Husband or no husband, ye've got a stomach, and ye must een eat.

There's fesh and there's fowl--or, maybe, ye'll be for the sheep's head singit, when they've done with it at the tabble dot ?" There was but one way of getting rid of him: "Order what you like," Anne said, "and leave the room." Mr.Bishopriggs highly approved of the first half of the sentence, and totally overlooked the second.
"Ay, ay--just pet a' yer little interests in my hands; it's the wisest thing ye can do.

Ask for Maister Bishopriggs (that's me) when ye want a decent 'sponsible man to gi' ye a word of advice.

Set ye doon again--set ye doon.

And don't tak' the arm-chair.