A leading character in a play, at any rate in a major speech, is normally doing several things: he is saying what the development of the plot requires, and sometimes also expressing the dramatist's own tragic vision; he is also expressing his own thoughts and emotions, or saying what from his point of view the rhetoric of the situation requires. There are thus at least two questions to ask about the Trugrede: What is its function in the economy of the plot? Why does Sophocles give this speech to Ajax, and what light does it throw on his character as presented by Sophocles? The first question is easy enough to answer. There can be no doubt that this is a deception speech in the sense that Tecmessa and the Chorus are misled about what is going to happen, and at any rate part of Sophocles' purpose was evidently to achieve an effect of relaxation of tension or ‘retardation’. At first all is gloom and despair; then when the suicide of Ajax seems to be imminent, this speech leads Tecmessa and the sailors to think that he means to live on after all, and they express their relief in a joyful hyporchema. Then follows a messenger speech with warnings that dispel their joy but still offer a gleam of hope, until that hope is extinguished when they find the dead body of Ajax. Sophocles has thus contrived an arresting dramatic sequence to fill the interval between the opening scene and the discovery of Ajax' death. The main effect could have been produced by direct, unambiguous falsehood in the speech we are considering, but (still looking at it from the dramaturgical point of view) Sophocles presumably wished the spectators to be aware that the joy and relief were illusory, so that they could at once appreciate the tragic irony of the sailors' rejoicing. There was probably no way of informing the audience directly that the speech was meant to be deceptive, and Sophocles therefore included in it numerous ambiguous expressions which the Chorus and Tecmessa, eager to believe good news, interpret as indicating a change of purpose, whereas for the spectators, who are more detached and probably aware of the traditional version of the story according to which Ajax killed himself, they have ominous overtones and arouse suspicion, in the last lines verging on certainty, that in this play too he still means to take his own life.

It is characteristic of A. to use words that occur only once in Homer, and such a word is ἄρρητος. In Od. 14. 466 it describes the remark that is better left unspoken, ὅ πέρ τ' ἄρρητον ἄμεινον. But it has the distinction of occurring once also in Hesiod, and this time it is used of men without fame, ῥητοί τ' ἄρρητοί τε Διòς μεγάλοιο ἕκατι (Op. 4). It is clearly this line in Hesiod's proem that A. is echoing in his own, and in the same kind of sense, though, as Martin points out, A. ‘renverse en quelque sorte une expression d'Hésiode’. In the Phaenomena it is Zeus who is always being celebrated by men.

The idiom with ⋯⋯ν and negative is used by Plato, Lg. 793 b, οὔτε νόμους δεῖ προσαγορεύειν αὐτ⋯ οὔτε ἄρρητα ⋯⋯ν, and it may have been a familiar expression. But here in A., with the emphatic οὐδέποτε, it does seem rather contrived, and this may account for the fanciful explanation in the scholia that Zeus here represents the air we use every time we speak. The phrasing is certainly designed to give the maximum emphasis to ἄρρητον, which comes in enjambement at the beginning of the second line and is then followed by a strong sense pause. It is tempting, therefore, to suggest that the poet is indulging in a kind of pun on the sound of his own name, which usually has a long α in its first syllable and sometines η in its second: e.g. Call. Epigr. 27. 4 Ἀρήτου σύντονος ⋯γρυπνίη, and Leonidas, A.P. 9. 25. 1 γράμμα τόδ' Ἀρήτοιο δαήμονος. Other Hellenistic poets have contrived puns on the derivation oftheir names: Philodemusin A.P. 5. 115, Meleager in A.P. 12. 165, and Crates in A.P. 11. 218. 4. Closer to A. is the story recorded in the ancient biographical tradition of Antigonus complimenting the poet with the pun εὐδοξóτερον ποιεῖς τòν Eὔδοξον.

The popular question why Plato wrote dramatic dialogues, which is motivated by a just fascination and perplexity for contemporary scholars about the unique form of the Platonic texts, is confused and anachronistic; for it judges the Platonic texts qua philosophical texts in terms of post–Platonic texts not written in dramatic dialogic form. In comparison with these, the form of Platos early aporetic dialogues is highly unusual. Yet, in its contemporary milieu, the form of Platonic literature is relatively normal. Dramatic dialogue was the most popular form of Attic literature in the late fifth and fourth centuries. This explains why Plato wrote dramatic dialogues.

