Of course, a lot of those names still get used now. But some of the wilder ones never really caught on. There were some fabulous ones. Apparently Praise-God Barebone's son, If-Christ-had-not-died-for-thee-thou-hadst-been damned Barebone, went by Nicholas Barbon.

That sort of makes it even better. I like to imagine his dad thought this was foolish youthful exuberance, a la Lupin Pooter.