When we encounter the following words: ‘A few moments ago, I think, you heard Plato saying that there is no specific name for the art which deals with the body’, it is easy to put these into a literary context. We may imagine some kind of fictional dialogue, in which out of two or more partners one reminds another of what a few minutes ago Plato had said to them about a particular subject. Whether Plato is still present or has left the room, we do not yet know, and we hope to get this information from the rest of the book. The book might be an historical novel by, say, Mary Renault. So much is clear, and with our knowledge of the Classics we are sure that the book is not by a Classical author.

In the Rhetoric Aristotle frequently illustrates the points he is making with examples drawn both from oratory and from other literary genres. Although some of these citations have been used to date the work, they have never been systematically examined. It is the contention of this article that, when Aristotle gives examples from speeches, he quotes exclusively from epideictic works, and that this fact tells us much both about the circulation of written speeches at Athens and about the preoccupations of Aristotle and his pupils.

The achievement of Thrasybulus on his last voyage has been variously estimated. Busolt saw no more than a series of strong-arm acts that added up to very little. Beloch spoke of the Second Athenian Empire. For others there were mere renewals of friendship. This note has as its starting-point that Thrasybulus sought to restore the fifth-century empire.

If one looks merely at the list of places explicitly mentioned, the sum is not large. Thasos and its peraea, Samothrace and possibly its peraea, Byzantium, Chalcedon, Abydos possibly, Mytilene, Methymna, Eresus, Antissa, Chios, Halicarnassus, Aspendus. But Xenophon implies a great deal more.

Constantine, the first Christian Emperor, bequeathed war against Persia to his son Constantius, a legacy which haunted the next two decades, culminating in Julian′s debacle in 363. Much has been written on the timing, motives, and strategy of these campaigns but the same role model appears at their beginning and end: Alexander the Great. Here, I wish to re-examine the evidence for his presence: recent scholarship has minimized it at one end and maximized at the other.

At the Editors' request, I have given this paper the final revision which Mr. Morrison has not time to give. This was needed chiefly in II, in the establishment of the stemma, and in the early part of IV. In these parts Mr. Morrison must not be held responsible for the details, though I have endeavoured to give his conclusions. In II the credit is his for the identification of the sororis filius in Quintilian, Inst. Or. xi. 2. 14, as Antiochus, for the view that Antiochus is an Aleuad, and therefore the three Echecratidae also, and for the consequent interpretation of Thuc. i. i n (viz. that Myronides attacked Pharsalus not as Orestes' town but as the strategic gate to Thessaly). In IV I found it difficult to revise Mr. Morrison's detailed interpretation of ‘Herodes’ and have omitted much. It will be understood that this procedure does little justice to his views, though I have tried to suppress nothing which bore directly on his main argument.

Many books have been written on Greek dance. The fault which bedevils a large number of them is that their authors have tried to recreate the movements of the dances from the artistic evidence without taking into account the conventions of Greek vase-painting and sculpture. Other books, and they are the most useful, set out the literary and the artistic evidence without attempting to reconstruct the dances. Rarely, however, are the wider implications considered, and it is these which I wish to discuss here. More analysis and discussion of the evidence for many of my statements is no doubt required, but the place for that is a book rather than an article which ranges over a comparatively large field.

Our information about the Athenian politician Syrakosios is entirely derived from Ar. Birds 1297 and the scholia thereon. Syrakosios here figures among a long list of Athenians who are said to be nicknamed after various birds:

δοκεῖ δ⋯ κα⋯ ψήɸισμα τεθεικέναι μ⋯ κωμῳδεῖσθαι ⋯νομαστί τινα, ὡς Φρύνιχος ⋯ν Μονοτρόπῳ ɸησί [fr. 26 Kock]· “ψ⋯ρ' ἔχοι Συρακόσιον. ⋯πιɸαν⋯ς γ⋯ρ αὐτῷ κα⋯ μέγα τύχοι. ⋯ɸείλετο γ⋯ρ κωμῳδεῖν οὕς ⋯πεθύμουν.” δι⋯ πικρότερον αὐτῷ προσɸέρονται, ὡς λάλῳ δ⋯ τ⋯ν “ κίτταν” παρέθηκεν

The Periplus Maris Erythraeiis a handbook written by an anonymous author in the second half of the first century A.D., for the use of merchants from Roman Egypt who traded with east Africa, Arabia, and India.1 In it the author devotes a good deal of space to the trade with India's west coast. He notes that there were two main commercial centres: one was Barygaza on the northwestern coast (44.15.4–7), and the other the twin ports of Muziris and Nelkynda on the southwestern (53.17.27–8), the area he calls Limyrike, more or less the equivalent of the Malabar coast. He spells out in detail what Barygaza imported and exported(49.16.20–31)and then does the same for Limyrike(56.18.16–28).

