Scholarship on Ecclesiazusae (as on Wealth) has been largely divided between those who are in favour of a fantastical/positive reading of the play and view it as a celebration of comic energy void of serious social critique, and those who argue for an ironic/satirical interpretation and deem Praxagora's plan as a spectacular failure. The unsuccessful realization of the new political programme is often regarded as a commentary on the state of democracy at the time. Other views are more affirmative of the democratic values of the play: Scholtz claims that the women in Ecclesiazusae succeed into putting into action Lysistrata's dream of a cohesive civic order, although, according to him, the play does not present ‘an unambiguously pro or contra viewpoint vis-à-vis gynaecocratic communalism’. Rothwell believes that the satire is directed against the greedy dēmos rather than against Praxagora's plan. He sees the persuasion exercised by women as ‘a benevolent and indispensable force in democracy’, and argues that the women of Ecclesiazusae, like the women in Lysistrata, strive to assure the continuity of the community; in his view, the play is about ‘the potential advantages of leadership in building a community’. Moodie also outright rejects a threatening or pessimistic reading, and makes the case that the audience is encouraged to take the women seriously as political actors owing to their unusual interaction with the audience and the rupture of dramatic illusion, which creates a rapport between the women and the audience. If the play is subversive, it is so only in its ‘non-satirical presentation of female leadership’.

In his lengthy survey of the cosmic devastation wrought by Phaethon's disastrous chariot ride, Ovid includes two catalogues detailing the scorching of the world's mountains (Met. 2.217–26) and rivers (2.241–59). Ovid enlivens these lists through his usual play with sound patterns and revels in the opportunity to adapt so many Greek names to Latin prosody; for instance the opening line of the catalogue of mountains (ardet Athos Taurusque Cilix et Tmolus et Oete, 2.217) masterfully illustrates both of these features. The lists are also brimming with playful erudition. To take but a few examples: a dried-up Ida belies its standard epithet πολυπῖδαξ, ‘many-fountained’ (2.218); the sun's heat doubles the flames of volcanic Etna (2.220); burning Xanthus is destined to burn again (2.245; cf. Hom. Il. 21.330–82); and the famous gold-bearing sands of the Tagus are melting (2.251). These features not only ‘relieve monotony’; they warrant the catalogues’ inclusion in the category of Ovid's most entertaining.

Greek New Comedy, as we know it from references and fragmentary MSS., is the meeting-place of three confluent streams—comedy of manners, Aristophanic comedy, and tragedy. From Sicilian comedy, through Epicharmus at Syracuse and Crates and Pherecrates at Athens, it inherited certain stock stage figures, and a tradition of ‘invented’ plots and sententious speech. Old Comedy it resembled in its fun and informality and many stage conventions; and, indeed, the resemblance was so marked, in at least one of the later plays of Aristophanes, that the writer of his life, mistaking effect for cause, claimed the lost Cocalus as the original model of New Comedy. Perhaps most important of all was the influence of tragedy; and this influence may be estimated by a direct comparison between Euripides and Menander, both in the spirit and form of their plays and in the social and philosophic theories underlying them.

Since Epigonus spent most of his life in Sicyon, it seems likely that Lysander was himself one of the associates of Epigonus that the passage mentions. This would place him in the latter part of the sixth century. But we have no further information about Lysander, and nothing of what is known of Epigonus is any help in the interpretation of the present account. Some innovations in kithara-playing are being credited to Lysander, but what they are is far from clear.

‘The sudden emergence of all the post-classical functions of habeo+Infinitive in Tertullian is very remarkable’, as Mr. Coleman has said in his important paper (p. 226) on the origin and development of this structure, so prominent in the formation of the Future and Conditional paradigms of the main Romance languages. The functions which he has in mind are all Prospective: he distinguishes meanings tangential, as he puts it, to Possibility, Obligation/Necessity, Futurity, and, for the past tenses of habeo, Futurity-in-the-Past and Conditioned Unreality (p. 217). In this he essentially follows received opinion, though there have been those who would also distinguish a meaning tangential to Volition. Mr. Coleman gives these short shrift (p. 217 n. 3, p. 219 n. 2). Whether rightly, the reader may judge from what follows.

Herodotus is a fascinating author, not only to scholars of history, but also to a wide spectrum of scientists, such as engineers, who are not usually considered to be relevant to humanistic studies. A strong indication of the persisting interest in Herodotus is the recent proliferation of books, for example those of C. Dewald and J. Marincola and A.M. Bowie, on various aspects of his work. At the same time, there is a remarkable interest in the evolution of knowledge in different scientific fields which promotes the understanding of a) the relationship between socio-economic phenomena and technological progress and b) the process of acquiring and documenting scientific knowledge. In the field of hydraulics and hydrology in particular, this interest is documented by journal papers (for example by L.W. Mays et al. and D. Koutsoyiannis et al.), books (for example by A.K. Biswas, Ö. Wikander), book chapters (for example by A.I. Wilson) and conference proceedings.

At W.D. 202–12 Hesiod relates his αἶνος for the edification of the recalcitrant βασιλ⋯ες, who must themselves admit the truth of the fable's moral (ɸρονέουσι κα⋯ αὐτοῖς). A hawk has seized a nightingale, and crushes her cries of misery by saying that she is in the claws of one who is πολλ⋯ν ⋯ρείων and who is therefore at liberty to dispense with her as he pleases: anyone who tries to resist κρείσσονες is mad, for he has no chance of winning and merely adds physical pain to the shame of defeat.

