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