Recently Mr. E. Courtney has reopened discussion on the authenticity of the last six Heroides, a subject which had almost universally been accepted as settled by scholars.2 He also briefly discussed the ninth epistle and examined certain grounds for doubting whether it is rightly included in the Ovidian canon. In this he is following Karl Lachmann, who was disposed to doubt the authenticity not only of the last six but also of those of the remainder which are not mentioned in Ovid's catalogue of the epistles given at Amores 2. 18 f.3 This despoliation of the canon has not generally found favour since Lachmann, and in the case of Heroides 9 (Deianira Herculi) the editors (e.g. Palmer) and other scholars working on the poems (e.g. Housman and recently Dörrie)4 have without exception regarded the poem as a genuine specimen of Ovid's work.

For many years it has been recognized that serious contradictions exist in Polybius’ theory of the Roman constitution, as he expounds it in Book VI. The position has been summarized in a review of a recent publication which attempts, not very successfully, to dispose of these inconsistencies. ‘The only point of controversy’, writes De Sanctis, ‘can be whether these contradictory elements were innate in Polybius’ political philosophy and in his judgement on Rome, or whether they repre-sent two successive stages in the historian's thought, and two successive drafts of the book itself, which either the author or the editor failed to co-ordinate.’ De Sanctis’ own view is, of course, the second; and indeed, ever since 1902, when Cuntz, following hints thrown out by La-Roche, Meyer, and Susemihl, first propounded the theory of a revised edition of Polybius’ Staatstheorie, it has exercised a dominating influence over all work on the subject.

The Flavian writers of epic verse took their business seriously enough and seldom permitted themselves anything that might pass for an allusion to contemporary events: so much so that only an ingenuity that runs a risk of being perverse can wrest from them much more than what they have themselves chosen to say in their dedications or invocations. Where the man survived to complete and edit his work, such a dedication, the last thing to be written, more or less bears on its face the date of publication. The proem of the Thebaïs of Statius and the ‘Flavian Panegyric,’ which Silius Italicus inserted in the third book of his Punica thus reveal, to within a year, when the whole of the one and a portion of the other were given to the world, viz. in 91–2 and in 92–3 respectively. With an unfinished work the case is different; indeed, the very presence of that panegyric might sufficeto prove that though Silius had reached the end, in a fashion, when he finished his seventeenth book, he did not truly complete his poem or himself publish it as a whole. In order to determine at what date he got as far with his poem as he ever did, some other source of information is therefore desirable. Similarly with the Argonautica. Valerius Flaccus does not appear to have composed any more than the eight books that have come down to us, nor is he known to have published any part of them save, if at all, by recitation. It is for this reason that the proem, with its invocation of Vespasian, to all appearance as still living, has always been taken to be, not a later insertion, but an integral part of the first book, and thus a clear indication of the date at which Valerius began his task.

Diplomacy is the corpus of procedures and institutions used in foreign relations by an independent state. It is the method by which a state seeks to attain its objectives in foreign policy, namely to secure for its citizens prosperity and justice through negotiations with other states.

In the fourteenth letter to Lucilius, Seneca explains how to avoid physical danger and discomfort: the worst threats to the body come not from nature but from men in power; therefore safety lies in not giving offence. Ad philosophiam confugiendum est (11): the study of philosophy incurs neither envy nor contempt, provided that the philosopher pursues it peacefully and without ostentation.

Virgil, in his description of the establishment of a new city by Aeneas for those Trojans who wished to remain in Sicily, is thinking of the Roman practice of colonial foundation: ‘Meanwhile Aeneas marked out the city with the plough and allocated the houses (by lot)’. We may note the personal role of the founder, the ploughing of the ritual first furrow, the organized grants to the settlers and the equality of treatment implied in the use of lot (sortiri). Virgil was writing at the end of the first century B.C. at a time of great activity in land distribution, but the Romans had been founding colonies from the mid fourth century. Each colony involved the creation of an urban area and the settlement of people on the surrounding agricultural land, and so perpetuated the city state, which was central to ancient life and culture. Indeed a colony was a smaller image of Rome itself. In the early Republic, colonies, either of Latins or of Roman citizens, were established on the periphery of Roman territory, largely for military and strategic reasons. Between 200 and 173 B.C. more than 40,000 may have received plots of land, amounting to about 1,000 square miles of territory. Later, the motives for colonial foundations became more complex, being closely connected with increasing economic and political problems. There can have been few more important aspects in the development of colonies than the need to find land for discharged troops. These in the main were rank and file soldiers who would expect equal shares in land allocations.

The comic dramatists of the fifth century b.c. were notable for their preoccupation with poetics – that is, their frequent references to their own poetry and that of others, their overt interest in the Athenian dramatic festivals and their adjudication, their penchant for parody and pastiche, and their habit of self-conscious reflection on the nature of good and bad poetry. I have already explored these matters at some length, in my study of the relationship between comedy and literary criticism in the period before Plato and Aristotle. This article continues the story into the fourth century and beyond, examining the presence and function of poetical and literary-critical discourse in what is normally called ‘middle’ and ‘new’ comedy.

