Now because I have often met with these _Hectors_ or Trepanning Villains, I think it will not be unsuitable to this present Discourse, to insert their Character.
The CHARACTER OF An _HECTOR_ or _TRAPAN_.
A Bawdy-house is his Cloyster, where he constantly says his Mattins. He is an Whores Protector, pretending himself more valiant then any of the antient _Heroes_, thereby thinking to take off the suspition of a Coward from himself: For the opinion of Valour, is a good protection to those that dare not use it. His frequent drawing his Sword upon any slight occasion, makes the ignorant suppose him Valiant; whereas he durst not do it, but when he is confident no danger will ensue thereon. He never strikes any, but such he is sure will not return his blows. In Company he is wonderful exceptious and cholerick, thinking in the fray some booty may be obtained: but his wrath never swells higher then when men are loth to give him any occasion: but the onely way to pacifie him, is to beat him soundly. The hotter you grow, the milder he is, protesting he always honoured you. The more you abuse him, the more he seems to love you: if he chance to be quarrelsome, you may threaten him into a quiet temper. Every man is his Master that dares beat him; and every one dares that knows him; and he that dares do this, is the onely man can do much with him. Yet if he knows a Coward, he will purposely fall out with him, to get Courtesies from him, and so be bribed into a reconcilement. Yet I cannot say but that he may fight, (if with great advantage) being so accustomed to the sight of drawn Swords, which probably may infuse something of a conceit into him; which he so magnifies by his own good opinion, that he would have people believe that the Mole-hill of his Prowess is no less then a Mountain. This little he hath, he is no Niggard in displaying; resembling some Apothecaries Shops, full of Pots, though little contained in them. His Estate lies in Contrivancies; and though other Landlords have but four Quarter-days, he hath three hundred sixty and odd to receive the fruits of his Stratagems. He is well skilled in Cards and Dice, which help him to cheat young Gulls newly come to Town; and the reason he usually gives for it, is, _A Woodcock must be pluckt ere he be drest_. If that will not do, he carries him to one of his Mistresses, and so both joyn to plume this Fowl: if there be not ready money to answer expectation, a Bond of considerable value shall serve turn, attested by two shall swear any thing for half a Crown. No man puts his brain to more use then he; for his life is a daily invention, and each meal a meer stratagem. He hath an excellent memory for his acquaintance; if there ever past but an _How do you?_ between him and another, it shall serve seven years hence for an embrace, and that for money. Out of his abundance of joy to see you, he offers a pottle of Wine; and in requital of his kindness, can do no less then make you pay for it: whilst you are drawing money, he fumbles in his pockets, (as School-boys with their points, being about to be whipt) till the Reckoning be paid, and says, _It must not be so_, yet is easily perswaded to it; and then cries, _Gentlemen, you force me to incivility_. When his Whores cannot supply him, he borrows of any that will lend him ought; of this man a shilling, and of another as much; which some lend him, not out of hope to be repayed, but that he will never trouble them again. If he finds a good look from any, he will haunt him so long, till he force a good nature to the necessity of a quarrel. He loves his Friend as one doth his Cloak that hath but one, and knows not how to get another; he will be sure to wear him thread-bare ere he forsake him. Men shun him at last as infection; nay, his old Companions, his Cloaths that have hung upon him so long, at length fall off to. His prayer in the morning is, That his Cheats may take effect that day; if not, that he may be drunk before night. He sleeps with a Tobacco-pipe in his mouth, and he dreams of nothing but Villany. If any mischief escapes him, it was not his fault, for he lay as fair for it as he could. He dares not enter into a serious thought, lest he hang himself; but if such melancholy seize him, the Drink is his refuge, and Drunkenness cures him. Lastly, he commonly dies like a Malefactor on the Gallows, or like _Hercules_ with fire in his bones. When hanged, if begged for an Anatomy, it would serve to convert Tobacco-smokers from delighting in the excess thereof: for they will find the funnel of his body, I mean his throat, furred and choakt up.