It has been the policy of that antient and grey simulator, in all ages, to hide his _horns_ and _claws_. The _Richard_ of Mr. Cooke perpetually obtrudes _his_. We see the effect of his deceit uniformly _successful_, but we do not comprehend _how_ it _succeeds_. We can put ourselves, by a very common fiction, into the place of the individuals upon whom it acts, and say, that, in the like case, we should not have been alike credulous. The hypocrisy is too glaring and visible. It resembles more the shallow cunning of a mind which is its own dupe, than the profound and practised art of so powerful an intellect as _Richard's_. It is too obstreperous and loud, breaking out into _triumphs_ and _plaudits_ at its own success, like an unexercised _noviciate_ in _tricks_. It has none of the silent confidence, and steady self-command of the _experienced politician_; it possesses none of that _fine address_, which was necessary to have betrayed the heart of _Lady Anne_, or even to have imposed upon the duller wits of the _Lord Mayor_ and _Citizens_. 2dly. _His habitual jocularity_, the effect of buoyant spirits, and an elastic mind, rejoicing in its own powers, and in the success of its machinations. This quality of unstrained mirth accompanies _Richard_, and is a prime feature in his character. It never leaves him; in plots, in stratagems, and in the midst of his bloody devices, it is perpetually driving him upon wit, and jests, and personal satire, fanciful allusions, and quaint felicities of phrase. It is one of the chief artifices by which the consummate master of dramatic effect has contrived to soften the horrors of the scene, and to make us contemplate a bloody and vicious character with delight. No where, in any of his plays, is to be found so much of sprightly colloquial dialogue, and soliloquies of genuine humour, as in _Richard_. This character of unlaboured mirth Mr. Cooke seems entirely to pass over, and substitutes in its stead the coarse, taunting humour, and clumsy merriment, of a low-minded assassin.