My enemy’s?
BARAK
Altoum, if he should find you living, would
Spike your head—yonder. Ah, be wise, my prince!
Root out this rashness. Throw that rose away.
See, it is withered—dead. So let your love be!
CALAF
[Smiling]
Only a lover rightly loves the rose!
Withered, you tell me?—dead? How dull is the sense