly dow', the thought that reding dow comes from this wellspring becomes evne more sharply unbeliefworthy.

For huy: will anyone say that the widowed mother has a lawmaking dow over her children? that she can make laws that will tie the children throughout their lives, reding all intings having to do with ownership and freedom of deed? and that she can helmstand the heeding of these laws with foremost strafings?

All that lies within the rightwise sight of the law-giver, and the father doesn't even have the shadow of it! His behest over his children is only short-lived, and doesn't touch their life or ownership. Locke goes on in this streak, edsaying thoughts already said.

66. But though in ought time a child comes to be as free from underthrowing to the will and behest of his father as the father himself is free from underthrowing and will of anyone else, and each of them is under only the fetters that also tie the other - from the ordlaw and from the burgherly law of their land - this freedom that the son has doesn't outnim him from heeding his elders as he ought to do by the law of God and birth.

God having made the elders through their having children bestead as tools in his great outline of forlasting the strain of mankind, laid on them an owing to nourish, forlast, and bring up their offspring, and also laid on children an everlasting owing to heed their elders. This heed involves an inward worth and bewondering to be shown in all outward swettlings, so it holds the child back from anything that might ever harm or gall, unsettle or threaten, the happiness or life of those from whom he got his own life; and draws him into doing all he can for the warding, unburdening, help and frovering of those by whose means he came into being and has been made graspworthy of neeting life.

No stead - and no kind of freedom - can free children from this tie. But this is very far from giving elders a dow of behest over their children, or a right to make laws and deal out as they like of the children's lives or freedoms. It is one thing to be owed heed, aught, thanks, and help; another to need overall behest and yielding. A king on his seat owes his mother the heed any son owes his elders, but this doesn't lessen his right or berighten her to rede him.

67. Bethink these two truths: (1) While a child is a lesser, its father is for the time being in the stead of a reder - a stead that ends when the child becomes a man. (2) The child's owing of heed gives the elders an everlasting right to aught, bewondering, upholding, and yielding too, evenly meted to how much care, cost, and kindness the tather has put into the child's upbringing. This doesn't end with childhood, but holds throughout a man's life.

The trocking to undershed these two dows, namely,

the father's right of upbringing throughout childhood, and

the elder's right to be heeded, throughout his life,

may have begotten a great deal of the mistakes about this inting. But they are utterly shed from one another. Tightly speaking, the first of them is not soothly a right of elderly dow but rather a sunderlaw of children and an owing of elders.

The nourishment and teaching of their children is so much an owing of parents that nothing can unburden them from doing it; and though the dow of bidding and strafing children goes along with the owing, God has woven into the crafts at work in mankind such a softness for offspring that there is little risk of elders brooking their dow too harshly. ... Cleavings 68 - 71 edsay and bedeck the main underwarps of the heading up to here, without eking markworthy inhold.

72. Beyond the dows of sunderlaw betalked above, there is another dow that a father wontly has, which gives him a hold on the heed of his children. Although men broadly have this dow, the befallings for brooking it are nearly always within the sunder lives of kindreds; it seldom shows up anywhere else, and when it does it isn't much marked, which is why it is broadly taken to be a deal of fatherly leedred.

What I am talking about is the dow men broadly have to leave their homesteads to those who cweme them best. Children can foresee to erve from their father, wontly in bestevened metings by the law and wont of the land; but the father wontly has the dow to make bequests with a more or less givesome hand hanging on how much each child has behaved in ways that he has thwared with and liked.

73. This gives a huyworthy hold on the heed of children, and it ties with something that has been a main underwarp of this ofhandling, namely the stead of leave in redeship. I shall unfold. The neeting of land always inholds yielding to the redeship of the ledemark where the land is.

Now, it has meanly been underset that a father could give his offspring a binding tie to yield to the redeship of which he himself was an undertan, but this is wrong. The owing to yield to a redeship is only a forewarding of owning the land; and the erveship of a homestead that is under that redeship reaches only to those who will take on the homestead when it has that forewarding fastened to it.

So it is not an inborn tie or owing, but a willing yielding. Every man's children are by birth as free as the man himself or any of his forebears were, and while they are in that freedom they may choose what fellowship they will tie themselves to, what meanwealth they will yield to. But if they want to neet the erveship of their forebears, they must take it on the hems on which their forebears had it, and yield to all the forewardings tied to such ownership.

