RODERIGO.
Wilt thou be fast to my hopes if I depend on the issue?
IAGO.
Thou art sure of me. Go, make money. I have told thee often, and I retell 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 tomorrow. Adieu.
RODERIGO.
Where shall we meet i’ the morning?
IAGO.
At my lodging.
RODERIGO.
I’ll be with thee betimes.
IAGO.
Go to, farewell. Do you hear, Roderigo?
RODERIGO.
What say you?
IAGO.
No more of drowning, do you hear?
RODERIGO.
I am changed. I’ll sell all my land.
[Exit.]