“Starbuck, of late I’ve felt strangely moved to thee; ever since that hour we both saw⁠—thou know’st what, in one another’s eyes. But in this matter of the whale, be the front of thy face to me as the palm of this hand⁠—a lipless, unfeatured blank. Ahab is forever Ahab, man. This whole act’s immutably decreed. ’Twas rehearsed by thee and me a billion years before this ocean rolled. Fool! I am the Fates’ lieutenant; I act under orders. Look thou, underling! that thou obeyest mine.⁠—Stand round me, men. Ye see an old man cut down to the stump; leaning on a shivered lance; propped up on a lonely foot. ’Tis Ahab⁠—his body’s part; but Ahab’s soul’s a centipede, that moves upon a hundred legs. I feel strained, half stranded, as ropes that tow dismasted frigates in a gale; and I may look so. But ere I break, ye’ll hear me crack; and till ye hear that , know that Ahab’s hawser tows his purpose yet. Believe ye, men, in the things called omens? Then laugh aloud, and cry encore! For ere they drown, drowning things will twice rise to the surface; then rise again, to sink forevermore. So with Moby Dick⁠—two days he’s floated⁠—tomorrow will be the third. Aye, men, he’ll rise once more⁠—but only to spout his last! D’ye feel brave men, brave?”