Headlong according to the actors' clothes.

The playgoers of Garrick's time, and long afterwards, were habituated
to the defective system of theatrical costume--had grown up with it.
To them it was part of the stage as they had always known it, and they
saw no reason for fault-finding. And it is conceivable that many plays
were little affected by the circumstance that the actors wore court
suits. It was but a shifting of the period of the story represented, a
change of venue; and Romeo, in hair-powder, interested just as much as
though he had assumed an auburn wig. The characters were, doubtless,
very well played, and the actors appeared, at any rate, as "persons of
quality." In historical plays one would think the objection to
anachronism much more obvious; for there distinct events and
personages and settled dates were dealt with. But there was an
understanding that stage costume was purely a conventional matter--and
so came to be tolerated most heterogeneous dressing: the mixing
together of the clothes of almost all centuries and all countries, in
a haphazard way, just as they might be discovered heaped up in a
theatrical wardrobe. It was not a case of simple anachronism; it was
compound and conflicting. Still, little objection was offered.

And even a critic above quoted, writing in 1759, and proposing greater
accuracy in the costumes of historical plays, refrains from suggesting
that comedy should be as strictly treated. He even advances the
opinion that the system of dress in vogue at the date of the play's
production should be disregarded according to "the fluctuations of
fashion." "What should we think," he demanded, "of a Lord Foppington
now dressed with a large full-bottomed wig, laced cravat, buttons as
large as apples, or a Millament with a headdress four storeys high?"
And there is something to be said for this view. The writer of comedy
pictures manners, and these do not change immediately. His portraits
remain recognisable for a generation, probably. Lord Foppington had
descendants, and his likeness, with certain changes of dress, might
fairly pass for theirs for some time. But, of course, the day must
arrive when the comedy loses value as a reflection of manners; it is
interesting as a transcript of the past, but not of the present. It is
doubtless difficult to fix this date with preciseness; but when that
has been accomplished the opportunity of the antiquarian costumier has
arrived.

Macklin, who re