The insertion of the story of Io into Book 4 of Valerius' narrative of the Argonauts' voyage to Colchis follows a familiar pattern, for here we have an apparently irrelevant digression, delivered by a figure of authority, which experienced readers of Roman epic will expect to encapsulate some of the poem's key issues. Some will think of Evander's tale of Hercules and Cacus in Aeneid 8 or of Adrastus' account of Apollo and Coroebus in Thebaid 1. And then there is Lucan's version of the struggle between Hercules and Antaeus in Pharsalia 4. Theoreticians will invoke the concept of ‘mise-en-abîme’, because Valerius' inclusion of this standard epic device creates semiotic expectations.

The careful definition and in some cases active re-definition of power and freedom is at the heart of the ethical and social program of Horace's first book of Epistles, as several critics and commentators have discerned. It is not the only thing happening in Epistles Book 1, but it is one of the more prominent, and one which has elicited a variety of scholarly responses. Some, taking their cue from Epistle 1.1, have interpreted the poet's concern with independence as a heartfelt expression of his desire for poetic freedom inspired by the changing circumstances of his life and social environment. Others have sought to identify the philosophical sources of Horace's ethical views, including his views on freedom and power.

Catullus c. 67 is a problematic piece that has proved troublesome for scholars, primarily because its story of sexual scandal is highly ambiguous. Various scholars have claimed that they have finally solved the details of the poem's slippery narrative, and have identified the author's intention in creating such obscurity. Copley, Giangrande and Richardson argue that the story is clear, and then create a web of hypothetical events to explain the ambiguities in the text. Unfortunately, the hypotheses contradict one another, and none provides an account of the story that explains away all the problems. So far, consensus on a ‘solution’ has not been reached. More recently, scholars have turned away from this controversial topic, focusing instead on the poetic and thematic effects of the poem.

So much of Silius Italicus' Punica seems familiar. To read this epic is to be confronted by so many allusions to earlier poets that it is difficult to maintain a serious perusal of the poem without thinking ‘not another storm at sea / battle scene / catalogue of troops’. We have read it all before, it seems. Silius is a notable exponent of the tradition described by Conte as ‘emulative allusion’, a tradition which ‘both conditions the later poet's work and helps him to formulate its distinctive qualities.’ For example, Princess Asbyte, who appears in Book 2 during the battle of Saguntum, is a clear allusion to Virgil's Camilla, and the sea-battle in the harbour of Syracuse in Book 14 powerfully echoes Lucan's vivid description of the battle of Massilia in Book 3 of his Bellum Civile. There are catalogues of troops which emulate Homer in style, and the battle of Saguntum itself seems to encompass many of the battle scenes of the Iliad and the second half of the Aeneid.

Can there be a less promising topic than this? It is well known that Tiberius twice took time off from a busy career, first as heir-apparent and finally as emperor, but at first glance such withdrawals appear to be non-travel rather than travel. By the same token, his military expeditions seem to be tours of duty rather than travel in the sense classical scholars have constituted that rubric. Arguably the Capri stay was not travel but retirement. As the writer Norman Douglas put it, with a hint of apology: ‘In retiring at the close of an arduous life to enjoy the beauties of nature on fabled Siren shores, he was only doing what any civilised person might be expected to do.’ But there is more that can be said. In so far as such movements constitute imperial travel, there is a short but rich section of Millar's The Emperor in the Roman World as well as the detailed study by Halfmann, Itinera Principum, to read alongside ancient and modern biographies.

A small but significant aspect of Lucan's presentation of both Pompey and Caesar in the Bellum Civile is the use of complementary and contrasting doublets. In the case of Pompey, the doublet comprises the two dreams narrated at the beginning of Book 3 (of his dead wife Julia) and the beginning of Book 7 (of the crowd acclaiming him in his theatre); in the case of Caesar, it comprises the apparitions that mark the beginning and end of his presence in the poem, the first of the goddess Roma and the second of Scaeva, which because of their position have an obvious framing function.

