Act I

Thou art sure of me:⁠—go, make money:⁠—I have told thee often, and I re-tell thee again and again, I hate the Moor: my cause is hearted; thine hath no less reason. Let us be conjunctive in our revenge against him: if thou canst cuckold him, thou dost thyself a pleasure, me a sport. There are many events in the womb of time which will be delivered. Traverse! go, provide thy money. We will have more of this to-morrow. Adieu.

Where shall we meet i’ the morning?

At my lodging.

I’ll be with thee betimes.

Go to; farewell. Do you hear, Roderigo?

What say you?

No more of drowning, do you hear?

I am changed: I’ll go sell all my land.