nightingale sung to you even now.

KING
Ha, ha, ha!

BALTHAZAR
Angels erred but once and fell, but you Sir, spit in heaven's face
every minute and laugh at it. Laugh still, follow your courses, do.
Let your vices run like your kennels of hounds, yelping after you
till they pluck down the fairest head in the herd, everlasting bliss.

KING
Any more?

BALTHAZAR
Take sin as the English snuff tobacco, and scornfully blow the smoke
in the eyes of heaven, the vapour flies up in clouds of bravery. But
when 'tis out, the coal is black, your conscience, and the pipe
stinks. A sea of rosewater cannot sweeten your corrupted bosom.

KING
Nay, spit thy venom.

BALTHAZAR
'Tis Aqua Coelestis <23>, no venom. For when you shall clasp up these
two books, never to be opened again, when by letting fall that anchor
which can never more be weighed up, your mortal navigation ends. Then
there's no playing at spurn-point <24> with thunderbolts. A vintner
then for unconscionable reckoning or a tailor for unmeasurable items
shall not answer in half that fear you must.