Masked revelry, the quaffing of large amounts of wine and the sound of flutes … this cavalcade would pass through the streets of Rome every 13th June, even crossing the forum itself. As we will show later on, a connection can be established between this celebration (the Quinquatrus minusculae) and the statue of Marsyas, the acolyte of Dionysus, which stood in the forum and was associated with freedom, wine and charivari. In turn, this connection will open the way for a new interpretation of the multiple meanings of the feast and the satyr in the highly charged political atmosphere of Late Republican Rome. The main aim of this study will be to show, in the third part of this article, how populares politicians tried to exploit the opportunities presented to them by religious festivities and ludi to draw more of the public into their contiones or to obtain a favourable verdict in a political trial.

In the Old Attic Comedy contemporary figures were criticized in the most outspoken manner. The legitimate stage seems to have departed from this practice in part with the advent of the Middle Comedy, and almost completely in the New. It might be tempting to imagine that direct criticism of contemporaries could still have been found on the impermanent stages of the travelling mimes. But there is no evidence to show that this was so. From the beginning the Greek mime laid the emphasis on the portrayal of character, on the delineation of types rather than of individuals. In the information that we possess about the deikelistai and other forms of immature burlesque, about the comedy of Megara, and about the phlyakes of Tarentum, there is nothing to show that the little plays took any cognizance of contemporary events; the only individualized characters introduced are the gods and heroes of mythology. The fragments of Sophron and Epicharmus give no indication that they attacked men of their own times, while the extant mimes of Herodas, like the mimic imitations in Theocritus, are concerned solely with types of humanity, not with individuals.

At the end of the Sixth Book of the Republic Plato explains the Idea of Good by means of the Figure of the Sun. As the sun is the cause both of the becoming of that which is subject to becoming and of our apprehension of it and of its changes through the eye, so the idea of good is the cause of the being of that which is and also of our knowledge of it. As the sun is beyond γ⋯νεσις, so the Idea of Good is beyond Being. Glaucon says he does not understand. The simile is further elucidated by means of a line, divided into two parts, of which one stands for the νιητ⋯ν γ⋯νος τε κα⋯ τ⋯πος, where the Idea of Good bears rule, the other for the ⋯ρατ⋯ν γ⋯νος τε κα⋯ τ⋯πος, over which the sun is lord. The line is to be divided unequally (the inequality representing the unequal clearness of the objects each division stands for), and subdivided in the same proportions. Thus we get a line consisting of four parts in the ratio (say) 4 : 6 : : 6 : 9. Let us call the four parts A B C D respectively, A being the smallest, D the greatest, B and C necessarily equal. A (as Plato explains) stands for εἱκ⋯νες, shadows, images in water and on polished surfaces, and the like: B stands for animals, plants, and the creations of human industry: C for the objects of that enquiry in which the objects denoted by B are treated as images, i.e. mathematical enquiries: D for the objects apprehended by dialectic, the Ideas themselves. The first equation asserted (510a 8) is—The objects of opinion : objects of knowledge : : representation : original (AB : CD : : A : B). There follows an explanation of the inferiority of mathematical to philosophical reasoning, and an explanation of the statement that the objects denoted by B are used as images or symbols by the enquiry concerned with C; as a result of which Glaucon perceives that the general distinction between C and D is that between the τ⋯χναι (as they were called), i.e. those sciences in which the Guardians (as explained in the following book) were to be educated, and Philosophy or Dialectic. Finally a special π⋯θημα or affection of the soul is allotted to each of the four divisions of the line, to A εἱκασ⋯α, to B π⋯στις, to C δι⋯νοια, to D ν⋯ησις, each π⋯θημα being clear in the same degree in which the objects it is concerned with are true.

