The final section on the aorist indicative in Goodwin's Moods and Tenses identifies the following usage: ‘In questions with τί οὐ [‘why not’], expressing surprise that something is not already done, and implying an exhortation to do it’. Other scholars identify urgency or impatience in these questions. Albert Rijksbaron writes: ‘Questions with the 1st or 2nd person of the aorist indicative, introduced by τί οὖν οὐ or τί οὐ, often serve, especially in Plato and Xenophon, as urgent requests [original emphasis] … The aorist indicative is more emphatic than the present: the speaker observes that a state of affairs which he apparently wants to occur has, in fact, not occurred, and he asks his interlocutor why it has not.’ Kühner and Gerth explain it as follows: ‘Der Redende wünscht in seiner Ungeduld gewissermassen die begehrte Handlung als eine schon geschehene zu sehen’ (‘the speaker impatiently wants, as it were, to see the desired action as one that has already been done’). They contrast allegedly less urgent examples in the present (‘der Ton der Frage ist alsdann ruhiger’, ‘the tone of the question is thereby milder’). These scholars stress the pastness of the aorist tense in communicating urgency and impatience: ‘Why have you not …?’. This remains the dominant view, regularly repeated in commentaries.

At the beginning of Aeneid 12, a truce is agreed so that Aeneas and Turnus can fight each other in single combat (12.161-215). But this truce is violated through the instigation of Turnus’ sister Juturna (222–56), who in turn has been instigated by Juno (134–60). The Italian Tolumnius casts a spear that kills an Etruscan warrior (257–82). Aeneas pleads for calm and the maintenance of the truce, but he in turn is wounded by an arrow (311–23). Turnus, seeing the Trojans in disarray, rushes into battle, and a general engagement ensues (324–82). So Turnus, even if he did not instigate the breach, does nothing to heal it, and for that reason alone (in the eyes of some commentators) is a criminal, who deserves his ultimate death at the hands of Aeneas.

I desire to invite the attention of students of Plato and of Greek mathematics to a solution of a passage which has long been a field of controversy for critics. For brevity's sake I shall take for granted an acquaintance with the two solutions which at present dispute the field, and further adopt certain positions which previous enquirers have established beyond reasonable doubt.

From 330 b.c. Alexander transformed his court by adopting a number of court personnel and practices from the Achaemenids. This included the adoption by the king of a mixed Persian and Macedonian royal costume, proskynēsis, Persian spear-bearers and certain Persian officers, such as the chiliarch and the chief usher (εἰσαγγελεύς). But Alexander also used an imposing tent and an audience style modelled on that of the Great King. It is my intention here to investigate the Persian-style tent of Alexander and the two court offices called the chiliarch and chief usher, associated with the king's new audience-style.

Use of rhetorical figures has been an element of persuasive speech at least since Gorgias of Leontini, for whom such deliberate deviations from ordinary literal language were a defining feature of what he called the ‘psychagogic art’. But must we consider figures of speech limited to an ornamental and merely stylistic function, as some ancient and still many modern theorists suggest? Not according to contemporary cognitive rhetoric, which proposes that figures of speech can play a fundamentally argumentative role in speech by evoking a level of shared meaning between speaker and listener, and simultaneously by affording the possibility of reorganizing this common ground. This paper argues that, in Latin literature, zeugma—the ‘linking together’ of two elements (usually nouns or prepositional phrases) with a third (usually a verb) that is semantically compatible with only one of them—can and very often does operate argumentatively, and that it does so by surfacing figurative relationships that normally remain below the conscious awareness of Latin speakers and by imparting a certain structure to these relationships. What very often motivates the selection of elements within zeugma—and what makes zeugma more than simply a stylistic device—are in fact metaphorical structures that are highly conventionalized in Latin's semantic system. In tapping into symbolic associations that are deeply entrenched in the language and thought of Latin speakers, zeugma therefore provided a ready-made device for constructing arguments in context.

Niebuhr saw that several paragraphs had been lost from the beginning of the Caesar; Ziegler suggested that the lacuna extended to the end of the Alexander. Both hypotheses are confirmed, if the identification of two new fragments is admitted.

