Hath banish’d me his daughter?
Ros. That he hath not.
Cel. No? hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love
Which teaches thee that thou and I art one:
Shall we be sunder’d? shall we part, sweet girl?
No; let my father seek another heir.
Therefore devise with me, how we may fly,
Whither to go, and what to bear with us:
And do not seek to take your charge upon you,
To bear your griefs yourself, and leave me out;