Frontinus appears only once in Tacitus' Agricola, at a moment in the text where Tacitus is filling in some background, sketching a rough history of the Roman occupation of Britain up to the time when Agricola took over as governor of the province. His appearance is brief, and the momentum of the whole section makes it tempting to see him as a mere footnote in the tale of Agricola's life and career. I will argue, however, that Frontinus' role in the text is more significant than that. Indeed, it is my contention that he is closely bound up with – and helps Tacitus and his readers to explore – one of the text's most pressing concerns: namely senatorial conduct, status and identity, in Domitianic and post-Domitianic Rome.

In his Life of Aemilius Paulus, Plutarch (quite naturally) rehearses the initial phase of Aemilius Paulus' campaign against Perseus, when the Macedonian had occupied a position on the northern bank of the river Elpeus so strongly fortified that any direct assault could only be disastrous for the attackers. Aemilius instead resorted to a cunning strategy of synchronized surgical strikes, while a detachment, the departure and direction of which were successfully disguised, managed to round the Macedonian camp. Perseus' position was thus compromised, and in reaction the monarch hastily retreated to Pydna, where in the end his luck was even worse. Embedded in this narrative is the report that, prior to Aemilius' dislodging of Perseus, the morale of the legions was sorely depressed. The reason was simple and straightforward: they were suffering from a shortage of satisfactorily potable water. This difficulty Aemelius resolved by digging wells.

Paideia – i.e. Greek culture, comprising, amongst other things, language, literature, philosophy and medicine – was a constituent component of the social identity of the elite of the Roman empire: as a number of influential studies on the Second Sophistic have recently shown, leading members of society presented themselves as such by their possession and deployment of cultural capital, for example by performing oratory, writing philosophy or showcasing medical interventions. As the ‘common language’ of the men ruling the various parts of the empire, Greek culture became a characteristic of, and thus a de facto condition for, leading socio-political positions. Whilst most elite men would have taken for granted a good cultural education no less than a leading position, an outstanding command of the classical Greek language, literature and tradition as displayed in epideictic performances allowed some orators, philosophers and doctors to move distinctively up the social ladder, sometimes reaching the ears of, and thereby wielding influence over, the emperor himself.

During the Late Roman Empire Terence was the most revered and the most quoted classical Latin poet after Virgil. Among authors both pagan and Christian, none (to judge, of course, by the surviving written record) made as frequent or as creative literary use of his comedies as Jerome, one of the most accomplished polymaths in all of Latin antiquity. In his estimation Terence ranked, alongside Homer, Menander and Virgil, as one of the greatest of all poets. Jerome had an encyclopedic knowledge of Terence's dramatic corpus and quoted or appropriated phraseology from all six of his comedies. A significant number of these reminiscences have already been identified, but others await discovery. The purpose of the present study is to make a further contribution to this particular branch of Hieronymian Quellenforschung by adducing and analysing two hitherto unrecognized allusions in Jerome's correspondence to Terence's Eunuchus, apparently one of the biggest blockbusters in the history of the Roman stage.

At Aristophanes, Birds 172ff., Peisetaerus persuades the Hoopoe that the birds would be better off building a city in the clouds. The Hoopoe announces that he will go off to summon the other birds to an assembly, so that the proposal may be approved. ‘How will you summon them?’, asks Peisetaerus. ‘That's easy’, replies the Hoopoe:

ΕΠΟΨ
δɛυρὶ γὰρ ἐμβὰς αὐτίκα μάλ' ɛἰς τὴν λόχμην,
ἔπɛιτ' ἀνɛγɛίρας τὴν ἐμὴν ἀηδόνα,
καλοῦμɛν αὐτούς· οἱ δὲ νῷν τοῦ ϕθέγματος
ἐάνπɛρ ἐπακούσωσι θɛύσονται δρόμῳ.     205

ΠΕΙΣΕΤΑΙΡΟΣ
ὦ ϕίλτατ' ὀρνίθων σύ, μή νυν ἕσταθι·
ἀλλ', ἀντιβολῶ σ', ἄγ' ὡς τάχιστ' ɛἰς τὴν λόχμην
ɛἴσβαινɛ κἀνέγɛιρɛ τὴν ἀηδόνα.

