Cain. For thee, my Adah, I choose not—It was

Born with me—but I love nought else.

Adah.‍Our parents?

Cain. Did they love us when they snatched from the Tree

That which hath driven us all from Paradise?

Adah. We were not born then—and if we had been,

Should we not love them—and our children, Cain?

Cain. My little Enoch! and his lisping sister!

Could I but deem them happy, I would half

Forget——but it can never be forgotten440