So this dow does indeed make worthy fathers to tie their children to heeding themselves even when they are grown, and most meanly to underthrow their children to this or that mootish might. But neither of these comes from any shedded right of fatherhood, but rather from owing the means to helmstand and meed such yielding to the father's wishes or to the laws of the meanwealth.

It is only the dow that a Frenchman has over an Englishman who hopes to erve his homestead: that hope wisly makes a strong tie on his heeding the Frenchman; and if the homestead is left to him, he can neet it only on the forewardings fastened to the ownership of land in the ledemark that inholds it, whether it be France or England.

74. ... All this notwithstanding, we cab see how eathy it was, at shedded times and steads, for the father of the kindred to become its king. This would be so when the world was young, and also today in some steads where the low befolking makes it mayly for the kindreds of the next begetting to spread out into the hedging lands and make homes for themselves in unbusied ledemark.

That makes a befalling in which a thoughtworthy rime of folk, in a bloodline from one living man, 'the father', are spread out over a thoughtworthy ledemark. Without some redeship it would be hard for them to live together, and their mean father had been a reder from the beginning of the bairnhood of his children; so the grown children were most likely - whether outfoldly or by wordless leave - to have him go on as reder.

The only shift from the earlier stead of intings is that they aleaved the father (and no-one else in the kindred) to have the ordlawly dow of followthrough, a dow that every free man kindly has, and by that leave giving him a kingly dow while they abided in it.

But this kingly dow within the outstretched kindred didn't come from any fatherly right but cleanly from the leave of the grown offspring. Underset that an outlander comes into the kindred's ledemark by luck or on business and, while there, kills a member of the kindred. ... No one twees that in such a befalling the father may fordeem the outlander and strafe him, with death or in some other way, only as he could strafe a misdeed by one of his children.

Now, in strafing the outlander he can't be wielding any fatherly right, for the outlander is not his child; so he must be doing by worth of the ordlawly dow of followthrough, which he had a right to not as a father but only as a man. Any of his grown children would also have had such an inborn right if they hadn't laid it aside and chosen to aleave this worthiness and right to belong to the father and to no-one else in the kindred.

75. Thus it was eathy, almost inborn, and all but unformithely, for children to give their wordless leave to the father's having right and redeship. They had been wonted in their childhood to follow his lead, and to bear their little undersheds to him; when they were grown up, who would be fitter to rede them? They hadn't much ownership, or much nith of one anothers' goods, so their 'little undersheds' hadn't become much bigger!

Where could they find a fitter tie-breaker than he by whose care they had all been upheld and brought up, and who had a softness for them all? ...

76. Thus the birth fathers of kindreds bit by bit became their burgherly kings as well. And when they happened to live long and have fit and worthy erves, they laid the groundwork for kingdoms - whether ervely or choicely - with sundry shedded kinds of lawframes and goings on, shaped by the outcomes of luck, afinding, and bestevened happenings.

But if kings are berighted to their seats for the sake of their rights as fathers, and if the inborn rights of fathers to reding right is shown by the mere truth that redeship has meanly been wielded by fathers, then by the swith same thought draught we can show that all kings - and indeed only kings - should be soothsayers, since it is as wis that in the beginning the father of the kindred was his household's soothsayer as that he was its reder.

In a footlog to cleaving 74 Locke calls a long plucking from Hooker, saying things alike to what Locke says in that cleaving, and betokening to 'the olden wont' whereby fathers became kings and also came 'to wield the needright of soothsayers'.

Heading 7: Mootish or Burgherly Fellowship

Yokish Fellowship

77. God having made man as a making who, in God's own deeming, ought not to be alone, drew him strongly by need, cwemeness, and leaning - into fellowship, and outfitted him with understanding and words to keep fellowship going and to neet. The first fellowship was between were and wife, which gave rise to the fellowship between elders and children; to which in time the fellowship between reeve and shalk came to be eked.

All these could and often did meet together, and frame one kindred in which the reeve had some fitting kind of right. In Locke's day, 'kindred' meanly meant 'household', that is inholding the shalks. Each of these smaller fellowships, like the greater one of the whole household, fell short of being a mootish fellowship, as we shall see if we bethink the undershed ends, ties, and mires of each of them.

