Let me not see my offspring fall into

The snares beyond the walls of Paradise,

Which even in Paradise destroyed his parents.

Content thee with what is. Had we been so,

Thou now hadst been contented.—Oh, my son!

Adam. Our orisons completed, let us hence,

Each to his task of toil—not heavy, though

Needful: the earth is young, and yields us kindly

Her fruits with little labour.

Eve.‍Cain—my son—50