THE PARABLE OF THE PUPPIES: OR THE Topknots Vindicated.  
Licenced and Entered according to Order.  
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 A-la-mode.  
Not long ago a young English Spaniel Bitch, called Fancy, was big with Puppies, and having gon● creeping and snivelling about as long as she was able to bear her Burden, at last she Littered, and brought forth a parcel of hopeful Male-Whelps, without ever calling for Lady Lucina's help: I cannot exactly remember their number, though 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, sucked eagerly, and were mighty fond of their Dam. They soon got over their Nine Days Blindness, and began to play the Wanton justling each other for Precedency whelking, snarling, curvetting, and twenty pretty Tricks besides.  
It chanced 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 learned 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 Fancy smelling to him, presently knew him to be her none dear Puppy; and there were a World of Endearments, Dog and Bitch Compliments, 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 barked, hunted, fought, licked, cringed and curveted 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 advantageous 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 shaved, 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 Barber's 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 mocked by e●ery Apish Spaniel.  
However, little Fopling was mightily admired for his Shock-Wig, and all the Whelps of his Litter were resolved to imitate his Example: Drunkard produced Physical Reasons for it, and said 'twas good for the Headache after a Debauch of Wine. Gamester and Sharper said, 'twas a Politic 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 Amorous pleaded, That it rendered 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 Kenneled 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 walked in a Morning, and shook his stinking Ears, was almost choked 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, Washball, and Benjamin settled his Addle Brains. Neither could Tory-rory, Gamester or Sharper do any business, till they had passed 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 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 Fancy had Littered and Littered again for many years together, so that in time all England was stocked with Puppies of the same Breed. You could not set your Foot in a Parish where there were not some of Fancy's Whelps, Puppies upon Puppies, Tonsors upon Tonsors, and they multiplied so fast, that one Tonsor could hardly live for another.  
I will not tyre your Patience with any more of the Parable, but come to the plain English, the Intrinsical Marrowbone of the matter:  
The Men do but make Rods for themselves, in lampooning women's innocent Dresses: And the Author of the Topknots had better held his Peace, than provoked 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 Pigsneys? 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 outdo 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, than t'other, now looking foreright in the Glass, then turning his Posteriors, tiffling with the Curls in his Wig, 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 Brandenburg, Chedreux, Escla't, Orangers, Picards, Pulvilio, Rous, Surtout, and a deal more of Ribble Rabble, Pedlars French; and after Mounsieur Gnaw-bone has completely equipped his Master en Chevalier, the spark sallies forth of his Chamber like a Peacock, beseeching the Winds to favour his delicate Friz, and not put a Lock or a Curl out of Joint. Then 'tis very edifying to mind how the Coxcomb angel's for Admirers: The good-natured Animal fanceis every Body's in Love with him, that casts an Eye on his Accomplished Phis'nomy and Dress as he walks along the Street, I should have said danced along, for he scorns to walk the vulgar Mechanic Pace.  
You'd be no less taken with the Scene, when our Spark, as he is moving along, like an Image of Wax, or Piece of Italian Clockwork, deeply occupied in the Contemplation of this wonderful Fabric, 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 ' 'em? You would think at first they were going to unbuckle one another's 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-natured Colts, that take turns to lick one another where it itches; you'd swear they were Harlekin's Bastards, and were practising the Antics. It must needs be a sweet Exercise for a couple of Puppies to brush one another's Chaps with their bristled Beards! Especially when perfumed with the odoriferous Scent of Tobacco.  
Pursue him to the Coffeehouse, where he generally takes his Morning's Draught, and you'd find him either the cipher, or the Single Ten of the Company. Either he sits like Jack adam's, and brings forth nothing but a few dull Stories, the Tackers together of other men's 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 Godd— 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 Money of the Reckoning, which the easy Fop never refuses, that he may appear a complaisant and well-bred Gentleman.  
And now his Belly's full, the Lambkin gins to grow wanton, and has a great mind to visit his Sempstress or Milliners Shop, on purpose to be admired by little Miss that sits behind the Counter, with whom he enters into a profound Chat about the newest Fashion for Crevats, what coloured Ribbon 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, Tailor, etc. on purpose to draw her Eyes towards his Idolized Self. Here gins the Rehearsal of his Morning's Chamber-work: 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 show 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 Playhouse on a Day when Sir Fopling Flutter, Sir Martin Marall, Sir Courtly Nice, or any other Comedy is Acted, that may serve as a Mirror 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 Critic, damns the Play, away he troops like a Knight-Errant to hunt for new Adventures; for he knows not what that Mechanic 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, though 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 forced either to take up with some Ordinary Pug, who ●en to one picks his Pockets before she leaves him; or being balked in this important Design, he sneaks into some Coffeehouse, to end the Day as he began it, and go Home to Bed the same Fop he risen.  
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 Topknots are no other than Satyrs on your high crisped 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 show 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 reassuming the ancient Spirit and Valour of our renowned Ancestors the Picts, we'll accompany you to the Wars, and make all the World to tremble at the Name of the English Amazons.   

London, Printed for T. Burdet. 1691.