78. Yokish fellowship is made by a willing fordraught between man and woman. It mainly stands in the togetherness of bodies and right of drawing near to one another's bodies that is needed for begetting, which is its main sake; but it brings with it likewise upholding and help, and a togetherness of stakes too, this being needed to make one their care and fondness and also needed by their offspring, who have a right to be fostered and upheld by them till they are old enough to see to themselves.

79. The goal of bonding between he-kind and she-kind is not just begetting but the ongoing of the lifekin; meaning that it's not only to have children but to bring them up; so this link between he-kind and she-kind ought to last beyond begetting, so long as is needed for the fostering and upholding of the young ones. ...

This guideline that our unendingly wise maker has uplaid on his makings can be seen to be steadily heeded by the lower wights. In liveborn wights that feed on grass, the bonding of he-kind with she-kind lasts no longer than the mere deed of faying; as the she-wight's teat is enough to foster the young until they can feed on grass, all the he-wight has to do is to beget to get the she-wight heavy with young, and doesn't worry himself with the she-wight or with the young, to whose fostering he can't bypull anything.

But in flesheating wights the yoking lasts longer, as the mother cannot belive and foster her many offspring by her own spoils alone, this being a more worksome way of living than feeding on grass, as well as a more threatened one.

So the he-wight has to help to uphold their shared kindred, which can't belive unhelped until the young can hunt for themselves. This can be seen also with birds, whose young need food in the nest, so that the cock and the hen go on as mates until the young can fly, and can see to themselves. (The only outstander is some tamed birds; the cock needn't feed and take care of the young brood as there is enough food.)

80. This brings us to what I think is the highest if not the only frume why the he and she of mankind are bonded together for longer than other makings. It is this: long before a child of mankind can shift for itself without help from his elders, its mother can again conceive and bear another child; so that the father, who ought to take care for those he has fathered, is tied to go on in yokish fellowship with the same woman for longer than some other makings.

With makings whose young can make their own way the time of begetting comes around again, the yokish bond selfworkingly loosens and the elders are free, till Hymen the god of wedlock at his wontsome yearly time calls them again to choose new mates.

We have to aught the wisdom of the great maker, who gave man foresight and a skill to make readying for the hereafter as well as dealing with nowly needs, made it needsome that the fellowship of were and wife should be more lasting than that of he-kind and she-kind among other makings; so that their worksomeness might be onheartened and their stakes better made one to make bestowings and lay up goods for their shared offspring - a layout that would be mightily harried if the offspring had an unsound blending of bloodline or if yokish fellowship were often and eathily loosened.

81. But though there are these ties that make yokish bonds more stalwart and more lasting in mankind than in other lifekins of wights, it is still wise to ask:

Once begetting and upbringing have been fastened, and erveship laid out, why shouldn't this fordraught between were and wife be like any other willing fordraught? That is, why shouldn't its ongoing hang on the leave of the dealnimmers, or on the passing of some deal of time, or on some other foreward?

It is a wise asking as neither the fordraught itself or the sakes for which it was undertaken need that it should always be for life. (Unless forsooth there is a forthput law faststelling that all such draughts be everlasting. See the unfolding of 'forthput' in cleaving 1 of heading 1.

82. Though the were and wife have one shared stake, they have undershed sights about things and so unformithely they will sometimes undershed in what they want to be done. The last choice on any working frain has to rest with someone, and it kindsomely falls to the man's share, for he is the fitter and the stronger of the two.

But this holds true only for things in which they have a shared stake or ownership; it leaves the wife with the full and free ownership of what by draught is her sunder right, and gives the were no more dow over her life than she has over his!

The were's dow is so far from that of an utter king that the wife is in many befallings free to sunder from him, where inborn right or their draught aleaves it - whether that draught is made by themselves in the ordstead, or made by the wonts or laws of the land they live in. When such a sundering happens, the children go to the father or to the mother, hanging on what their draught says.

83. All the goals of wedlock can be won under mootish redeship as well as in the ordstead, so the burgherly reeve doesn't breach into any of the were's or the wife's rights or dows that needsomely cling to those goals, namely begetting and likewise upholding and help while they are together.

He comes into the frame only when called upon to settle any gainwending that may arise between were and wife about the goals at hand. Locke goes on to say that 'utter overlordship and dow of life and death' doesn't belong to the were by birth, for this isn't needed for the goals for which wedlock bestands; and that if it were needed for that, wedlock would be unmayly in lands whose laws forbid any sunder burgher to have such right.