Some recent treatments of the Augustan Principate have discussed the title Pater Patriae (= PP) as the expression of a relatively detached and uncontroversial idea. In earlier papers on the significance of this title, however, I have tried to describe its political volatility for both Cicero and Caesar. Cicero's title was applied to him in the wake of his execution of the Catilinarian conspirators; it was meant to characterise him as Rome's saviour, rather than as a murderous tyrant and oppressor. Caesar's title was equally a counter to accusations of murderous tyranny; he did not take Roman lives through civil war, he saved them through the exercise of dementia. Caesar's honour, furthermore, was clearly decreed to him in the form Parens Patriae – parens being a widely used, positive term for a benefactor; Cicero is referred to as both pater and parens in the fractious discourse which followed his consulship. Given the ever-present dichotomy between the father and the tyrant, and the general environment of élite competition, it appears that the form of Caesar's honour implies a deliberate contrast with the claims of Cicero, viz. Caesar's paternal role was certainly about giving or enhancing life, rather than taking it.

Travel was an inescapable fact of life for the citizens of early second-century CE Rome. People constantly travelled from Rome to Italy, from Rome to the provinces, and from the provinces to Rome; on business, public or private, as immigrants, or for personal reasons, including health and tourism. News of travel was also ever present. In a rigidly hierarchical society which paid continual homage to the princeps, but which also maintained the fiction that his actions were accountable to the Roman people, his extensive travels throughout Italy and the provinces were constantly documented and available for all citizens to see – through inscriptions, through panegyric, and through coins.

Salax taberna vosque contubernales,

a pilleatis nona fratribus pila,

solis putatis esse mentulas vobis,

solis licere, quidquid est puellarum,

confutuere et putare ceteros hircos? 5

an, continenter quod sedetis insulsi

centum an ducenti, non putatis ausurum

me una ducentos irrumare sessores?

atqui putate: namque totius vobis

frontem tabernae sopionibus scribam. 10

puella nam mi, quae meo sinu fugit,

amata tantum quantum amabitur nulla,

pro qua mihi sunt magna bella pugnata,

consedit istic. hanc boni beatique

omnes amatis, et quidem, quod indignum est, 15

omnes pusilli et semitarii moechi;

tu praeter omnes une de capillatis,

cuniculosae Celtiberiae fili,

Egnati, opaca quem bonum facit barba

et dens Hibera defricatus urina. 20

Randy tavern and you tavern-men, nine pillars from the cap-clad brothers, do you think that you alone have pricks, that you alone are permitted comprehensively to fuck whatever girls there are and to consider the rest of us goats? Do you really think that, because you sit there, silly fools, one hundred or maybe two hundred in a row, I won't dare to mouth-fuck you as you sit there, all of you at once? Well, you had better believe it. For I will inscribe the front of the whole tavern for you with obscene graffiti. For my girl, who has fled from my embrace, beloved by me as no other woman will be loved, for whom great wars have been fought by me, has taken her seat there with you. Her all you great and rich men love, and – what is shameful – all of you cheap back-street lechers: you above all, you outstanding member of the long-haired crew, son of bunny-infested Celtiberia, Egnatius, to whom a thick beard and his teeth brushed in Spanish urine give respectability.

The epigram is an amusing attack on a meretrix (‘prostitute’), with the ironic sobriquet Chione (‘Snow White’) who, though technically a virgin, in fact specialises in fellatio. To make the point that it is Chione's mouth, rather than her cunnus (‘cunt’), which is impure, Martial suggests that when bathing she should modestly cover that part which in her case is put to sexual use, that is, her mouth, by transferring her subligar (lit. ‘loin-cloth’) from her bottom half to her face. Although the meaning is clear and the piece looks uncomplicated enough, a discussion of the precise way in which the humour works, and second, of the underlying social customs, offers unexpected rewards.