As was first pointed out by Gercke, there are close parallels, which clearly suggest a common source, between Apuleius, de Platone 1.12, the treatise On Fate falsely attributed to Plutarch, Calcidius' excursus on fate in his commentary on Plato's Timaeus, and certain sections of the treatise de Natura hominis by Nemesius. Gercke traced the doctrines common to these works to the school of Gaius; recently however Dillon has pointed out that, while Albinus shares with these works the characteristic Middle-Platonic notion of fate as conditional or hypothetical – our actions are free, but once we have acted the consequences of our actions are fated and inevitable – he does not share certain other common features, such as the identification of fate as substance with the world-soul and the hierarchy of three providences.

In 1884 Ivo Bruns began his Lucrez-Studien, on the relationship between Lucretius' treatment of Epicureanism and the exposition by the philosopher himself in the extant Epistles, with the question (p.4) for whom did Lucretius write? His answer was to show (p.l 1) that the general public, who were the poet's real objective, were very different readers from the disciples whom Epicurus addressed in the Letter to Herodotus and similar works. This conclusion, and the subsequent investigation of the ways in which this difference affected the treatment of doctrine in the two works, does not concern me. My interest is rather in the manner in which Bruns tackles the problem of the ostensible addressee, Memmius, and the extent to which this man remains in Lucretius' mind throughout the whole six books.

We can, I think, be certain of one thing only – that when Herodotus wrote these two passages he intended to keep the promises which he was making. In addition it is perhaps reasonable to assume that his account of the capture of Nineveh, which he promises merely would as a decisive event in Assyrian history have been included in the mentioned in 1.184. Even this however must be a mere conjecture, for although Herodotus normally makes promises and keeps them, in these two cases the details promised are nowhere to be found in the Histories as we have them.

It would be worth knowing whom the historian married. His wife's name might disclose some local tie in the Sabine country; or it might permit a guess about alliances with families at the metropolis, whether ancient in repute or newly risen to influence. Marriage is a normal device for advancement – ‘decus ac robur’. Cicero did well for himself when, about the year 79 B.C., he married Terentia. She was the half-sister of a Fabia, who was a Vestal Virgin. The Fabii are not only noble but patrician, albeit in temporary eclipse (no consul between 116 and 45).

Löwe and von Hartel (loc. cit. in n. 3) have drawn attention to the striking similarity between R's contents and those of a lost manuscript bequeathed by Philippe d' Harcourt (bishop of Bayeux, 1142–64) to the library at Bee. This manuscript is described in a twelfth-century catalogue as follows:7 ‘in alio Seneca de naturalibus questionibus et Adelermus Batensis [Adhelardus Bathonensis Becker), Proba vates, Aurea Capra, et liber Hildeberti Turonensis archiepiscopi de dissensione interioris et exterioris hominis, et sermones eius et uita ipsius.’

The romance of Leucippe and Clitophon had already been edited by I. and N. Bonnvitus (ed. prin. Heidelberg, 1601), Salmasius (1640), Boden (1776), and Mitscherlich (1792), but it was the work of Friedrich Jacobs, published in 1821, that provided the foundation for serious criticism of the text based on knowledge of a substantial number of representative manuscripts.

At one stage in his account of the war against Tacfarinas, Tacitus describes the strategy of the proconsul of Africa, P. Cornelius Dolabella, as follows: ‘excito cum popularibus rege Ptolemaeo quattuor agmina parat, quae legatis aut tribunis data; et praedatorias manus delecti Maurorum duxere: ipse consultor aderat omnibus’.

The most characteristic feature of all satirical writing appears to be its elusiveness. Though much work has been done in recent years on satire, no definition has as yet been offered that has met with general approval. However, to some extent Roman verse satire seems to be the exception that proves the rule. For in view of the statements which the main representatives of this genre themselves have made on their satires, most modern critics are agreed on their major characteristics. Yet some poems which the ancient satirists included in their collections have not been accepted as satires by contemporary scholars, while others seem to have eluded satisfactory interpretation, as e.g. Horace's fourth satire of the second book.

Such is John Stuart Mill's succinct exposition of the core of utilitarian theory. A contemporary philosopher has aptly described utilitarianism as ‘the combination of two principles: (1) the consequentialist principle that the rightness, or wrongness, of an action is determined by the goodness, or badness, of the results that flow from it and (2) the hedonist principle that the only thing that is good in itself is pleasure and the only thing bad in itself is pain. Although the consequentialistprinciple has attracted the most attention in modern discussions of utilitarianism, it is the second principle which invites immediate comparison with the views of Plato. I propose therefore to start by comparing the Platonic and the utilitarian conceptions of the good in the hope that this will enable us to see too in what sense Plato's position is consequentialist, and whether his ethical and political theories in general can properly be described as utilitarian.

The simile in Sappho fr.96 LP has been the subject of much discussion. I should like to add to this discussion yet another suggestion, which I hope will commend itself by its simplicity.

The fragment opens with a mention of Sardis (probably) and a reference to a female there whose thoughts stray to Lesbos. This female honoured the addressee of the poem like a goddess, and delighted in her song. But now she is among the Lydians. Here the simile begins:

When Joseph Partsch wrote ‘Flavii Cresconii Corippi de vita paucissima comperta habemus’ in the preface (p. xliii) to his long-standard edition (Monumenta Germaniae Historica, 1879), he was not exaggerating. Yet this has not prevented scholars (including Partsch himself!) from equipping the poet with a career, largely in Constantinople. Most recently, some of the details have been revived (albeit with decent caution) in the admirable edition of the In laudem Justini Augusti minoris by Averil Cameron. But almost every item is based solely on guesswork; the supposed career may seem to melt away under a fresh and dispassionate look at what has passed for evidence.