At 10. 11 p. 368, Zonaras is epitomizing the text of Caes.; he recounts the Story of Caes. 60. 3, and continues: Editors leave the provenance of the passage unspecified: ‘addita sunt pauca de nomine Caesaris‘ (Wolf). The correction of the vulgar error might perhaps be an inference of Zonaras himself—though such an original contribution to historical polemic would be unique; but the erroneous version, at least, must come from somewhere. It is not found in any of Zonaras' sources for this period, nor in any surviving book which he certainly knew. Nor is it likely to be an addition from his own general knowledge.

Suetonius’ Lives of the Caesars contain at least twenty discrete anecdotes about childhood (pueritia) and youth (iuuenta or adulescentia) spread across the Lives. Some characterize the Caesars by looking forwards (foreshadowing) and others do so by looking backwards (flashbacks). In both foreshadowing and flashback, the childhood anecdote shows continuity with the adult and creates the impression of lifelong consistency of character. The foreshadowing technique is also something other ancient biographers do; the flashback is something that appears to be unique to Suetonius. In this note I briefly consider the stories from childhood and youth that foreshadow character traits and themes of the rest of the Life, and then the flashbacks from the adulthood section of the Life that refer to childhood and youth in order to demonstrate vices of the grown adult. I show that the use of foreshadowing and flashbacks contributes to the appearance of a fully formed character in the child that will be consistent into adulthood, as well as facilitating the rubric system of arranging material by type rather than by time.

The purpose of this paper is to protest against the opinion that Catullus' Elegiacs are careless and uncouth. It will be shown that in many details his metre resembles that of the Augustan Elegists, and then it will be argued that some of the points in which Catullus differs from the Augustans are signs not of incompetence or indifference but of a deliberate adjustment of metre to content

From Patristic writings ample evidence can be gathered about the important part which hymn-singing held in Early Christianity. Until recently, however, Early Christian hymnography was known only from documents transmitting the text but not the music. The discovery and publication of a Christian hymn in Greek with musical notation was, therefore, bound to change the whole aspect of studies concerned with the history of Early Christian music. This happened, as is well known, in 1922 when, under No. 1786 of the fifteenth volume of the Oxyrhynchus Papyri A. S. Hunt edited a fragment of a hymn, dating from the late third century, together with a transcript of the music by H. Stuart Jones. For the first time it became possible to realize what kind of music Greek-speaking Christians in Egypt sang in praise of the Lord.

Crime pays, says Polus at Gorgias 473. Socrates, on the other hand, maintains two propositions in the face of universal opinion:

The first point that Tacitus makes is the confusion that surrounded these elections. Tiberius' policy was in no way as well denned here as it apparently was in the case of the praetorship elections:

De comitiis consularibus, quae turn primum illo principe ac deinceps fuere, vix quicquam firmare ausim: adeo diversa non modo apud auctores, sed in ipsius orationibus reperiuntur.

This long and complicated sentence has not been correctly translated nor clearly explained by any of the editors of the Phaedo that I have been able to consult. Bekker, Stallbaum, Wohlrab, Geddes, Wagner, Archer-Hind, Williamson, Burnet, in their notes on the passage say much that is true, but all seem to fall into certain errors. None of them has given an accurate and coherent picture of the passage as a whole. In attempting to supply such a picture I have pointed out what I believe to be the mistakes of these editors, and on certain points of grammar, textual criticism, and interpretation I have some new suggestions to offer. So much emphasis on one sentence is not misplaced, for this is an important sentence, the culminating point of the first section of the dialogue, and containing in brief the essence of the ethics which Plato expounds through the mouth of Socrates. It is the peroration of Socrates' Apologia pro Vita sua, introduced by the impressive words: ⋯ μακ⋯ριε ειμμ^iota;α, a form of address often used by Socrates in passages of ‘pith and moment’.

It is, I think, generally believed that the last oracle delivered at Delphi was that given to Oreibasios announcing the inability of Apollo to prophesy there again. This oracle begins with the line: εἴπατε τῷ βασιλ⋯ϊ· χαμα⋯ π⋯σε δα⋯δαλος αὐλ⋯ and has been translated by Swinburne as The Last Oracle. Of it Myers wrote: ‘(It is) the last fragment of Greek poetry which has moved the hearts of men, the last Greek hexameters which retain the ancient cadence, the majestic melancholy flow.’ But there is evidence which suggests that this was, in fact, not the last prophetic utterance of the Pythian god, and no ancient authority implies that it was.