And wel his merits ſhew him to be made His Fortunes maiſter, and the king of men. That could perſwade at ſuch a ſodaine pinch, With reaſons of his valour and his life, A thouſand ſworne and ouer-matching foes:

You can lightly massage his perineum (taint, bonch, grundle, nifkin, whatever it is you kids call it these days), or you can snap on a latex (or nitrile if either of you are allergic to latex) glove and go about two inches in and feel around for something the size of a walnut, and massage gently.

Peri handed Ptolemy his helmet. It had a crest on it, which she always thought looked quintessentially Roman.

In other words, they're messages that you want to read eventually, just not right now. Clearing away the bacon automatically can help you drill down to what's important more quickly.