My heart was slain, and none but you and I; 
Who should I think the murther should commit, 
Since but yourself there was no creature by, 
But only I, guiltless of murth'ring it? 
It slew itself; the verdict on the view 
Doth quit the dead, and me not accessary. 
Well, well, I fear it will be prov'd by you, 
The evidence so great a proof doth carry. 
But O, see, see, we need inquire no further: 
Upon your lips the scarlet drops are found, 
And in your eye the boy that did the murther; 
Your cheeks yet pale, since first he gave the wound. 
By this I see, however things be past, 
Yet Heaven will still have murther out at last.