[He reads the letter.
Laz. So let my reward then—only let it come at last.
Ces. O Lazaro, half drunk with my success,
I lose my wits when most I’ve need of them.
She writes to me, my lady writes to me
So sweetly, yea, so lovingly;
Methinks I want to tear my bosom open,
And lay this darling letter on my heart.
Where shall I shrine it?
Laz. Oh, if that be all,