stage, it is fair to credit it with a measure of amendment in regard both to rant and gag.  Of late years rant has certainly declined in public favour, and the “robustious perriwig-pated fellow” tearing a passion to tatters, to very rags, is a less familiar spectacle upon our boards than formerly; albeit, this statement is obviously open to the reply that the system of “o’er doing Termagant,” and “out-Heroding Herod” has ceased to prevail, inasmuch as the tragedies and vehement plays, which gave it opportunity and excuse, have vanished from the existing dramatic repertory.  And gag, except perhaps in relation to certain interpolations, which are founded upon enduring, if absurd, histrionic traditions, acknowledges stricter limitations than it once did.  A gagging Polonius, Dogberry, Gobbo, or Gravedigger could scarcely expect much toleration from a modern audience; while it is true enough, that these famous personages do not often present themselves upon the scene in these times.  As a rule, the gag of the present period is to be found mainly in those more frivolous and ephemeral entertainments, which are not much to be damnified by any excesses with which the comedians may be chargeable.

There is no gainsaying that in all times gag has been indulgently considered, and even encouraged by the majority of the audience.  Establishing relations of a most intimate kind with his audience, the comic actor obtains from them absolute licence of speech and conduct.  He becomes their “spoiled child,” his excesses are promptly applauded, and even his offences against good taste are speedily pardoned.

Of early gagging comedians, one of the most noted appears to have been Will Pinkethman, who flourished under William and Mary, and won honourable mention from Sir Richard Steele, in “The Tatler.”  Cibber describes Pinkethman as an imitator of Leigh, an earlier actor of superior and more legitimate powers.  Pinkethman’s inclination for “gamesome liberties” and “uncommon pleasantries” was of a most extravagant kind.  Davies says of him that he “was in such full possession of the galleries that he would hold discourse with them for several minutes.”  Nor could he be induced to amend his method of performance.  It was in vain the managers threatened to fine him for his exuberances; he was too surely a public favourite to be severely treated.  At one time he came to a “whimsical agreement” with Wilks, the actor, who suffered much from his playfellow’s eccentricities, that “whenever he was guilty of corresponding with the gods he should receive on his back three smart strokes of Bob Wilks’s cane.”  But even this penalty, it would seem, Wilks was too good-natured to enforce.  On one occasion, however, as Davies relates, Pinkethman so persisted in his gagging as to incur the displeasure of the audience.  The comedy was Farquhar’s “Recruiting Officer;” Wilks played Captain Plume, and Pinkethman one of the recruits.  The captain enlisting him inquired