MOBY DICK
A monologue from the
novel by Herman Melville
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NOTE: This monologue is reprinted
from Moby Dick; or, the Whale. Herman Melville. New York:
Harper & Brothers, 1851. |
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STUBB: Such a queer dream, King-Post, I never had.
You know the old man's ivory leg, well I dreamed he kicked me
with it; and when I tried to kick back, upon my soul, my little
man, I kicked my leg right off! And then, presto! Ahab seemed
a pyramid, and I, like a blazing fool, kept kicking at it. But
what was still more curious, Flask--you know how curious all
dreams are--through all this rage that I was in, I somehow seemed
to be thinking to myself, that after all, it was not much of
an insult, that kick from Ahab. 'Why,' thinks I, 'what's the
row? It's not a real leg, only a false leg.' And there's a
mighty difference between a living thump and a dead thump. That's
what makes a blow from the hand, Flask, fifty times more savage
to bear than a blow from a cane. The living member--that makes
the living insult, my little man. And thinks I to myself all
the while, mind, while I was stubbing my silly toes against that
cursed pyramid--so confoundedly contradictory was it all, all
the while, I say, I was thinking to myself, 'what's his leg now,
but a cane--a whalebone cane. Yes,' thinks I, 'it was only a
playful cudgelling--in fact, only a whaleboning that he gave
me--not a base kick. Besides,' thinks I, 'look at it once; why,
the end of it--the foot part--what a small sort of end it is;
whereas, if a broad footed farmer kicked me, THERE'S a devilish
broad insult. But this insult is whittled down to a point only.'
But now comes the greatest joke of the dream, Flask. While I
was battering away at the pyramid, a sort of badger-haired old
merman, with a hump on his back, takes me by the shoulders, and
slews me round. 'What are you 'bout?' says he. Slid! man, but
I was frightened. Such a phiz! But, somehow, next moment I
was over the fright. 'What am I about?' says I at last. 'And
what business is that of yours, I should like to know, Mr. Humpback?
Do YOU want a kick?' By the lord, Flask, I had no sooner said
that, than he turned round his stern to me, bent over, and dragging
up a lot of seaweed he had for a clout--what do you think, I
saw?--why thunder alive, man, his stern was stuck full of marlinspikes,
with the points out. Says I, on second thoughts, 'I guess I
won't kick you, old fellow.' 'Wise Stubb,' said he, 'wise Stubb;'
and kept muttering it all the time, a sort of eating of his own
gums like a chimney hag. Seeing he wasn't going to stop saying
over his 'wise Stubb, wise Stubb,' I thought I might as well
fall to kicking the pyramid again. But I had only just lifted
my foot for it, when he roared out, 'Stop that kicking!' 'Halloa,'
says I, 'what's the matter now, old fellow?' 'Look ye here,'
says he; 'let's argue the insult. Captain Ahab kicked ye, didn't
he?' 'Yes, he did,' says I--'right HERE it was.' 'Very good,'
says he--'he used his ivory leg, didn't he?' 'Yes, he did,'
says I. 'Well then,' says he, 'wise Stubb, what have you to
complain of? Didn't he kick with right good will? it wasn't
a common pitch pine leg he kicked with, was it? No, you were
kicked by a great man, and with a beautiful ivory leg, Stubb.
It's an honour; I consider it an honour. Listen, wise Stubb.
In old England the greatest lords think it great glory to be
slapped by a queen, and made garter-knights of; but, be YOUR
boast, Stubb, that ye were kicked by old Ahab, and made a wise
man of. Remember what I say; BE kicked by him; account his kicks
honours; and on no account kick back; for you can't help yourself,
wise Stubb. Don't you see that pyramid?' With that, he all of
a sudden seemed somehow, in some queer fashion, to swim off into
the air. I snored; rolled over; and there I was in my hammock!
Now, what do you think of that dream, Flask?
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MONOLOGUES BY HERMAN MELVILLE |
