“See yonder, round a many-colour'd flame,
A merry club is huddled all together;
Even with such little people as sit there
One would not be alone.”
Goëthe.
“Who goes there?”
“Rounds.”
“What rounds?”
“Grand rounds.”
“Stand, grand rounds—advance one and give the countersign.”
“Waterloo.”
“Pass, grand rounds: all's well.”