THE Bookseller has promised you a Parable, and a Parable you must have: Tho the Sub­ject of this Paper needs no Mask, yet for Fashion's sake we'll dress it up A­la-mode.

Not long ago a young English Spa­niel Bitch, called Phancy, was big with Puppies, and having gon [...] creeping and sniveling about as long as she was able to bear her Burthen, at last she Litter'd, and brought forth a par­cel of hopeful Male-Whelps, with­out ever calling for Lady Lucina's help: I cannot exactly remember their number, tho some say they were a Dozen; but I can tell you some of their Names; for they were soon Christened without either Parson or Godfather to assist at the Ceremony: There was Fopling, Drunkard, Game­ster, Tory-rory, Delicate, Amorous, Shar­per, and more that I have forgot.

They were fine forward Puppies to look upon, suck'd eagerly, and were mighty fond of their Dam. They soon got over their Nine Days Blind­ness, and began to play the Wanto [...] justling each other for Precedency whelking, snarling, curvetting, and twenty pretty Tricks besides.

It chanc'd that some of these Pup­pies, as soon as they were able to tra­vel, were sent beyond Sea to learn Fa­shions, how to Fetch and Carry, to beg with a boon Mien, jump over a Stick for the King, and the like. Now among the rest, Fopling was sent to France, where he learnt to fawn, wag his Tail with a Grace, lick, cringe, hunt a Duck, and all the Accomplishments fit for an English Spaniel; so that at his return for England, his Dam Phancy smelling to him, presently knew him to be her none dear Puppy; and there were a World of Endearments, Dog and Bitch Complements, fawning Hugs, Horse-Busses, and such like Ceremo­nies passed between 'em; and Fopling began to be some body in the Family, every Whelp was in love with his Carriage; he bark'd, hunted, fought, lick'd, cring'd and curvetted a-la-mode de Paris: All his Actions and his whole Air was French, so that he was set for a Pattern of Good-Breeding to all the Whelps of the Family. But no­thing proved so advantagious to his Whelp-ship's Person, as the Dress which he brought over with him from France. For it being the Fashion there for all the Puppies to be shav'd, and have Perukes made of Shock-Dogs long Hair, our English Spaniel, little Fop­ling, must needs be in the Fashion too, and gets him a swinging Shock Wig, which made him look vary gracefully, much like Trinkala's Monster in the Tempest, or like a Barbers Decoy-Block set out with polite Chedreuz, to draw Customers to the Shop. And if [...]ou'd know the Truth on't, 'tis this has [...]ade the Shock-Dogs so Currish ever [...]nce, to see themselves mock'd by e­ [...]ery Apish Spaniel.

However, little Fopling was mighti­ly admir'd for his Shock-Wig, and all the Whelps of his Litter were resolv'd to imitate his Example: Drunkard produc'd Physical Reasons for it, and said 'twas good for the Head-ach after a Debauch of Wine. Gamester and Sharper said, 'twas a Politick Fashion, a cunning Disguise for Rooks and Cheats. Tory-rory said, it made a Dog look Great, and created a re­spect in the Vulgar Whelps of the Neighbourhood. Delicate and Amou­rous pleaded, That it rendred the Face more amiable and charming. The rest of the Whelps also had their se­veral Reasons, and all agreed in this, That they would be in the Mode.

So they all went to Tonsor's, a Pup­py that had been bred in France, but now Kennel'd in the Neighbour­hood. His whole Gift lay in Lavering and Shaving the Whelps, in curling and crisping their Hair, washing, patching and painting their Mangy Faces, and making of Shock-Wigs. 'Tis incredible what a Trade Tonsor got in a small time among these Whelps, and the rest of the Litter. For in the first place, as soon as Fopling walk'd in a Morning, and shook his stinking Ears, was almost choak'd with his own Hogo, till he had sent for Puppy-Tonsor to perfume and powder him. Then for Drunkard, he was a Noun Adjective, and could hardly stand alone, till Puppy-Tonsor had with Comb, Wash-Ball, and Benjamin settled his Addle Brains. Neither could Tory-rory, Gamester or Sharper do any busi­ness, till they had pass'd through Ton­sor's Office. And as for Delicate and Amorous, they had no other Business to do, but to see and be seen, and therefore Tonsor's Art was as necessary to them, as their Meat and Drink. In [Page 3]fine, Tonsor's Office grew so much in Request, that at long run the better sort of Puppies would have none but Tonsors for their Valet-de-Chambre. For you must note by the way, that Bitch Phancy had Litter'd and Litter'd again for many years together, so that in time all England was stock'd with Puppies of the same Breed. You could not set your Foot in a Parish where there were not some of Phan­cy's Whelps, Puppies upon Puppies, Ton­sors upon Tonsors, and they multiplied so fast, that one Tonsor could hardly live for another.