Among the most prominent supporters of Perdikkas, son of Orontes, were his brother Alketas and Attalos, son of Andromenes, their brother-in-law. That the latter was an unwavering supporter of Perdikkas has not been challenged, nor that his career was advanced by the prestige of the ‘chiliarchos’ at the time of Alexander's death. Crucial to the discussion of the career of Attalos, therefore, is the date of his marriage to Atalante, for which we have only the ambiguous testimony of Diodoros (above). And, while modern scholars claim that the marriage cannot be dated, they have had a tendency to assume that it was contracted during Alexander's lifetime. There is, however, a case to be made for a later date, one that will give us cause to reconsider Attalos' role in the last years of Alexander's reign and in the struggle for power that followed the King's death.

Dikaiopolis, having borrowed a beggar's disguise from Euripides, is about to return to the place where he has set the butcher's block over which he will make his defence of his private peace-treaty. He finds, however, that his (or ) is reluctant to take the plunge. ‘Forward now, my soul,’ he says to it, ‘here's [or ‘there's’] the . What does mean here? Plainly we are meant to think of a foot-race; but is the ‘line’ in question the starting line or the finishing line? The question has implications for production. If it is the starting line, Dikaiopolis must point to an imaginary line on the ground just in front of him; if the finishing line, he must point to the block. The scholia take ypanfiri to mean ‘starting line’ here; but this sense has no fifth-century support. At this date ypanfiri in connection with races meant always ‘finishing line’ (Pind. Pytb. 9.

In the opening verses of P.Oxy. 2370 (= 655 PMG) Corinna declares that she is about to sing lovely to the white-robed ladies of Tanagra. These lines come from the same poem or collection of poems cited by Hephaestion (Encb. 16.3 p.56 Cons.) and Antoninus Liberalis (25) as which must be a corruption of the original at the hands of a copyist who read the unfamiliar as .

The meaning of eluded the first editor, E. Lobel, who describes it as ‘etymologically mysterious’, and has not been investigated by others, yet one does not have to look very far to find it. or better, the singular can be understood as a formation of the same type as and ) In their verbal forms, the stems of these nouns change to e-grade giving from and from .3 If the analogy is correct, we would expect that would be formed from and a verb from

Columella in his Res Rustica always speaks of the bailiff (uilicus) as the slave of the owner of the farm, but in his Preface he states that the owner sometimes sent a mercenarius to be bailiff, and this has by some scholars been taken to mean that a freeborn labourer could be appointed. Since such a possibility is not mentioned by Columella elsewhere or by any other Roman writer, it is probable that the term mercenarius in the Preface has been misunderstood. Hired labourers in ancient Rome included slaves as well as freemen.

Both and are guaranteed by the London scholia (Pfeiffer vol. i, p.3), so the gap is reduced to the tantalizingly small one of a monosyllabic feminine noun in the accusative case, most probably of four letters. The number of possibilities cannot be unlimited. My own suggestion must necessarily remain in limbo in the present state of our knowledge concerning the poet or poets whom Callimachus is talking about, but at least it seems to me less bizarre than other restorations currently in the field.

Recent years have brought to light much new evidence which has sometimes compelled considerable revision of the consular fasti of the early Empire. Of especial importance have been the large number of tabulae ceratae forthcoming from the area around the Bay of Naples and the new fragments or reinterpretations of known fragments of municipal fasti The aim of the present paper is to examine the effect which recent discoveries have had on knowledge of the fasti for the reign of Claudius and in the light of the interpretation of this new evidence to produce a revised list of consuls for the period 41–54.

The argument attributed to the Laws of Athens at Crito 50 a ff. relies on three main propositions, firstly that disobedience to law harms persons, secondly that the relationship between citizen and state is analogous to that between child and parent, and thirdly that the citizen makes a tacit compact to obey the laws. The connection between these three is not entirely clear and I shall consider how the first proposition is related to the second, and then how the second is related to the third. Both these problems, which are important for the assessment of Plato's conclusions, appear in obscurities in the structure of the speech of the Laws.

In the Republic, Socrates undertakes to defend justice as being in itself a benefit to its possessor. Does he do this, or does he change the subject? In a well-known article, David Sachs pointed out that there seems to be a shift in what Plato is defending. The challenge to Socrates is put by Thrasymachus, who admires the successful unjust man, and by Glaucon and Adeimantus, who do not, but are worried that justice has no adequate defence against Thrasymachus. In all these passages justice is discussed in terms of the non-performance of actions which are regarded as unjust according to common morality; Sachs calls this common concept of ordinary justice ‘vulgar justice’.

In the third book of Cicero's De re publica L. Furius Philus, one of the protagonists, is assigned the task of putting the case against justice. Among his arguments he makes the familiar claim that justice is a product of society, not of nature (3.13: ‘ius… civile est aliquod, naturale nullum’). If, he explains, justice and injustice were natural phenomena, they would be the same for all men, but in fact people hold very diverse views on what is just. This argument is supported by a motley collection of exempla: the Egyptians worship Apis, a bull; while the Greeks and the Romans fill their temples with statues in human form, the Persians consider such practices to be sacrilege; various nations indulge in human sacrifice; the Cretans and Aetolians hold the view that brigandage is perfectly respectable; the Spartans used to claim as their own all the territory which their spears might touch; the Athenians used to take public oaths that all land which produced olives and grain belonged to them; the Gauls despised corn-growing and raided the fields of others instead. All these instances would be familiar to Cicero's audience.