This paper is about several little-known Latin funerary formulae of some interest. It is also intended as an addition to the growing literature on what are now called in English ‘support verbs’, with special focus on facio.

So the modern editions print the opening words of the work more popularly known as the Caesares. The Symposium begins with what I consider to be a playful encounter between the narrator and his interlocutor, in which the latter's expectations of seriousness in the myth which is to follow are frustrated. This playfulness has not been appreciated by Julian's commentators. I suggest that we have here a concealed trimeter which figures largely in the dynamics of this dialogue (the word δ⋯ is to be retained in Julian's text as necessary connective tissue):

γελο⋯ον οὐδ⋯ν σὐδ⋯ τερπν⋯ν οἶδ' ⋯γώ.

Virgil's list of the qualities that are desirable in a brood cow corresponds closely to those in Varro's De re rustica and in the texts which, though later, can be plausibly taken as evidence of an existing tradition. Yet, there is one exception, and it is an exception to which the poet carefully draws attention. Varro's, Columella's and Palladius’ ideal cows all share with Virgil's and with each other hairy ears, very long dewlaps and tail, and other features. However, whereas they all have narrow hooves (ungulis breuibus, Palladius), moderate at most (ungulis modicis, Columella), and certainly not broad (pedibus non latis, Varro), Virgil's cow emphatically has big feet (Verg. G. 3.51–9):

optima toruae
forma bouis cui turpe caput, cui plurima ceruix,
et crurum tenus a mento palearia pendent;
tum longo nullus lateri modus: omnia magna,
pes etiam, et camuris hirtae sub cornibus aures. 55
nec mihi displiceat maculis insignis et albo,
aut iuga detrectans interdumque aspera cornu
et faciem tauro propior, quaeque ardua tota
et gradiens ima uerrit uestigia cauda.

The best shape
for a fierce cow is one which has an ugly head, which has a lot of neck
and whose dewlaps hang from her chin all the way down to her legs;
then let there be no limit to the length of her flank: let everything be big,
even the foot, and hairy ears under in-curving horns,
and I would approve of her being marked with white spots,
either refusing the yoke or sometimes fierce with her horn
and in appearance closer to a bull, and who is lofty in every respect
and when walking sweeps her tracks with the tip of her tail.

These seem to be regarded as quite a different type of building from houses.

The terminology used of them is to a large extent distinct. The only case of extensive overlapping has probably a special stylistic reason.

The main words involved are κλισίη (soldiers' hut or herdsman's cottage), αύλή (yard or farmyard), μσσαυλος (animal enclosure), and σταθμός/–οί (the whole complex of farm buildings). The evidence is scanty: in the Iliad there are a number of passages relating to soldiers' huts, and a few mentions of farms in similes and in the Shield section. In the Odyssey there is Eumaeus' farm. This is virtually all. There is also, inevitably, a dearth of archaeological evidence for country buildings, since the remains of these are apt to be less noticeable, and often less durable, than those of large settlements.

In the fourth book of the Aeneid Virgil presents the epic's titular hero as fated to found Rome, initially neglecting and ultimately reassuming his mission, all the while being accorded praise or blame for his progress. In this article I shall re-examine Virgil's use of the specifically Chrysippan Stoic doctrine of Fate and human responsibility in Aeneid 4, with a focus on three key points: the role of assent in creating a compatibility of Fate and human responsibility; the ‘Lazy Argument’, the position that Chrysippus combatted, that if things are fated they will happen without any effort on my part; and the Stoic conception of Fate as a chain of causes that includes human assents. I shall argue that Virgil's impeccable, almost obsessive, scholarship results in a detailed homage to Chrysippan Stoic doctrine that actually alludes to its finer points. I restrict my comments to Book Four on the grounds that the Dido-episode tests to the limit Aeneas’ resolve to ‘follow … Italy’ (361), even if non sponte, and that the juxtaposition with Dido sheds added light on the picture. I hope thereby to contribute to a topic of research that deserves renewed investigation using the discoveries in Hellenistic philosophy over the last two generations.

Before daybreak on 23 November 57 B.C., about 11 weeks after his return from exile, Cicero wrote to Atticus and recorded for him, in diary form, events at Rome between 3 November and the date of writing. Clodius and his gangs were still causing trouble on the streets, interfering with the rebuilding of Cicero's house on the Palatine (§ 2), and even molesting Cicero himself (§ 3). Clodius was a candidate for the curule aedileship; if he were elected, he would succeed in evading the accusation for vis which had been brought against him by Milo; he therefore made full use of his gangs to intimidate Rome and thus accelerate the elections. He was supported in this manœuvre by the consul Q. Caecilius Metellus Nepos, who planned to hold the comitia (for the election of curule aediles) by surprise; this plan, however, was being thwarted by the tribune Milo, who was ready to use his power of obnuntiatio (backed by a sufficient display of force) to prevent the elections being held.

