Wherever there exists any kind of administration of justice, people will soon realize that a man who makes, or receives, a declaration has to be very careful if he wants to be quite sure of its ultimate legal effect; and the same, of course, is true of all manner of legal business. A man may believe that the promise he is giving has one meaning, but later be told by the judge that it has another; or he may enter into an agreement on the assumption of the existence of certain facts, which afterwards turn out not to be as assumed. There are many ways in which such a discrepancy between verba and voluntas, or letter and spirit, or act and intent, can come about; and a not infrequent one seems to be that the two parties to a contract wish to cheat one another. Very naturally, the temptation to take advantage of a person's lack of forethought must be particularly great in an age when it is permissible to interpret the words of an agreement in a strict and narrow fashion, and when a formal undertaking is considered valid no matter by what trickery you have been led to give it. The Spartan king, Cleomenes, concluded a truce with Argos for thirty days; but he broke it by night, the truce having been made for thirty days. Q. Fabius Labeo, for the Roman senate, arbitrated a boundary dispute between Nola and Naples. He interviewed the parties separately, appealed to their generosity and induced them to make substantial concessions. In the end, there was a large strip of territory left between Nola and Naples, which Labeo awarded to Rome. By the time of Cicero, both these cases were regarded as cases of fraud and as illustrating the maxim summum ius summa iniuria. The history in Roman law of the problem of verba and voluntas has been the subject of much discussion during the past few years. I may, perhaps, be forgiven for drawing attention to a Biblical narrative which is dominated by this problem, though the commentators do not appear to have noticed it. It is the story of the sale of his birthright by Esau.