84. As for the fellowship between elders and children, and the undershed rights and dows belonging to each: I betalked this fully enough in heading 6, and needn't say more about it here. I think it wis that yokish fellowship is far undershed from burgherly fellowship.

Household Redeship Broadly

85. 'Lord' and 'thew' are are names as old as yore, but swith undershed maythhoods can be marked by them. A free man may make himself a thew to someone else by selling' to him for a boded time the theenhod that he undertakes to do, in trade for wages he is to get. This often puts him into the household of his lord, and under its wontsome teaching, but it gives the lord a dow over him that is short-lived and is no greater than what is held in the draught between them.

But there is another kind of thew to which we give the shedded name 'thrall'. A thrall is someone who, being a haftling taken in a right war, is by the right of birth underthrown to the utter bidding and will-choicely dow of his lord. A thrall has forlorn his life and with it his freedom; he has lost all his goods, and as a thrall he is not fit to have any ownership; so he can't in his fettle of thralldom be thought as any deal of a burgherly fellowship, the first goal of which is the forlasting of ownership.

86. Let us then bethink a lord of a kindred with all these lesser maythhoods of wife, children, thews, and thralls, all brought together under the broad name of 'the household rede of a kindred'. This may look like a little meanwealth in its makeup and guidelines, but it is truly far from that in its framing, its dow and its goal.

Locke goes on by saying that if it were a kingdom, it would be an outstandingly fettered one. Then: But how a kindred or any other fellowship of men undersheds from a mootish fellowship, fittingly so-called, we shall best see by bethinking what mootish fellowship is.

Mootish Fellowship

87. As I have shown, man was born with a right to whole freedom, and with an unbridled neeting of all the rights and sundergifts of the ordlaw, likewise with any other man or men in the world. So he has by birth a dow not only to forlast

his ownership,

that is

his life, freedom and belongings,

against harm from other men, but to deem and strafe breaches of the ordlaw by others - strafing in the way he thinks the misdeed meeds, even straging with death misdeeds that he thinks are so dreadful as to meed it. But no mootish fellowship can bestand or forlast without having in itself the dow to forlast the ownership - and therefore to strafe the misdeeds - of all the dealnimmers of that fellowship;

and so there can't be a mootish fellowship but where everyone one of the dealnimmers has given up this inborn down, passing it into the hands of the fellowship in all befallings. ...

With all sunder deemings of every bestevened dealnimmer of the fellowship being outshut, the fellowship comes to be the shedrighter. It does in this deedwork evenhearted with settled standing guidelines, unslantedly, the same to all dealnimmers; doing through men who have right from the fellowship to forwend those guidelines.

This 'shedrighter' settles all the bickerings that may arise between dealnimmers of the fellowship beteeing any inting of right, and strafes misdeeds that any dealnimmer has wrought against the fellowship, with strafes that the law has staddled. This makes it eathy to tell who are and who aren't dealnimmers of a mootish fellowship. Those who

are forgathered into one body with a shared staddled law and rightnessmoot to beseech, with right to settle gainwendings and strafe misdoers,

are in burgherly fellowship with one another; whereas those who

have no such shared beseeching (I mean: no such beseeching here on earth)

are still in the ordstead, each having to deem and to bear out the ordeal, for there isn't anyone else to do those things for him.

88. That's how it comes about that the meanwealth has the dow of making laws: that is, the dow to set down what strafes are fitting for what misdeeds that dealnimmers of the fellowship wreak; and the dow of war and frith: that is, the dow to strafe any harm done to any of its dealnimmers by anyone who isn't a dealnimmer;

all this being done for the forlasting of ownership of all the dealnimmers of the fellowship, as far as mayly. Mark the broad meaning given to ownership near the start of cleaving 87. Every man who has come into the burgherly fellowship has thereby yielded his dow to strage misdeeds against the ordlaw on the grounds of his own sunder deeming, giving it to the lawmoot in all befallings;

and along with that he has also given to the meanwealth a right to call on him to forwend his strength for the bearing out of its deemings, (which are truly his own deemings, for they are made by himself or by his spokesman). So we have the undershed between the lawmaking and outbearing dows of burgherly fellowship.

The former are used to

deem, by standing laws, how far misdeed wrought within the meanwealth are to be strafed;

the latter are used to

settle by now and again deemings grounded on bestevened umstands, how far harms from outside the meanwealth are to be wrought.