I will not tire your Patience with any more of the Parable, but come to the plain English, the Intrin­sical Marrow-bone of the matter:

The Men do but make Rods for themselves, in lampooning Womens innocent Dresses: And the Author of the Top-Knots had better held his Peace, than provok'd a Female Pen a­gainst the Fops of his Sex; pretty Womanish things, that first taught us, and now exceed us in all manner of Effeminacy.

Is it not a pleasant and very divert­ing Spectacle, to see a Fellow, as soon as he is out of his Bed in a Morning, run to the Looking-Glass, and pay his first Devotions to the worshipful Figure of himself? To play the Nar­cissus with his own Shadow, and make his Court with an hundred and twenty Grimaces to his pretty Pigs-nies? Is it not a manly Exercise to stand licking his Lips into Rubies, painting his Cheeks into Cherries, patching his Pim-ginits, Carbuncles and Buboes? To see another striving to out-do Apelles in counterfeiting the lovely Eyebrow? A third to be two long Hours in careen­ing his Hair or Peruke? A fourth as tedious in adjusting his Crevat-string? Is it not very comical to see the Fop strutting up and down his Chamber, surveying himself from Head to Foot, first turning one Shoulder, then t'other, now looking fore-right in the Glass, then turning his Posteriors, tiffling with the Curls in his VVig, tying and untying his Crevat, writhing himself into as many Postures as he in the Pall-Mall; and yet after all his Fore­noon Speculation, not being satisfied, till he has consulted his flattering Valet? I will not trouble you with all the Im­pertinent Dialogue that passes be­tween 'em; but after they have Par­rotted over the Brandenburgh, Che­dreux, Escla't, Orangers, Picards, Pul­vilio, Rous, Surtout, and a deal more of Ribble Rabble, Pedlers French; and after Mounsieur Gnaw-bone has compleatly equip'd his Master en Che­valier, the spark sallies forth of his Chamber like a Peacock, beseeching the VVinds to favour his delicate Friz, and not put a Lock or a Curl out of Joynt. Then 'tis very edifying to mind how the Coxcomb angles for Ad­mirers: The good-natur'd Animal fanceis every Body's in Love with him, that casts an Eye on his Accomplish'd Phis'nomy and Dress as he walks a­long the Street, I should have said danc'd along, for he scorns to walk the vulgar Mechanick Pace.

You'd be no less taken with the Scene, when our Spark, as he is mov­ing along, like an Image of VVax, or Piece of Italian Clockwork, deeply oc­cupied in the Contemplation of this wonderful Fabrick, is suddenly accost­ed by a Friend out of the Country, whom he has not perhaps seen for a year together; what ducking, crin­ging and scraping there is between [Page 4]'em? You would think at first they were go­ing to unbuckle one anothers Shoes, so low go their Hands, as to touch each others Ankle! Then up they mount again, first over one Shoulder, and then over t'other, slabbering each others Cheeks like a couple of good-natur'd Colts, that take turns to lick one another where it itches; you'd swear they were Harlekin's Ba­stards, and were practising the Anticks. It must needs be a sweet Exercise for a couple of Pup­pies to brush one anothers Chaps with their bristled Beards! Especially when perfum'd with the odoriferous Scent of Tobacco.

