In 1943 one of the authors of this paper set out a case for the view that the sixth book of Polybius' Histories contained two layers, written at different times, and indicating a change in the historian's assessment of the achievements and merits of the Roman hegemony. The arguments there put forward met with some acceptance; but the recent burst of interest in the problems of the sixth book has shown that unanimity is still remote. Among scholars writing since 1943, one, G. B. Cardona, is a ‘separatist’ who accepts the views of De Sanctis; another, W. Theiler, believes that three ‘layers’ of composition can be detected and isolated; three, E. Mioni, H. Erbse, and H. Ryffel, are ‘Unitarians’, but vary in the date they assign to the composition of the Histories; and K. Ziegler in his R.E. article on Polybius argues for composition in the sixties followed by a revision and publication before 146.

‘ “I desire”’ Jebb, whose note I now take as read. In this and my ensuing discussion I seek to show that never has that meaning. The scholiast's note is a sophism, and Jebb's is another. Jebb says that the primary sense is to love; he prudently leaves unstated the next step in the fallacy, that to love might mean to have just fallen in love with; and he concludes that poetry ‘could easily draw’ the sense to desire. Actually applies as between parents and children, rulers and their subjects, and to other not necessarily amenable persons or not prima facie acceptable things with whom or which one has to associate continually (or, by extension, for a limited time); its general sense is to ‘do with’, to brook; it ranges from like to either extreme, be fond of or tolerate. In its various nuances it resembles which never means to ‘desire’.

In the course of a series of arguments to refute Simmias' hypothesis that soul is an attunement Socrates asks the question (93 a 11–12), which may be literally translated ‘Is it not natural for each attunement to be an attunement according as it has been attuned?’ This question Simmias admits he does not understand, and Socrates responds with another question in which he suggests that if it (i.e. the attunement) is more attuned and to a greater extent, supposing that it is possible for this to happen, it would be more of an attunement and a greater attunement, if less attuned and to a smaller extent, less of an attunement and a smaller attunement (93 a 14–b 2).if less attuned and to a smaller extent, less of an attunement and a smaller attunement (93 a 14–b 2). Neither the meaning of these questions nor their place in the argument is at all obvious, and none of the solutions offered by the English commentators seems to be without difficulty.

No pre-Socratic philosopher, perhaps, has caused more disagreement, or been more variously interpreted, than Anaxagoras of Clazomenae. Among recent attempts to reconstruct his system some of the more notable are those of Tannery, Bailey, Cornford, Peck, and Vlastos. Each of these reconstructions, and especially that of Tannery, has its adherents; and since none of them (with the possible exceptions of the first and last) has much in common with any other, a universally acceptable solution to the fundamental problems involved may well by now seem unattainable. It is my belief, however, and it is the object of this paper to try to prove, that all these modern reconstructions have at least one quality in common, namely an undue complication. The actual system of Anaxagoras was, I believe, considerably simpler than any reconstruction yet forthcoming. Unfortunately what I take to be the basis of the whole system, Anaxagoras' reaction to his Eleatic predecessors, is by.no means easy to convey in brief and simple terms. But if I should succeed in conveying it, then it will, I hope, be seen in itself to possess such a simplicity and neatness that my contention will carry with it a fair warrant of its own truth. I shall, for convenience, divide my argument into ten sections, to which I shall append a brief summary of my conclusions.

No recent scholar has ever seriously maintained the genuineness of [Andokides] Oration IV, Against Alkibiades. Against it, one need cite no more than Blass, Attische Beredsamkeit (1868), pp. 325–31; Jebb, Attic Orators (1876), vol. i, pp. 133–9; an(i now more recently Raubitschek's learned and interesting article in T.A.P.A., vol. lxxix (1948), pp. 191–210. The speech is quite ‘out of character’ for Andokides, who was certainly far too young ever to have been in danger of ostrakism as an alternative victim to Nikias or Alkibiades; and there is no reasonable doubt that its ‘dramatic date’ is early in 415, and its ostensible speaker Phaiax, the clever young orator of Aristophanes' Knights (1377 ff.), ambassador to Sicily in 422 (Thk. 5. 4–5; cf. our speech § 42, which adds Macedonia and Epeiros) and butt of Eupolis on divers occasions (Plut. Alk. 13, Athenaios 3. 106b). These conclusions, however, leave open certain other material questions, especially that of the real date of the composition, on which in turn depends the question how far it can be legitimately used as an historical or biographical source.

When the death-cry of Agamemnon is heard, the Chorus talks, but does nothing. This is the locus classicus of a Chorus which, in a situation that seems to demand effective intervention, is debarred from intervening by the necessity of remaining a Chorus. Did Aeschylus and his audience feel a difficulty here? No, says Professor G. Thomson; it is merely that modern taste is influenced by ‘the crude realism of the Elizabethan drama’. But this will not do, for it is Aeschylus himself, through the Chorus, who raises the issue of their entering or not entering the palace, which they discuss in the most realistic way. Assuming that a technical difficulty exists, with what skill and success did the dramatist handle it? Criticism has on the whole been adverse.

In the space at my disposal I cannot attempt to deal with all the points which arise in the Second Part of the dialogue, and I therefore confine myself to a few which seem to be of special interest and importance. I hope it may be possible to deal more exhaustively with the dialogue in a fuller commentary. As in the previous part of the article, I have assumed the results of my study of the Sophist already referred to.