This note concerns the meaning of the phrase μελήσει ταῦτα and the anomalous use of the singular demonstrative pronoun in Aristophanes, Wealth 229. Although the manuscripts are unanimous in their readings, I argue that the paradosis should be emended to μελήσει ταῦτα.

In the course of its 53 Stephanus pages Plato's Protagoras uses the verb διαλέγεσθαι 32 times: a frequency considerably greater than that of any other dialogue. The next largest total is 21 occurrences in the Theaetetus (68 Stephanus pages). In the vast bulk of the Republic διαλέγεσθαι occurs just 20 times over 294 Stephanus pages. The ratios are striking. In the Protagoras the verb turns up on average once every 1.65 Stephanus pages; in the Theaetetus once every 3.25 pages; in the Republic only once every 14.7. The statistics reflect a fact evident to any reader of the Protagoras and Theaetetus, that the first of these dialogues is Plato's most sustained treatment of the comparative merits of the many different forms of διαλέγεσθαι, the second his most ambitious exhibition of the type of dialectic (as he has taught us to call it) with which Socrates there wins his contest against Protagoras. It is the former dialogue that interests me here.

Anyone familiar with the work of Friedrich Münzer knows that he possessed an unrivalled knowledge of the Roman aristocracy of the Republic. On the rare occasion when something escapes Münzer, it is apt to pass altogether unnoticed. The following is one such instance.

In mid-February 45 b.c.e., in a tragedy that was to plunge the orator into seemingly irreparable despair, Cicero's beloved daughter Tullia died. She had given birth nearly a month before and at first seemed to be doing well. Soon, however, her health gave out and Cicero took her to his Tusculan villa to recover. In the end, there was little that could be done. After her funeral, Cicero stayed for about three weeks with Atticus in Rome, but the constant stream of visitors offering condolences became too much to bear, and on the sixth of March the heartbroken father retired to a villa he owned on the coast at Astura, some 45 miles south of Rome. Three days later he dispatched the following anguished epistle (Att. 12.15):

Horace, Satires 1.3.117–23, as transmitted:

adsit
regula, peccatis quae poenas inroget aequas,
ne scutica dignum horribili sectere flagello.
nam ut ferula caedas meritum maiora subire     120
uerbera non uereor, cum dicas esse paris res
furta latrociniis et magnis parua mineris
falce recisurum simili te, si tibi regnum
permittant homines.

caeditur et tilia ante iugo leuis altaque fagus
stiuaque, quae currus a tergo torqueat imos

In these two lines of his instructions for making a plough Virgil prescribes (173) the wood of the tilia (lime) as suitable for the iugum (yoke); he also (173–4) mentions the fagus (beech), seemingly in connection with the making of the stiua (stilt/handle). These recommendations are both problematic, and since the latter admits of no sure solution, treatment of it is relegated to a brief Appendix (below). The body of this paper has two aims: 1) to propose a new understanding of Virgil's prescription of the tilia for the iugum; and 2) to draw attention to Virgil's use of the Hesiod scholia in his plough instructions.

The vulgate text at Prop. 3.10.17–18 reads as follows:

et pete, qua polles, ut sit tibi forma perennis
inque meum semper stent tua regna caput.
17–18om. N  17 polles T, uulgo: pelles FLP

Intense scrutiny can raise chimaeras, and Virgil is the most scrutinized of Roman poets, but he may have engineered coincidences in line number (‘stichometric allusions’) between certain of his verses and their Greek models. A handful of potential examples have now accumulated. Scholars have detected Virgilian citations of Homer, Callimachus and Aratus in this manner, as well as intratextual allusions by both Virgil and Ovid, and references to Virgil's works by later Roman poets using the same technique. (For present purposes I disregard the separate, though related, phenomenon of corresponding numbers of lines in parallel passages: G. Knauer, Die Aeneis und Homer (Göttingen, 1964) suggests several examples of such correspondences between Homer and Virgil, especially in speeches. Another purely formal mode of allusion faintly present in Roman poetry is homophonic translation (the technique which Louis Zukofsky's 1969 translations of Catullus pursue in extenso); thus Virgil's fagus, beech, corresponds with Theocritus' phagos, oak.) If genuine, the phenomenon lacks any consistent method or regular pattern (and the degree of plausibility varies); if genuine, it is very rare, even if accidents in textual transmission could have obscured some examples; if genuine, it probably originated in the Hellenistic period, although such a case has yet to be made. Virgil presently seems the earliest and most copious practitioner of stichometric allusion. A previously undetected example in the Aeneid is proposed below.