Each limb of a meanwealth's dow can forwend all the strength of all its dealnimmers, when there is a need for it.

89. Thus, there is a mootish (or burgherly) fellowship when and only when a rime of men are forgathered into one fellowship in such a way that each of them forgoes his outbearing dow of the ordlaw, giving it over to the folk. And this comes about wherever a rime of men in the ordstead come into fellowship to make one folk, one burgherly body, under one overall redeship.

(A man can become a dealnimmer of a meanwealth without being in on its making, namely when someone ties himself to a meanwealth that is already bestanding. In doing this he berightens the fellowship - that is berightens its lawmoot - to make laws for him as the folkish good of the fellowship shall need. ...)

This takes men out of the ordstead into the stead of a meanwealth, by setting up a deemer on earth with right to settle all the gainwendings and set right the harms that are done to any dealnimmer of the meanwealth. ...

Any band of men who have no such settling dow to beseech are still in the ordstead, notwithstanding any other kind of maythhood they have with one another.

Utter Kingdom

90. This make it swotel that utter kingdom, which some people see as the only true redeship in the world, is indeed twihearted with burgherly fellowship and so can't be a shape of burgherly redeship at all! Bethink what burgherly fellowship is for. It is set up

to formithe and salve the drawbacks of the ordstead that unformithely follow from every man's being deemer in his own befalling, by setting up a known right which every dealnimmer of that fellowship can beseech when he has been harmed or is whelmed in a bickering - a right that everyone in the fellowship ought to heed.

So any folk who don't have such a right to beseech for the settling of their bickerings are still in the ordstead. Thus, every utter king is in the ordstead beteeingwise to those who are under his lordship. Locke has a long footnote edcalling a forayesome plucking from Hooker. Another such is fastened to the next cleaving, and two to cleaving 94.

91. For an utter king is underset to have both lawmaking and outbearing dow in himself alone; so there is no deemer or hove to beseech that can fairly, unslantedly, and rightly make settlings that could give help and forgooding for any harm that may be wrought by the king or at his behest.

So such a man - call him Overking or Great Lord or what you will - is as much in the ordstead beteeingwise to his undertans as he is beteeingwise to the lave of mankind.

This is a shedded befalling of the ordstead, for between it and the wontsome ordstead there is this undershed, a woeful one for the undertan (truly, the thrall) of an utter king: in the wontsome ordstead a man is free to deem what he has a right to, and to brook the best of his might to hold onto his rights; whereas in an utter kingdom, he not only has no one to beseech but he isn't even free to deem what his rights are or to shield them (as though he were a cat or a dog, that can't think for itself).

He is, in short, laid bare to all the woe and uncwemenesses that a man can fear from someone who is in the unfettered ordstead and is also befouled with flattery and fitted with might.

92. If you think that utter dow cleanses men's blood and straightens the lowness of mankind, read of yore - of this or any other age - and you'll be overtold witherward. A man who would have been loathsome and scathel in the woods of Americksland isn't likely to be much better on a king's seat! Mayly even worse, for as an utter king he may have at hand learning and belief that will 'berighten' everything he does to his undertans, and the might of weapons to hush straightaway all those who dare becall his deeds. ...

93. In utter kingdoms, as well in other redeships in the world, the undertans can beseech the law and have deemers to settle bickerings and fetter wald among the undertans. Everyone thinks this to be needsome, and believes that anyone who threatens it should be thought a forkithed foe to fellowship and mankind.

But does this come from a true love of mankind and fellowship, and from goodwill that we all owe to one another? There is frume to think that it doesn't. There is swith no more to it than what any man who loves his own might, gain, or greatness will kindsomely do to forestall fights among wights that work and drudge only for his cwemeness and boon, and so are taken care of not out of any love the lord has for them but out of love for himself and for the gain they bring him.

If we ask 'What soundness, what hedge, do we have to foreheal us from the wald and thrutchness of this utter reder?', the swith frain is found to be almost unbearable. They are ready to tell you that even to ask about soundness from the king is a breach that meeds to be strafed by death.

