For the present, then, I forgive your impertinence! but I impignorate my promise to make sausages of your intestines if you ever bore me again with your pig-my prittle prattle.

My chiefest spite to clergy is, / Who in these days bear sway; / With fryars and monks, with their fine sprunks, / I make my chiefest prey.

The busy orator and mother of two couldn't get around to her unfinished speech.

… adjacent is a clerk's room, with filing cabinets.