_Eve._ Ah me, in me I am sure the one, one voice Goes somehow to the sense of what I say— The sense of disobedience to God. O Adam, some way, some time, we have done wrong, And when I think of this, I still must think Of Paradise, and of the stately tree Which in the middle of the garden grew, The golden fruit that hung upon its boughs, Of which but once we ate, and I must feel That whereas once in His continual sight We lived, in daily communing with Him, We now are banished, and behold not Him. Our only present communing, alas! Is penitential mourning, and the gaze Of the abased and prostrate prayerful soul; But you, yourself, my Adam, you at least Acknowledge some time somehow we did wrong. _Adam._ My child, I never even granted that. _Eve._ Oh, but you let strange words at times fall from you. They are to me like thunderbolts from heaven; I listen terrified and sick at heart, Then haste and pick them up and treasure them. What was it that you said when Cain was born? ‘He’s born of us and therefore is not pure.’ O, you corrected well, my husband, then My foolish, fond exuberance of delight. _Adam._ My child, believe me, truly I was the fool; But a first baby is a strange surprise. I shall not say so when another comes; And I beseech you treasure up no words. You know me: I am loose of tongue and light. I beg you, Eve, remember nought of this; Put not at least, I pray you—nay, command— Put not, when days come on, your own strange whim And misconstruction of my idle words Into the tender brains of our poor young ones. SCENE V. _Adam with Cain and Abel._ _Adam._ Cain, beware! Strike not your brother! I have said, beware! A heavy curse is on this thing, my son. With doubt and fear, Terror and toil and pain already here, Let us not have injustice too, my son. So Cain, beware! And Abel, too, see you provoke him not. SCENE VI. _Abel alone._