Just what were the βασιλ⋯ες to have made of this? Hesiod's most recent editor (and champion) claims that ‘Hesiod does not manage to make it [the αἶνος] into a lesson for them [the kings]’, and ‘can only proceed by saying “Well, don't you behave like that” (213, with Perses replacing the incorrigible kings)’.

The change of the Greek aspirates into the voiceless spirants of the modern language was already beginning to appear in some of the ancient dialects. The intermediate stage in this development is naturally that of affricates, ph, th, kh, becoming pf, tp, kx respectively, a stage seen in such spellings as μετνλλακχóτα. The evidence of the inscriptions shows that the change was not readily effected in Attic, and the clearest mark of this conservatism is the interchange of aspirates and tenues.

‘Tu tuo praecipitante iam et debilitato tribunatu auspiciorum patronus subito exstitisti …; tibi M. Bibulus quaerenti se de caelo seruasse respondit idemque in contione dixit, ab Appio tuo fratre productus, te omnino, quod contra auspicia adoptatus esses, tribunum non fuisse. tua denique omnis actio posterioribus mensibus fuit, omnia quae C. Caesar egisset, quod contra auspicia essent acta, per senatum rescindi oportere; quod si fieret, dicebas te tuis umeris me custodem urbis in urbem relaturum.’

There are two women called Salpe who are said to have written books in antiquity: one is described by Athenaeus (7.322a) as the name or pseudonym of a writer of ‘Paignia’ the other is cited by Pliny the Elder who calls her at one point Salpe obstetrix. Salpe is a rare name in antiquity—I know of no other examples—and few ancient books were ascribed to women. That two of these rare female writers should be called by the same name is something of a coincidence. That the name they shared was the very rare Salpe is a priori distinctly unlikely. It is much more plausible that they were one and the same.

IN C.Q. N.S. xiii (1963), 1578ff., M. L. West discusses various non-Greek traditions which throw light on the interpretation of Pherecydes. Of course problems remain, but one of these the comparative material may yet solve. Is West correct in suggesting (p. 157) that we emend the Suda entry on Pherecydesand so reduce the seven recesses to five ? A convincing analogy can help us here. G. S. Kirk has already compared the seven gates which Ishtar has to penetrate when she descends into the underworld. Despite all his reluctance to admit oriental influence on Pherecydes, he sees this as a possible source.

Dio-Xiphilinus, Herodian, and the Historia Augusta give three apparently contradictory accounts of the circumstances in which Commodus' all-powerful praetorian prefect, Sex. Tigidius Perennis, was overthrown in A.D. 185. My purpose here is not to try to decide between them, but primarily to correct what I think a patent misinterpretation, now current, of a crucial statement in that given by Xiphilinus in his epitome of Dio.

Glos, who had been in command of the fleet and was married to the daughter of Tiribazus, fearful that it might be thought that he had cooperated with Tiribazus in his plan and that he would be punished by the King, resolved to safeguard his position by a new project of action. Since he was well supplied with money and soldiers and had furthermore won the commanders of the triremes to himself by acts of kindness, he resolved to revolt from the King.

‘My own father’, Achilles says to Priam in the last book of the Iliad, ‘was a rich man and a powerful one. He was king of the Myrmidons, and he had a divine wife. But even so the gods gave him evils too. He had no family, only one son, and that son a παναώριος one. I do not look after him in his old age, but am far away, sitting here in Troy, inflicting misery on you and your children.’

The problem I propose to discuss is the meaning of παναώριος. The word is unique to this passage, and the standard translation ‘of all-untimely fate’ or ‘doomed to die young’ is open to many objections. I shall argue that by describing himself as ‘untimely’ what Achilles means is that he is someone who is always doing the wrong thing at the wrong time, a misfit. It may seem a petty point, hardly worth the long argument that will be needed to establish it. But it has consequences for our judgement of the Iliad as a whole. If the one interpretation is correct, then Homer is content to repeat his effects without regard to the situation of his characters, which in any other author we would call careless writing. On the other interpretation he is capable of focusing down to quite detailed nuances. The question is not therefore one of lexicology alone but also of literary criticism.

The translation ‘all-untimely doomed’ has warrant from antiquity. Leaf quotes a scholium παντελ⋯ς ἄωρον ⋯ποθανούμενον, and the word ⋯ωρία is used by a scholiast at 1.505 to refer to the fate by which Achilles was to die early.

Aeschylus has just defeated Euripides in the verse-weighing round of their contest. In 1407–10 he issues a final challenge, that with two lines he could outweigh Euripides' whole household. But as it stands the challenge is incomplete; to finish it we need something like ‘and my poetry would easily appear the heavier’. Perhaps Aeschylus is interrupted by the next speaker— or, it has been suggested, by a thunderclap heralding the arrival of Pluto.

SOME suggestions are here made for improvement of the text and understanding of Pliny's Eastern Aegean geography. The editions studied for the purpose are Detlefsen's special edition of the geographical books (Sieglin's Quellen und Forschungen, vol. ix, Berlin, 1904) and Mayhoff's Teubner vol. i (1906).

The citations of MSS. readings given below are normally taken from Mayhoff's apparatus, which (though not necessarily more accurate) gives a fuller coverage than Detlefsen's. The MSS. are cited by the letters given them in Mayhoff's edition and the Budé Pliny book i (1950), pp. 37 f. One further MS., hitherto not collated in the geographical books, is here cited. Following Campbell, who first drew attention to it, I cite it as c. This MS., formerly in the Phillipps collection in Cheltenham and now in the Pierpont Morgan Library (M. 871), is assigned to Lorsch and said to be of the first half of the ninth century. It seems thus to be somewhat older than A and E, and in that case is the oldest known surviving MS. of the geographical books.