This is the place where we first met.

Some fundies are picketing at the capitol.

Are there not Poiſons, Racks, and Flames, and Swords; / That Emma thus muſt die by Henry’s Words? / Yet what could Swords or Poiſon, Racks or Flame, / But mangle and disjoint this brittle Frame? / More fatal Henry’s Words; they murder Emma’s Fame.

In the Quatrain Reversed or Introverted, the first line corresponds with the fourth.