ha! ha! ha! ha! hem! clear my throat!—i’ve been thinking over it ever since, and that ha, ha’s the final consequence. why so? because a laugh’s the wisest, easiest answer to all that’s queer; and come what will, one comfort’s always left—that unfailing comfort is, it’s all predestinated. i heard not all his talk with starbuck; but to my poor eye starbuck then looked something as i the other evening felt. be sure the old mogul has fixed him, too. i twigged it, knew it; had had the gift, might readily have prophesied it—for when i clapped my eye upon his skull i saw it. well, stubb, wise stubb—that’s my title—well, stubb, what of it, stubb? here’s a carcase. i know not all that may be coming, but be it what it will, i’ll go to it laughing. such a waggish leering as lurks in all your horribles! i feel funny. fa, la! lirra, skirra! what’s my juicy little pear at home doing now? crying its eyes out?—giving a party to the last arrived harpooneers, i dare say, gay as a frigate’s pennant, and so am i—fa, la! lirra, skirra! oh—