The winning of the ultimate military honour of spolia opima, spoils taken personally from an enemy commander killed by a Roman commander, traditionally occurred only three times in Roman history, the winners being Romulus in the legendary period, A. Cornelius Cossus in either 437 or 426 and M. Claudius Marcellus in 222 B.C.1 The dedication-place of these special spoils was the temple of Jupiter Feretrius on the Capitol, traditionally founded by Romulus for the purpose, and considered the oldest temple in Rome (Livy 1.10.7): the god was said to draw his name either from the fact that the spolia opima were carried (ferre) up to the Capitol by the victorious general in person, or from the fact that the general had to strike down(ferire) his opposite number before such spoils could be won.

Socrates' last words are a microcosm of the riddle his character poses to the philosophical reader. Are they sincere or ironic? Do they represent an afterthought prompted by a belated sense of familial responsibility or a death–bed epiphany? Are we to determine their reference in relation to the surface logic of the Phaedo or take them as the sign of a concealed discursive depth? In what follows, I will argue that the answer to these questions depends upon acknowledgement and clarification of the pedagogical challenge Socrates faces in conversation with Simmias and Cebes. What I have to say is prompted, in large measure, by Glenn Mosts recent article which both undertakes substantial analysis of the riddles treatment by the tradition and develops a plausible solution. I do not accept this solution. But the struggle to articulate my misgivings about his argument was indispensible to the development of my own. In view of this, it seems prudent to begin with a brief summary of the position he takes.

The central question of Aeschylus' Supplices has usually been taken to be the reason for the flight of the Danaids. The most exhaustive guide to the many theories, of varying plausibility, which have been developed to account for this flight is provided by A. F. Garvie's book on the Supplices. For present purposes, therefore, it is unnecessary to examine any but the two most acceptable theories in detail. Nevertheless, a brief summary, prior to this examination, of two other, initially attractive, views might be helpful to students of this problem, the first simply because it is so attractive to so many eminent scholars, the second because, while it fails to provide an acceptable solution, it suggests a useful approach to the problem.

Arrian's enthusiasm for Ptolemy's account of Alexander has often been echoed in modern times. With much justification it is generally agreed that Arrian's account of Alexander, through its reliance on the works of Ptolemy and Aristobulus, is our best and, on the whole, most reliable account of Alexander. Recent work, however, has illuminated Ptolemy's weaknesses, and we can no longer regard Ptolemy as utterly reliable in every important respect. His version of the Alexander story is centred on Alexander, therefore Alexander is depicted out of the close context of the Macedonian court. It is only through the information preserved in other writers—traditionally, but undiscriminatingly, considered unreliable—that, for instance, the picture of Alexander's struggle with his Macedonian nobles has begun to emerge. And in matters of this kind Ptolemy's version is so much the court ‘official’ version that it cannot be regarded as trustworthy.

City archives, mined by Aristotle for his Didaskaliai, preserved a reasonably complete record of dramatic productions in the fifth century. But how far back did these archives go? The so-called Fasti, an inscription set up c. 346 and listing dithyrambic, comic and tragic victors year by year, must have been based on the same archives, but went back, it is thought, only as far as 502/1. Its heading πρ⋯]τον κ⋯μοι ἦσαν τ[⋯ι διονὑσ]ωι τραγωιδο⋯ δ[, however supplemented, implies an intention of going back to the beginning of things, in other words to the beginning of the archival record. This raises serious doubt as to whether that record went back to the alleged date of Thespis' première, or indeed to those given for Choerilus' and Phrynichus'.

There are only two passages in the whole of the works of Plato and Aristotle in which the word σχoλ⋯ is given central position and philosophical significance. These are (1) the celebrated interlude in the Theaetetus of Plato (172–177) and (2) the predominantly educational discussion of the foundations of the ideal city in Aristotle's Politics, Bks. VII and VIII. It will be as well to begin by summarizing briefly the doctrine of these two passages.

A. R. W. Harrison in The Law of Athens, i (O.U.P., 1968), 63–5, argued that the exclusion of bastards from the phratries and the severe restriction of their right of inheritance does not entail their exclusion from Athenian citizenship; and that the form of Pericles' citizenship law, not stating that were to be , and Solon's law restricting the inheritance rights of , both point to the conclusion that bastards were not ipso facto debarred from citizenship. D. M. MacDowell in CQ N.S. 26 (1976), 88–91, rightly finds Harrison's positive arguments inconclusive, but suggests that three texts provide more definite support for this conclusion.

This paper will be concerned with Pindar's often-discussed innovations in the Pelops-Tantalos myth of the first Olympian, where Pindar explicitly rejects the traditional story of Tantalos' cooking his son Pelops and serving him up to the gods, one of whom inadvertently ate from the cannibalistic dish. Does Pindar really alter traditional features of a story from religious considerations only, as the communis opinio takes him to do? D. C. Young has recently drawn attention to the astonishing formal symmetry of the ode. As to the contents, however, the old charges against Pindar's poetry, inconsistency and irrelevance, still remain (‘His method and his conclusion are not easy to unravel’, Bowra says with regard to the central myth in O. I).