It was once suggested that the play of "Hamlet," with the character of Hamlet omitted, might probably lose some of its effect in dramatic representation. If this theory is a good one, it follows, as a matter of course, that the play of "Richard the Third," with six Richards instead of one, must be six times as good as it is with only a single embodiment of that extraordinary character. That this is the opinion of modern tragedians is shown by their all requiring to perform the principal part in all tragedies: an arrangement that could only be carried out by multiplying the chief character in a piece by the number of individuals in a theatre who want to act it. Whether the negative capacities of three or four individual performers can make an affirmative capacity, is an experiment that might be tried, at all events. "Division of labour" is a very favourite project amongst speculators in the present day; and if Messrs. A., P., and V., are separately unequal to the effort of sustaining the weight of the crook-backed tyrant, why should not the tyrant be cut into three—some actors, by-the-bye, cut him all to pieces— so that each of the performers hinted at might bear a portion of the burden? Mr. A. might do the love scene with Lady Anne; Mr. P. might growl through the opening soliloquy; and Mr. V. might go to sleep throughout the dream: an achievement which the drowsiness of his style renders him fully equal to. That the bard of Avon contemplated the possibility of something of the kind is shown by the expression he puts into the mouth of Richard himself, who, in making the well-known exclamation, "Methinks I see six Richmonds in the field," may be supposed to have hinted at the possibility of there being six competitors for his own position—that of hero of the tragedy. THE DOGS' BILL. The goodness of Parliament all things surpasses; Its kind fellow-feeling no pride ever clogs: It has stooped to the representation of asses, And during last Session it went to the dogs. How kind of a conclave of Solons and Daniels, Whose wisdom and greatness there's no one disputes, To sympathize nobly with lap-dogs and spaniels, And adopt as their own all the feelings of brutes! But the dogs of the country are sore discontented, The Bills to protect them should out have been thrown; If the species canine is to be represented, Why is it by London-bred puppies alone? Theatrical managers also will feel it— No dogs for performance they now can engage; In town, by the act (if they do not repeal it), No dog can be suffered to draw on the stage. Dog Latin, doxology, reason dogmatic, And physic, which oft to the dogs has been thrown,— Are all these confined, by a plan systematic, To the puppies residing in London alone?