Pañca-sīla: The Five Training Precepts
Five undertakings a lay follower takes on for life. Adultery, murder, theft: three of these four match them almost word for word, right down to the order. The grammar differs, since a precept is a promise a person makes rather than an order handed down, like someone fencing their own field before anyone thinks to ask.
Abhijjhā: Covetousness
Greedy leaning toward what belongs to someone else. Coveting sits apart from the other three because nothing has happened yet: no blow, no theft, no one's bed. The eye rests on a neighbor's ox and the wanting starts there, and that alone counts as a deed, one of the ways a person acts with the mind before the hands move.
Attūpanāyika: Applying It To Oneself
Putting yourself in the other's place before you act. Loving a neighbor as yourself works out to a plain test: I want to go on living, so do they; I want what is mine left alone, so do they. Each prohibition can be rebuilt from that single comparison, which is how one saying comes to carry all of them at once.
Mettā: Loving-Kindness
Warmth that simply wishes another well. Love toward a neighbor here is not the fondness that arises for people you happen to enjoy; it is steady goodwill you extend to the person next door regardless. A mother watching over her only child is the old image for it, and the training is to widen that same care outward until the difficult neighbor stands inside it.
Cetanā: Intention
The willing that moves a deed. Commandments stack up one after another, each naming something done with the body, yet every one of them begins in the same place, in what the heart reaches for at the moment of acting. A heart already set on a neighbor's welfare has stopped producing adultery, killing, theft, and coveting on its own, which is why the many can fold into one.