Macrobius devotes almost the whole morning of the third day in his Saturnalia to Virgil. Eustathius, in response to a question from Euangelus, examines what Virgil drew from the Greeks and from Homer in particular. In chapter 11 of Book 5, the expositor quotes and comments on some loci similes, judging in favour of the Roman poet. At the start of the chapter, he compares the bee simile in Aeneid 1.430–6 with a passage from Homer, Iliad 2.87–93:

Qualis apes aestate noua per florea rura
exercet sub sole labor, cum gentis adultos
educunt fetos, aut cum liquentia mella
stipant et dulces distendunt nectare cellas,
aut onera accipiunt uenientum aut agmine facto
ignauum, fucos, pecus a praesepibus arcent.
feruet opus, redolentque thymo fraglantia mella.

Anagrams and syllabic wordplay of the kind championed by Frederick Ahl in his Metaformations have not always been favourably received by scholars of Latin poetry; I would hesitate to propose the following instance, were it not for the fact that its occurrence seems peculiarly apposite to the context in which it appears. That Roman poets were prepared to use such techniques to enhance the presentation of an argument by exemplifying its operation at a verbal level is demonstrated by the famous passage of Lucretius (DRN 1.907–14; also 1.891–2) in which the poet seeks to illustrate the tendency of semina … ardoris to create fire in wood by the literal presence of elements from the word for ‘fires’ (IGNes) in that denoting wood (lIGNum). A similar conception may underlie the association insinuated by the love elegists between amor and mors, suggesting that death is somehow ‘written into’ love: so Propertius declares laus in amore mori (2.1.47), while Tibullus appears to point to the lurking presence of death in the pursuit of love in the lines interea, dum fata sinunt, iungamus amores: | iam ueniet tenebris Mors adoperta caput (1.1.69–70) – so swift and unexpected is death's approach that it is already present in aMOReS in the preceding line. Ovid's awareness of the poetic potential of this kind of play (if that is the right word for it) is fully exhibited in his celebrated account of Echo and Narcissus in Metamorphoses 3, where the subject matter gives the poet ample scope to exploit the humorous and pathetic possibilities afforded by Echo's fragmented repetitions of the frustrated entreaties of her beloved.

The dating of Manilius' Astronomica and of the Aratea attributed to Germanicus are both long-standing problems of Latin scholarship. The large number of significant correspondences between the two poems suggests a considerable degree of imitation and allusion one way or the other, but it is widely agreed that the internal evidence of the poems can shed no light on the direction of the influence. I would like to present a new observation, however, suggesting that the Aratea was already available to Manilius in some form by the time he came to compose his first book.

The first sentence of the Annals reads urbem Romam a principio reges habuere. Commentators observe the echo of Sallust, Catiline 6.1 urbem Romam, sicuti ego accepi, condidere atque habuere initio Troiani, and of Claudius, ILS 212 quondam reges hanc tenuere urbem. In a stimulating recent contribution David Levene also compares the first sentence of Justinus' Epitome of the Histories of Pompeius Trogus: principio rerum gentium nationumque imperium penes reges erat. A fourth potential model may now be taken into consideration: Ἀθηναῖοι τὸ μὲν ἐξ ἀρχῆς ἐχρῶντο βασιλɛίαι.

Six palimpsest folios – or, to be accurate, three bifolios – of the Verona manuscript, Biblioteca Capitolare XL (38), contain fragments of a Latin translation of Euclid's Elements: fols. 331v–r and 326v–r, 341r–v and 338r–v, 336r–v and 343r–v. The folios are dated to around a.d. 500, and the text is written in capital script in two columns. Unfortunately the folios have suffered severe damage from various chemical substances, which were used by nineteenth-century scholars in attempts to retrieve the underlying text. Nevertheless, an edition of the fragments finally appeared in 1964 by M. Geymonat.