In later antiquity few monuments at Athens had such a great reputation as what the Athenians called with pride the Altar of Eleos or Pity, the suppliants' altar. Philostratos links it in fame with Olympia and Delphi. The Athenians pay homage to Eleos along with Athena Polias, says Sopatros. ‘You have an Altar of Eleos’, says Apsines to the Athenians; ‘…for this you have a great reputation amongst all other men.’

It is always a pity to spoil an old joke, especially one that belongs to one's own profession, which has been repeated time and again, for generations, whenever a teacher of Greek is concerned with the passages in question; but when the hearty laughter is over and the last echoes of it from our obedient pupils have faded away, let us examine the Greek again. .

This article is a survey of familiar ground—those passages of the Poetics of Aristotle which throw light on the treatment of legend by the tragic poets. Although sweeping generalizations are often made on the use of the traditional stories in drama, our evidence on the subject is slight and inconclusive. We have little knowledge of the form in which most of the legends were known to the Attic playwrights, for the few we find in the Iliad and Odyssey appear there in very different versions from those they take on in the plays, and the fragmentary remains of epic and lyric poetry between Homer and the fifth century B.C. present us with a wide field for speculation, but few certain facts; while vase paintings and other works of art supplement only here and there the scanty information gained from literature.The comments of ancient writers on this aspect of tragedy are surprisingly few, and carry us little farther. The Poetics stands out as the one source from which we can draw any substantial account of the matter. Even Aristotle, of course, is not directly concerned with the history of drama, and deals with it only incidentally in isolated passages; and in considering these it must constantly be borne in mind that he is discussing tragedy as he knew it in the late fourth century, for the benefit of fourth-century readers. But even so, his statements are the main foundation on which our view of the dramatists' use of legend must be built.

A Study of the related words munia, munus, munis, and their derivatives will throw light on the original linguistic and juridical meaning of the ius municipi. It is agreed that these words all derive from a root *mei ‘to exchange' (Meillet—Ernout, p. 749; Walde-Hofmann, i, p. 255). Meillet-Ernout rightly point out that words derived from that root with the suffix -n- ‘ont servi a désigner des échanges régiés par l'usage, et plusieurs ont une valeur juridique'.

My inverted commas are intended; I mean, of whom are Schwartz and Jacoby thinking when they say that the History which was called Kratippos' was a forgery of the second or of the first century B.C. ? The reason for the question is this: most forgeries are of the form, ‘Here is an epigram by Simonides, a new chapter by Thucydides’; or ‘I, a humble scholar or an unknown person, X, have discovered the lost books of Livy, or a hitherto unknown painting by Vermeer, or a privately printed edition of Sonnets from the Portuguese’; that is, the work forged is said to be by a famous person, the discoverer a relatively obscure one. Schwartz and Jacoby, however, say, or imply, that ‘Kratippos’ was the name of the forger, a man who lived, probably, in the first century B.C., and who deceived Dionysios of Halikarnassos (de Thuc. 16) and Plutarch (de glor. Ath. 345d ); but what did he assert that his history was ? Did he say, ‘I, Kratippos, have discovered a lost history dating from a generation after the end of the Peloponnesian war which is a continuation of Thucydides; authorship unknown’? Clearly not, for Dionysios says, and Plutarch quite plainly implies, that they took ‘Kratippos’ to be an author of the early fourth century.

The following note is based upon a re-examination of the binding, the quire signatures, and the enumeration of the plays of Euripides in L first made at Florence in 1948 and checked in 1952. Its purpose is (1) to suggest that conjectures are still current about L and the exemplar from which it was copied, which cannot be regarded as sufficiently supported by good evidence to justify their retention; and (2) to attempt some further clarification of L's relationship with the MS. Palatinus 287.

(1) 583 b = p. 478. 26 Sieveking (Plutarchi Moralia, iii, Leipzig, 1929) …

is objectionable. Since Lysis is already dead, cannot here signify ‘beforehand’. Its only other appropriate significance would seem to be ‘publicly, openly’: but also enters into the compound, and can only bear the sense ‘secretly’, which would involve us in a contradiction. so far as I know, does not occur elsewhere: nearly always has the sense ‘give some indication of…’.

It is generally believed that the actors of Aristophanic comedy wore phallic dress. For example Mr. James Laver (Oxford Companion to the Theatre, p. 158) tells us that ‘in Old Comedy the actors all wore clothes grotesquely padded, and each was provided with an enormous phallus of red leather. The female characters too were padded, and over the padding wore the long chiton if they belonged to the upper classes, and the short one if they belonged to the lower.‘ Similarly Haigh (Attic Theatre, 3rd edition by A. W. Pickard-Cambridge, pp. 258-g) says that ‘the Old Comedy was the direct descendant of the boisterous phallic performances at the festival of Dionysus. … The actors therefore regularly wore the phallus.

On this the following observations should be made:

1. The sigla ABCEFM are used here as in all editions from Hude onwards, H as in Hude though not universally since, and as in Bartoletti, Per la storia del testo di Tucidide (Firenze, 1938); have not been used before.

2. In positing β as ancestor of ABEFHM but not of C I follow Hude, Bartoletti, Stuart Jones, and Powell. I differ from them in leaving out of consideration G (Monac. 228, s. xiii), which is normally considered as descending from a congener of C; since, however, one or more ancestors of G were collated with at least one manuscript related to M and probably with manuscripts of other affinities also, there are clearly no means of deciding whether G is a descendant of C or ultimately independent of C, and I have adopted the economical hypothesis that it is a descendant and must be relegated to the recentiores.