Between undertans, they will behet, there must be guidelines, laws and deemers to beget likewise frith and fastness: but the reder ought to be utter, and is above all such thoughts; for he has dow to do more hurt and wrong, it is right when he does it! To ask how you may be warded from harm coming from the heading where the strongest hand is nearby to do it is to brook the reard of band and uprising;

as if when men left the ordstead and came into fellowship they thwared that all but one of them should be under the fetter of laws, and that that one should keep all the freedom of the ordstead, forgreatened by might, and made wanton by strafelessness.

This infolds that men are so foolish that they would take care to formithe harms from polecats or foxes, but think it is soundness to be eaten by lewcats.

94. But whatever may be soothingly said to befuddle folk's understandings, it doesn't stop men from feeling. And when they see that any man is outside the borders of the burgerly fellowship to which they belong, and that they have no beseeching on earth against any harm he may do to them, they are fit to think they are in the ordstead beteeing that man, and to take care as soon as mayly to edgain the soudness and fastness in burgerly fellowship which was their only frume for coming into it in the first stead.

This holds for any such man, whatever his standing in life - whether is a king or a street-sweeper. In the early steps of a meanwealth it may happen (this being something I shall betalk more fully later on) that one good and outstanding man comes to be foremost, his goodness and douth making the others to yield to him as to a kind of inborn right; so that by everyone's wordless leave else he comes to be the head shedrighter of their bickerings, with no forecare taken against his misbrooking that dow beside their trust in his uprightness and wisdom.

The tale could unfold from there in the following way. The careless and unforeseeing sacklessness of the first years of fellowship - which I have been bewriting - staddle wonts of yielding to one sunder man; some of the afterfollowers to the first foremost man are much lesser than he; but the flow of time gives right to wonts (some say it makes them holy), and so the wont of yielding to one stays put.

In time the folk find that, although the whole frume of redeship is the forlasting of ownership, their ownership is not sound under this redeship; and they find that the only way for them to be sound and without worry - the only way for them to think they are in a burgherly fellowship - is for the lawmaking dow to be given to a forgathered body of men, call it an 'eldermoot', 'lawmoot', or what you will.

In this way every sunder man - from the highest to the lowest - comes to be under the laws that he himself, as part of the lawmoot, has staddled. No one has right to take himself outside the reach of the law once it has been made; nor can anyone by any calling of betterness beg outnimming from the laws, so as to aleave misdeeds against it by himself or his onhangers.

No man in burgherly fellowship can be outnimmed from its laws; for if any man can do what he thinks fit, and there is no beseeching on earth for forbettering or forehealing against any harm he may do, isn't he still wholly in the ordstead, and so not a deal or dealnimmer of that burgherly fellowship?

The only way to formithe the answer 'Yes' is to say that the ordstead and burgherly fellowship are one and the same thing, and I have never yet found anyone who is so keen for lawlessness that he would foraye that.

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", for they are not brooked in this leaf writ.

Chancery English	Kind	Anglish	Wellspring
accord	n	evenheartedness†	(cf. Latin accordāre)
accountable	adj	foranswerly*	(cf. NHG verantworlich, Du. verantwoordelijk)
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	v	put to use: forwend† pertain: hold true†	(cf. NHG verwenden) (from Latin perteneō, "to hold constantly")
appropriate	v	beown*	(cf. NHG aneignen)
arbitrary	adj	will-choicely† alternative: willy-nilly†	(cf. NHG willkürlich, Du. willekeurig)
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")
capable	adj	graspworthy	(cf. Latin capābilis, from capiō "to take, to understand" +‎ -ābilis "-able")
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* cwemeness*	(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	cwemeness*	(<OE cwēmnes, cwēman, "to gratify, satisfy"; cognate of NHG Bequemlichkeit, "comfort")
convict	v	befind†	(<ME befinden)
convince	v	overtell alternative: overrede†	(<OE ofertalian) (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†
discord	n	twiheartedness*	from "twiminded" + Latin cors "heart"
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	berighten† alternative: rightready†	(cf. NHG berechtigen) (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")
ordain	v	faststell†	(cf. Du. vaststellen, from vast- "fast, fixed, firm" + stellen "stell, set, place", see: stell )
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	adj	lesser* alternative: undersheened	(cf. Du. onder "under" + geschikt, past participle of schikken "arrange, order"; cognate of OE scēon "happen")
subordinate to	prep	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: ofhandling*	(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")
umpire	n	shedrighter* tiebreaker*	(cf. NHG Schiedsrichter, schieds "difference" + richter "judge")
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)