The tribute of two maidens to the temple of Athena in Ilium was discontinued after the end of the ‘Phocian’ war (346 B.C.). We have for this the evidence of the Epitome of Apollodorus 6. 22 χéων δ τν παρελӨντων μετ τν Φωκiκν πλεπoν ἱκτiδας πασαντo πμoντεσ. In Tzetzes' commentary to Lycophron 1. 1141 the same piece of information is given on the authority of Timaeus (pp. 335–6 Scheer = fr. 66 FHG), but Wilamowitz, among others, showed that Tzetzes arbitrarily (though perhaps not foolishly) transferred the name of Timaeus from the scholium on 1. 1155.3 The information remains valuable without the adornment of an illustrious name. We know from a story of Aelian, which ‘Suidas’ partially preserved in many fragments (Aelianus, fr. 47, Hercher, ii, p. 205), that the Locrians were compelled by the Delphic oracle to resume the interrupted practice and submitted the regulation of it to a King Antigonus, δ βασiλεὺς Ἀντγoνoς øεӨν oἱ πρσταξεκλρῳ δiακρiӨναi This King Antigonus can hardly be identified with Antigonus Doson for two reasons which must, however, be admitted to be not absolutely cogent. First, the interval between interruption and resumption would be one of more than a century, whereas Aelian (though he cannot be pressed too much on any interpretation) presupposes a shorter interval. Secondly, the ‘Lokrische Madcheninschrift’ made famous by A. Wilhelm, which is an evident terminus ante quern for the intervention of King Antigonus, can hardly be later than 230–220 B.C. Wilhelm, indeed, had suggested a date c. 270–240 B.C. His date has been affected by recent changes in Delphic chronology; but the balance of probability (so far as I can see) still favours a date nearer to 250 than to 200 B.C. Thus, the more natural alternative remains between Antigonus Monophthalmus and Antigonus Gonatas. Either agrees well with the interruption after the third Sacred War.

New evidence often complicates as much as it clarifies. That truth is well illustrated by Stephen Tracy's recent and brilliant discovery that a tiny unpublished fragment of an Attic inscription belongs to a known decree (IG ii. 402). The decree has hitherto been recognised as an enactment of the oligarchy imposed by Antipater in 322. Its proposer, Archedicus of Lamptrae, was a leading member of the new regime and held the most influential office of state, that of anagrapheus, in 320/19.2 Appropriately enough the decree confers honours upon members of the Macedonian court, but as the stone now reveals, it is phrased in a remarkable and anomalous manner: ‘in order that as many as possible of the friends of the king and of Antipater may be honoured by the Athenian people and confer benefactions upon the city’. There is no question about the meaning. The decree refers to friends of an unknown king, who are also friends of Antipater. But after Alexander's death there was a dual kingship. Philip III Arrhidaeus and Alexander IV reigned jointly and are generally termed ‘the kings’. How can the singular singular be explained?

One of Sallust's main points in this preface is that individuals should strive to attain gloria (gloriam quaerere, 1. 3, etc.), i.e. should be spoken highly of by others. With this (the immediate context) in mind, the commentators seem agreed that silentio in the opening sentence must be taken in a passive sense: ‘silentio expresses not a state in which one says nothing, but a state in which nothing is said about one, i.e. “obscurity”’ (Neatby and Hayes; cf. E. W. Fabri [2nd edn., 1845], ‘so da sie sich nicht bemerkbar machen’; R. Jacobs— H. Wirz [1877], ‘die Menschen sollen von sich reden machen’; F. Antoine and R. Lallier [1888], ‘sans faire parler d'eux’; E. Malcovati [2nd edn., 1945], ‘senza far parlare di sè, quindi, con altra immagine, “nell'oscurita”’). The sequence of ideas in the first chapter makes this interpretation seem certain.

In attempting to date the Shield several complementary methods are possible. Roughly these may be classed as literary, historical and archaeological. The literary method indicates that the Shield comes late in the Hesiodic corpus: in particular the use of the F is careful. The historical method suggests a preciser upper limit. Wilamowitz believed that the point of lines 393–401, which give the season in which the combat between Herakles and Kyknos took place, can only be that a commemorative festival was held—at the temple of Apollo at Pagasae, since the scene is laid in Apollo's sanctuary. Mazon continues that the reputation of the temple dates from the end of the Sacred War and the establishment at Pherae of a dynasty with close connections with Delphi (which Kyknos was in the habit of defrauding): he therefore sets the terminus post quern at about 590. This argument is attractive and possible. Several scholars have attempted to secure a lower limit from the last sentence in Hypothesis A: κα⋯ Στησ⋯χορος δ⋯ φησιν ' Hσ7iota;⋯δου εἶναι τ⋯ πο⋯ημα. But as Wilamowitz observes, we do not know whether the poem in which this mention came (plausibly a Kyknos) was a genuine work of Stesichoros. Certainly it need not make the Shield much earlier than the Stesichorean poem, since our ‘Hesiod’ wrote his epyllion for incorporation in the Ehoiai which was attributed to the genuine Hesiod, and an insertion into such a work could have been very quickly accepted. Mazon's lower limit of 560 is then on insecure grounds. Thirdly there is the possibility that analysis of the decoration of Herakles' shield might give useful comparisons to the conclusions of archaeologists on the chronology of Greek art. It is this method that I shall attempt.