Indeed Maggy, an ye be amind to marry, ye maun ſnod yourſel better up, caſt awa your ſtaff, ſinge your whiſkers wi’ a candle or ſir-ſtick, ſtand ſtraight up like a raſh, kekle an look canty-like whan carles is gawn by, tak a mouthfu’ o’ good meat, and a drap dram i’ the mornin will keep the dirt aff your face, and raiſe the red in your cheek, ye ſee the hens turns ay red lugget or they begin to lay: A body that wants a bit man, maun uſe mony a ſhift for ane, I ken how I did myſel, whan I was fourteen lang year a widow, an thought ne’er to gotten ane, I ſied our John whan he was a ſaft ſilly docus callan to ca’ the pleugh, and keepit him three years till he turn’d a wally whincer, and sain wad I had him, but he wadna ſpeak o’t to me, but ae day we ware in the houſe our lane, an I ties a good hard ſtane-knot on the ſtrings o’ my toy beneath my chin, and ſykes wit a-wee, then ſays, O Johnny, my man, look an ye can louſe this knot, wi’ your teeth, he lays a hand on every ſhouther an louſes the knot, an I grips him by the twa lugs, an gies him a kiſs, an ſays, Poor man Johnny, thou has a ſweet breath, thou needſna want a bit kiſs o’ me whan thou likes lad, I true that culli’d him hither ay the mair, Ha, ha, thou has nae art woman.
Enters Humphray Clinker, hearing a’ that paſt, perſuades his aunt Maggy, that no man would marry ſuch as her, for ſhe looked like a picture of death riding upon hunger’s back,
