I have been dead and damn’d these seven years, and left your talkative bulkiness behind me as the only fit person in the town to succeed me in blustring bravadoes and non-killing skirmishes; and you like a lazy hulk, whose stupendious magnitude is full big enough to load an elephant with lubberliness, to sot away your time in _Mongo_’s fumitory, among a parcel of old smoak-dry’d cadators, and not so much since my departure, as cut a link-boy over the pate, pink a hackney-coachman, or draw your sword upon a cripple, to fill the town with new rumours of your wonted bravery, and make the callow students of the wrangling society wag their unfledg’d chins over their pennyworths of _Ninny Broth_? adds fleshly-wounds, in what sheeps-head ordinary have you chew’d away the meridian altitude of your tygerantick stomach? and where squander’d away the tiresom minutes of your evening-leisure, over seal’d _Winchesters_ of three-penny guzzle: that in all this time you have never exerted your hectorian talent, but keep your reputation mustying upon an old foundation, which is ready to sink, for want of being repair’d by some new notable atchievements. Do you think the obsolete renown of cutting off a knight’s thumb in a duel, and keeping on’t in your pocket three weeks for a tobacco-stopper; lying with the _French_ king in your travels, and kicking him out of bed for farting in his sleep; answering the challenge of a life-guardman for tearing a hole in his stocking with the chape of your sword when his jack-boots were on; gone where honour calls, behind _Southampton_ walls: return by five, if alive, _Hen. W----n_. disarming three highwaymen upon the road with two-pence half-penny in your pocket, and letting them go upon their parole of honour; wearing a wig for ten years together without losing the curl or combing out one hair; taking a tyger by the tooth; and the _Grand seignior_ by his whiskers; bearing an ensign in a mimick fight upon your atlantick shoulders; knocking a shiting porter down, when you were drunk, backwards into his own sir-reverence; your duel with _Johannes in nubibus_, in behalf of a lady you never set eyes on; your eating five shillings-worth of meat at a nine-penny ordinary, and at last treated by the man of the house to have no more of your custom; do you think these, or a hundred like antiquated exploits are sufficient to maintain the character of a stanch bully without new enterprizes? no, an old reputation is like an old house, which if not repaired often, must quickly fall of necessity to decay and will at last, by little, for want of new application, be totally obliterated.