_Paris._ The whole world being one, This place is not exempted; and I am So confident in the justice of our cause That I could wish Cæsar, in whose great name All kings are comprehended, sat as judge To hear our plea, and then determine of us. If, to express a man sold to his lusts, Wasting the treasure of his time and fortunes In wanton dalliance, and to what sad end A wretch that’s so given over does arrive at; Deterring careless youth, by his example, From such licentious courses; laying open The snares of bawds, and the consuming arts Of prodigal strumpets, can deserve reproof, Why are not all your golden principles, Writ down by grave philosophers to instruct us To choose fair virtue for our guide, not pleasure, Condemned unto the fire? _Sura._ There’s spirit in this. _Paris._ Or if desire of honor was the base On which the building of the Roman Empire Was raised up to this height; if, to inflame The noble youth with an ambitious heat T’ endure the frosts of danger, nay, of death, To be thought worthy the triumphal wreath By glorious undertakings, may deserve Reward or favor from the commonwealth, Actors may put in for as large a share As all the sects of the philosophers. They with cold precepts (perhaps seldom read) Deliver what an honorable thing The active virtue is; but does that fire The blood, or swell the veins with emulation To be both good and great, equal to that Which is presented on our theatres? Let a good actor, in a lofty scene, Shew great Alcides honour’d in the sweat Of his twelve labours; or a bold Camillus Forbidding Rome to be redeem’d with gold From the insulting Gauls; or Scipio, After his victories, imposing tribute On conquer’d Carthage; if done to the life, As if they saw their dangers, and their glories, And did partake with them in their rewards, All that have any spark of Roman in them, The slothful arts laid by, contend to be Like those they see presented. _Rusticus._ He has put The consuls to their whisper.