Our opponent says, "An orator speaks better when he's angry." Not true. He speaks better when he pretends to be angry. Actors bring down the house with their performance — not when they're really angry, but when they act angry well. In the same way, when addressing a jury or crowd, or in any situation where we need to influence people, we must pretend to feel anger, fear, or pity before we can make others feel them. Often the pretense of passion will do what real passion could never accomplish. "A mind that doesn't feel anger," he says, "is weak." True — if it has nothing stronger than anger to rely on. A person should be neither a robber nor a victim, neither soft-hearted nor cruel. The first comes from a mind that's too weak, the second from one that's too hard. Let the wise person be moderate. And when things need to be done with some force, let him call on strength — not anger — to help him.
“An orator,” says our opponent, “sometimes speaks better, when he is angry.” Not so, but when he pretends to be angry: for so also actors bring down the house by their playing, not when they are really angry, but when they act the angry man well: and in like manner, in addressing a jury or a popular assembly, or in any other position in which the minds of others have to be influenced at our pleasure, we must ourselves pretend to feel anger, fear, or pity before we can make others feel them, and often the pretence of passion will do what the passion itself could not have done. “The mind which does not feel anger,” says he, “is feeble.” True, if it has nothing stronger than anger to support it. A man ought to be neither robber nor victim, neither tender-hearted nor cruel. The former belongs to an over-weak mind, the latter to an over-hard one. Let the wise man be moderate, and when things have to be done somewhat briskly, let him call force, not anger, to his aid.