The application of λἠκɛθος ànd its derivatives and the Latin terms ampullae and ampullari to the turgid or elevated style of poetry or oratory has provoked such a variety of explanations amongst modern and ancient commentators that it would be a tedious business to examine them all in detail. The ancient commentators on Horace, Ars Poetica, 11. 93–7

interdum tamen et vocem comoedia tollit,

iratusque Chremes tumido delitigat ore;

et tragicus plerumque dolet sermone pedestri

Telephus et Peleus, cum pauper et exsul uterque

proicit ampullas et sesquipedalia verba…

were not even in agreement on the question of the precise correspondence of the two words, for while Porphyrion said that proicit ampullas was imitated directly from the ληκθειος Mοcomflex;σα of Callimachus, Pseudacron's note makes no reference to ληκɛθζειν at all, but merely connects the metaphor with the inflated appearance of the Roman ampulla. And though modern scholars do not question the fact that the two words do correspond in some degree, there has been a wide divergence of opinion on the derivation and meaning of the metaphor. Ritter and Wilkins, for example, held that the meaning ‘paint-pots’ was indicated by the conjunction of ληκθοɛς with pingere in one of Cicero's letters to Atticus, and that in Horace, Epistles 1. 3. 12–14

My subject is two fragments of rhetorical commentary that appear both in an anonymous manuscript collection of quotations ‘From Longinus’ and (without attribution) in Photius' Bibliotheca. My purpose is to clarify some observations that have been made on them by modern scholars and thus offer a correction or two. The collection of separate quotations labelled κ τν Λογγνου in Laurentianus 24, Plut. 58, was given its title by a later hand different from that of the writer of the original. The grounds for that mistaken heading were that the name ‘Longinus’ appears in the second of the fragments. Aristotle and Theophrastus, however, are cited in other quotations, and most are anonymous, with as yet no particular resemblance found to wording in other rhetorical literature. Each begins with the word ὅτι. All are general remarks on subjects such as rhetorical tropes, style, and different types of speeches. They are, in effect, scholia without a text.

Cicero, Phil. 2. 9. 21

quidnam homines putarent, si turn occisus esset, cum tu ilium in foro inspectante populo Romano gladio insecutus es negotiumque transegisses, nisi se ille in scalas tabernae librariae coniecisset iisque oppilatis impetum tuum compressisset?

In A.J.P. XXXIII., pp. 426–435, Mr. A. C. Pearson attempted to prove that ὅТαѵ ‘not infrequently bears a causal signification … and that in such cases the temporal meaning is more or less evanescent, and sometimes entirely disappears.’ The use of ὅТαѵ where the verb refers to future time is not discussed, the purpose being ‘to establish that the classification which sums up the other occurrences of the construction as necessarily expressing “indefinite frequency” is incomplete; and that a rigorous insistence on its universal applicability has vitiated the interpretation of numerous passages.’ In the question of ‘causal implication’ I am not particularly interested. It is useless to attempt to deny that our English since is a satisfactory translation of ὅТαѵ in many instances, though it is not, perhaps, an easy matter to state what is the exact force of since in such cases. As to ‘causal implication’ I shall merely point out that a cause, strictly speaking, precedes in time that of which it is the cause, whereas a ὅТε-clause properly defines a situation that is of the same time as the principal clause. The question I wish to raise is whether the implication of ‘indefinite frequency’ has disappeared so completely in certain passages as Mr. Pearson thinks it has. Some of his examples are very interesting. It is not easy to see repeated action in them, and we may admit that critics have not ‘seriously pondered the results which flow from their adherence to established convention.’ But has Mr. Pearson seriously pondered the results which flow from his own conclusions ?' So far as I can see, he makes no distinction at all between cases of ὅТαѵ with the subjunctive, ‘where no other relation than that of causality appears to exist between the subordinate and principal clauses’ and cases of ‘causal’ ὅТε with the indicative.

The uneasiness caused by deberent loqui is reflected in the variant readings and the emendations put forward. Is there in fact a personal subject? To understand iuvenes is possible but clumsy, but if the tragic poets themselves are intended, then these great writers are strangely selfish. Petronius surely is talking about the proper language for good oratory (cf. 2. 7), which depends on a healthy literary language in general. This rules outWilamowitz's too particular and Fuchs's uglier supplements: easier than deceret would be deberet, paralleled almost exactly in Petronius’ contemporary, Seneca (de Ira 3. 3. 1). Deberent and deberemus were doubtless due to a desire to provide a personal subject for the misunderstood impersonal verb.

Opinion has long been divided as to the exact interpretation of the phrase de tenero ungui, the Latin version of a Greek proverbial expression The competing explanations are:

A. ‘from the depth of her being’, penitus.

B. ‘from her earliest childhood’, ab infantia; that is, presumably, from the time when the nails were still soft like those of a very young baby (though cf. E. W. Fay, A.J.Ph. xxix [1908], 205).

The Phoenissae of Euripides was throughout antiquity an exceptionally popular play, and is generally thought to be exceptionally heavily interpolated. In the Phoenissae, as in other annotated plays, a significant feature of variance between the medieval text and the text in antiquity is revealed by the scholia: verses present in the medieval manuscripts (to attempt a non-controversial formulation) were occasionally absent from ancient manuscripts. ‘Some (many, most) manuscripts are without this verse (these verses)’. Such scholia are well known: the ancient tradition, if one may speak of such a thing, was evidently in a more fluid state than the medieval.

In my first study of the borrowings from Athenian sacred treasure to finance the Archidamian War I assumed, in common with others, certain irregularities in the stoichedon order of IG. i. 324. The text has subsequently been amplified and improved by Tod, notably with the addition of one amount of interest due to Athena (line 101) and of the total amounts of principal credited to the Other Gods (line 119) and to all the gods (line 122). This further expansion, however, has introduced additional irregularities, the restoration [τάδε τοῖς ἂλλοις θεοῖς ⋯ϕέλοσι τόκο ⋯]ν ἒνδεκα ἒτεα[ιν:…] being too long by one letter in line 120 and the restoration [τάδε ἂπασι τοῖς θεοῖς ⋯ϕέλοσι τόκο ⋯ν] ἒνδεκα ἒτεσ[ιν:…] being likewise too long in line 123.