1. Thy neighbor shalt not feel the gust of thy breath.

1. Thy neighbor shalt not feel the gust of thy breath.

“When somebody camps out a little too close,” says Julie Hennebury of Hough’s Neck, as she lounges on Duxbury Beach in the shade of a beach umbrella, “you just want to pack up and leave.”

2. Littereth not, lest ye be forced to eat thy detritus.

“Pick up after yourself and take your trash with you when you leave,” says

Joe Hennebury, before drifting into a reminiscence of orange crush soda and hot dogs at Nantasket Beach when he was a boy.

3. Thou shalt not pollute the air with the Camel’s stench (or that of his friends).

“People shouldn’t smoke at the beach,” says 27-year-old Danielle Webb, who abandons Halifax for Duxbury Beach’s clean air on hot summer days, and also appreciates the beach’s snack bar and relative dearth of rocks.

4. Thy offspring shall be as angels.

“Screaming kids” are one of a beach’s greatest scourges, say three 17-year-old Marshfield High seniors.

5. If thou art a tourist, thou shalt crawl humbly into a corner and stay there.

“Tourists crowd the beach and they trash it,” explains one of the Marshfield High contingent, expressing the possessive ownership that all locals feel for their home seashore.

6. Thy music shall be as the angel’s whisper.

“There’s no loud music any more,” say a Connecticut couple, expressing the delightfulness of Rexhame beach since other denizens of the sand improved their behavior. The couple laid claim to a summer home in Marshfield 22 years ago, earning them a certain measure of native status.

7. Thy games shalt not trespass upon the tranquility of others.

“And the volleyball net went away,” says the female half of the Connecticut contingent, enumerating another recent enhancement, even more welcome since she and her husband retired. “Now we get to play all summer,” adds her husband, clouding the issue.

8. Thou shalt not return glass to its original element.

“Don’t bring glass on the beach,” says Peter Wilk, who brings his family to Rexhame for a week every year and desires that they not suffer the pain and potential danger of a sliver of glass piercing the skin.

9. Thy canine shall be spared the sting of sand and the burn of sun.

Dogs, even on a leash, are not acceptable on public sand, says Peter Wilk, before eerily echoing Joe Hennebury. “Are they going to clean up after themselves?”

10. Thy towel shalt not send the sand typhoon upon thy neighbors.

We made this one up, but y’all know who you are. Knock it off.