Pursue him to the Coffee-House, where he generally takes his Mornings Draught, and youd find him either the Cypher, or the Single Ten of the Company. Either he sits like Jack Adams, and brings forth nothing but a few dull Stories, the Tackers together of other Mens Words; or if he ventures to let his em­pty Noddle take wind, all his Discourse is of Dresses, Pimps and Whores, or the like insigni­ficant Stuff, embroidered now and then with Oaths and God-d—mes, which renders him the Scorn of all Civil Company. Men of Sense Lampoon him to his Face, and he takes it for a Panegyríck: And the very Coffee-Boys having once found out the Gallants soft place, bur­lesques upon the Noble Squire, while the Silly Creature takes all this for Respect.

Trace him from thence to the Ordinary, or Eating-House; if he dines alone, he may pass for a wise Man, according to the old Rule, That a Fool cannot be known to be such by his si­lence. But if he engages with other Company, they make a double use of him, one to help their Digestion, by affording them continual matter of Laughter and Ridicule, and the other to pay the odd Mony of the Reckoning, which the easie Fop never refuses, that he may appear a complaisant and well-bred Gentleman.

And now his Belly's full, the Lambkin be­gins to grow wanton, and has a great mind to visit his Sempstress or Milliners Shop, on purpose to be admir'd by little Miss that sits behind the Counter, with whom he enters into a profound Chat about the newest Fashion for Crevats, what colour'd Ribband is most proper for that Sea­son? How deep Men wear their Ruffles? When he has run himself out of Breath with a Ca­talogue of the various Whim-whams, such Coxcombs as he wear about 'em, he makes a Parenthesis (by peeping in the Glass that hangs up in the Shop) finding fault with his Barber, Laundress, Taylor, &c. on purpose to draw her Eyes towards his Idolized Self. Here be­gins the Rehearsal of his Morning's Chamber­work: He picks a Quarrel with his Crevat, that he may engage pretty Miss to tie it anew for him, and then he has a fair Opportunity to make Love by a thousand little effeminate Tricks. Then his Ruffles don't sit to please him, and Miss is employed again. Here's ano­ther advantage, to shew his White Hand, whilst the fond Coxcomb falls in Love by the same methods which he uses to captivate her; and she laughs in her Sleeve at the ridiculous effe­minacy and softness of him, who might other­wise pass for a Man.

If he goes from hence to the Play-House on a Day when Sir Fopling Flutter, Sir Martin Mar­all, Sir Courtly Nice, or any other Comedy is Acted, that may serve as a Mirrour for him to see his own Folly in, He has hardly pati­ence to sit the first Act out; but as soon as that's over, he flies out of the Pit in a Huff, calls for his Half-Crown, plays the Critick, damns the Play, away he troops like a Knight-Errant to hunt for new Adventures; for he knows not what that Mechanick Thing, called Business, means. He strolls up and down the Streets, and is never out of his Road, so long as he's within Scent of a Tavern or Alehouse, where he may idly pass away his Hours, till the Even­ing Change Time calls for him to beat the Hoof in Fleetstreet, Cheapside, or the Strand, in pur­suit of some Female Bargain. But here's the Deel on't, tho he means well, yet his Luck's nought; for he is a Fumbler at Courtship, that the better sort of Night-Walkers put him out of Countenance, and he is forc'd either to take up with some Ordinary Pug, who [...]en to one picks his Pockets before she leaves him; or be­ing baulk'd in this important Design, he sneaks into some Coffee-House, to end the Day as he began it, and go Home to Bed the same Fop he rose.

After all this, Gentlemen, will you persist to libel Women, because they use some inno­cent Arts to reclaim you from these Follies? Believe me, our Towers and Top-knots are no other than Satyrs on your high crisp'd Wigs, and Dangling Locks, your Spruce Crevat-strings, Sword-knots, and the rest of your Finical Dress. I dare be bold to challenge you in the Name of all our Sex; begin you, and shew a good Ex­ample, leave off all this effeminate Clutter; a­bandon your Fopperies and Vices, and act like Men of Sense, and I'll engage the Women will quickly follow your Steps, and re-assuming the ancient Spirit and Valour of our renown'd An­cestors the Picts, we'll accompany you to the Wars, and make all the World to tremble at the Name of the English Amazons.