_Hypatia Roland (to the Brown's Parlourmaid)._ "CALL ME A HANSOM, PLEASE." _Cadby._ "I'M GOING YOUR WAY, MISS ROLAND. WE MIGHT GO TOGETHER." _Miss Roland._ "_TWO_ HANSOMS, PLEASE!"] * * * * * "ALL'S WELL!" A DUET. _Re-arranged (for Lion and Bear) after Dibden._ ["Several Russian newspapers publish articles ... declaring that an Anglo-Russian understanding would be of enormous advantage to the respective interests of the two nations, besides promoting European peace."--_Times._] _Spoken._ _Russian Bear_ (_with effusion_). Now this is really delightful! _British Lion_ (_cordially_). Most charming, I'm sure! _R. Bear._ What I've longed for for ages! _B. Lion._ What I've wished for centuries! _R. Bear._ Strange how long we have been separated by pure prejudice! _B. Lion._ Though our respective dens are so conveniently situated for mutual calls, and genial interchange of love and liquor! _R. Bear._ Why, I like you _immensely_, now I see you near. _B. Lion._ And I'm _enormously_ taken with _you_, at close quarters. _R. Bear._ You have little of the Lion but its magnanimous courage. _B. Lion._ And you have nothing of the Bear but its skin. _R. Bear._ The kind things you have been saying about me lately have quite _touched_ me. _B. Lion._ Don't mention it. You deserved 'em all. Delighted to render any little civilities to a near neighbour, especially in time of trouble. _R. Bear_ (_much moved_). A thousand thanks! Leo! Let me embrace you. No longer afraid of my hug, are you? _B. Lion._ Not a bit of it! Oh! this is something _like_ a "Russian Advance!!!" _R. Bear._ And this is indeed a right "British Greeting!!!" _B. Lion_ (_aside_). Wonder what the Gallic Chanticleer thinks of _this!_ _R. Bear_ (_aside_). Fancy the Teutonic Eagle eyes us a leetle jealously. _B. Lion_ (_aloud_). Well, let us meet often, Bruin, and talk things over amicably. _R. Bear_ (_aloud_). We will, Leo, we will. Ah! _what_ a pity we _didn't know each other before!_ _B. Lion._ Yes, indeed. However, All's well that ends well! _R. Bear._ "All's Well!" Ah! Cue for song! Let us warble! _They sing:_-- Converted (rather late than soon), We peace proclaim,--thrice blessed boon! We meet, as friends, on common ground; On sentry go no more tramp round; And _should_ our footsteps haply stray, Where treaties mark the warded way,-- "Who goes there?"-- Stranger quickly tell,-- "A friend!" "The word!" "_Comrades!_" "ALL'S WELL!"