There is something in obtrusive virtue that instinctively repels us. We always like a man’s face to be the index to the book of his heart, but when he would seem to have carefully turned down each leaf for our inspection, we get a revulsion of feeling—we like to look out the page for ourselves. An elevated sense of self-esteem was decidedly approved of by our forefathers, but its too demonstrative exhibition soon showed itself condemned in our ‘Prouds,’ ‘Prouts,’ ‘Proudmans,’ ‘Proudloves,’ and ‘Proudfoots’ (‘Hugh le Proud,’ A., ‘John le Prute,’ H., ‘George Proudelove,’ Z.Z., ‘Robert Prudefot,’ A.). A very interesting name which has escaped the notice of surname hunters is that of ‘Gerish’ or ‘Gerrish,’ both forms being found in our modern directories. They are but the truer representatives of the word ‘garish’ as used by our later poets. Shakespeare’s Juliet, we may remember, apostrophizes Night, and bids her, when Romeo be dead, cut him into stars, and thus— All the world will be in love with night, And pay no worship to the garish sun. This splendidly describes the term, expressing as it does that which glares ostentatiously and showily upon the eye. Lydgate, far earlier, had used it thus, in the form of ‘gerysshe;’ and such names as ‘Umfrey le Gerische’ or ‘John le Gerisse,’ found yet more remotely, testify to its once familiar and frequent use. We now talk of a prude as one who exaggerates woman’s innate modesty of demeanour. Formerly it denoted the virtue pure and untravestied. The root, the Latin ‘probus,’ excellent, still remains in our ‘Prudhommes’ (‘William Prodhomme,’ R., ‘Peter Prodhomme,’ A.), with their more commonly corrupted ‘Pridhams’ and ‘Prudames’ and ‘Prudens,’[545] a sobriquet which once referred simply to the honest and guileless uprightness of their owners. How truly do such words as these remind us of the poor estimate man, after all, forms of himself. Man often rebels at the declaration of Revelation that he is a fallen being, and yet how strongly does he assert this fact in the changes he himself has made in the meaning of words. Our ‘Bauds’ (‘William le Baud,’ B., ‘Wauter le Baud,’ M.) were once but the Norman equivalent of our ‘Merrys’ already mentioned.[546] Must lightness of heart inevitably end in wanton levity? There was a day when our ‘Parramores’ (‘Roger Paramour,’ M.; ‘Henry Parramore,’ Z.)[547] were but the simple honest lover of either sex, when our ‘Lemons,’ ‘Lemans,’ and ‘Lemmans’ (‘Eldred Leman,’ A., ‘John Leman,’ M.) meant but the beloved one from ‘lief,’ ‘dear.’ Both Chaucer and Piers Plowman employ the term ‘lef-man’ or ‘leef-man’ as an expression of endearment, with no thought of obloquy. Thus, too, in the ‘Townley Mysteries,’ God is represented as bidding Gabriel to go to Nazareth— And hail that madyn, my lemman, As heyndly (courteously) as thou can.