To-morrow leave the realm, this day the town,
And, like the scape-goat driven into the desart,
Bear all ill omens with thee.
Alph. Proud of my exile, with erected face,
I leave your court, your town, and your dominions.
Pleased that I love at least without a crime.
Lighter by what I lost, I tread in air,
Unhappy, but triumphant in despair. [Exit Alphonso.
Vera. Behold how haughtily he strides away,
Lofty and bold; as if not banished hence,