_Jarp_ (_to_ BOLDERO). Did you see that infamous notice in _The Moonbeam_? Just like that rascal PENFOLD. He can't help showing his jealousy, because we never asked him to join the Perambulators. _Boldero._ Yes. There you have it in a nutshell. I tell you what it is, we shall have to exclude all critics from our show in future. _Tiffington._ Ah! that would punish them--and serve them right, too. Are you going to sing to-night, HALL? _Hall_ (_with a sigh of resignation_). I suppose I shall have to. I told BATTERDOWN I should be ready, if wanted. _Jarp._ Have you got anything new? _Hall._ Rather. Something particularly neat, I think. I call it "_The Super at Supper_." It goes like this:-- [_Hums to his friends, who listen with rapt attention, occasionally interchanging glances expressive of enthusiastic admiration._ I once knew a Super, a festive soul, Who quaffed champagne from a brimming bowl, And all night long as he quaffed he sang, "The Dukes may swing, and the Earls go hang, And the Duchesses, 'drat 'em, may go and be blowed; They've all been there, and they know the road-- They're slaves, but the Super who sups is free-- Oh! the Super's life is the life for me! _Chorus._ With a hey-diddle-diddle and fiddle-di-dee, Oh! the supping Super's the man for me!" _Spinks, Boldero, Gushby, Jarp_ (_with enthusiasm_). My dear fellow, that's immense. _Hill._ Yes, it's not bad. There are six verses, some of them even better than that. [_The Chairman rises to propose the only toast of the evening, "Success to the Great Actor who is about to leave us for a short time." The usual speech--reminiscent, anecdotic, prophetic of tremendous triumphs, mildly humorous, pathetic._ _The Chairman_ (_concluding_). Therefore I bid you all charge your glasses as full of wine as your hearts are full of sympathy, and join me in wishing success to the Great Man, who is about to cull new laurels in a foreign land. [_Roars of applause. Immense enthusiasm. The Great Actor responds. He is moved to tears. He assures his friends, that wherever he may go his heart will ever turn fondly to them. Great cheering._ _Tiffington_ (_puffing his cigar_). Not so bad. I always said he could speak better than he could act. [_The supper concludes._ HALL _has not been asked to sing._ _Friend of Great Actor_ (_departing, to_ TIFFINGTON). It's been a splendid evening, hasn't it? _Tiffington_ (_putting on his coat_). Yes. Pretty fair. (_To_ HALL.) Sorry for you, old chap. But the song will keep. _Hall._ Keep? Oh, yes, it'll keep. I'll make it red-hot for the lot of 'em, and sing it at Blankbury next year. They won't like that, I rather think. _Jarp._ No, by Gad! [_Exeunt omnes._ * * * * * THE SHREWING OF THE TAME. DEAR MR. PUNCH,