The opening lines of Seneca's Thyestes (1–13), which feature Tantalus’ reference to the so-called great sinners, have received little critical attention. Through both an intertextual and an intratextual analysis, this article reveals the peculiarities of this allegedly canonical list of sinners by comparing it to similar catalogues in other Senecan dramas, as well as by identifying its structural function within this particular tragedy. This kind of two-fold approach enables a reinterpretation of certain key passages of the drama vis-à-vis lines 1–13, as well as a reassessment of Tantalus’ role as the creative force and architect of the tragedy.

A close reading of the contexts of several Homeric passages reveals that Homer often uses εἰδώς with ironic force. This realization sheds light on several passages discussed herein, including: 1) Homer's description of the location of Ithaca, which is shown to be Odysseus’ strategic lie that directs the Phaeacians to the local stronghold (nearby Dulichium), and 2) the manuscript reading of Parmenides B1.3, which is shown to harbour no internal conflict even if its εἰδότα φῶτα (‘one who knows’) is in a state of confusion (ἄτῃ), because εἰδότα can signal incomplete or confused knowledge, or even a lack of it. Other literary clues in Parmenides B1 are shown to support this reading.

While it is no secret that Valerius Flaccus’ Argonautica explores civil-war themes at great length, the conflicts arising on the island of Peuce between the Colchians and the Argonauts and within the Argonautic party itself in the epic's final book (8.217–467) have been overlooked in critical studies of Valerian civil war. This article argues that Valerius presents the conflicts on Peuce as examples of civil war—emphasizing the bonds of kinship between the conflicting parties and illustrating effects of this discord using imagery of stasis and cosmic dissolution associated with civil war in the wider Latin literary tradition—and thus invites reflection on the development and manifestation of internecine strife within the Argonautica.

This brief poem (Hor. Carm. 1.30) is by turns enigmatic (what is the purpose of Horace's prayer to Venus?) and slightly incoherent (why should both Horace and Glycera be praying to Venus? Are they praying for the same thing or for different things? Either has its problems). A further problem is that, if Horace intended uocantis in line 2 for a genitive, the text as it stands misleads the first-time reader, contrary to Horace's normal practice of authorial kindness toward such readers. The way to deal with this is to take uocantis as accusative (‘those calling on you with much incense’) and to insert an ‘and’ in the text to connect sperne and transfer: sperne dilectam Cypron et uocantīs | ture te multo <ac> Glycerae decoram | transfer in aedem (‘reject your beloved Cyprus and your incense-offering devotees and move to Glycera's beautiful shrine’). If this is right, it addresses the incoherencies under which the usual interpretation labours.

The article argues that the genuine first name of Philo of Larissa was in fact ‘Philio’. This claim is based on two new readings ‘Philio’ in our earliest (certain) source for the name, Philodemus’ Index Academicorum, which put other early evidence into perspective. Three other essentially independent and reliable witnesses have the reading ‘Philio’ too. Furthermore, several Cicero manuscripts preserve various examples of the alternative reading ‘Philio’. The reading ‘Philo’ in some other sources might be a mistake or a kind of nickname.

In the Commentary on the Cratylus, Proclus puts forward an original but largely ignored interpretation of Circe as weaving life in τῷ τετραστοίχῳ. This paper argues that τὸ τετράστοιχον refers not to the four genera but to the four elements. Thus what the enchantress weaves are the elemental garments that weigh the soul down to the earthly realm of mortals.

In Aristophanes’ Clouds, Socrates vents his frustration at his new pupil Strepsiades’ inability to see the eponymous chorus with the line ‘You would see them unless you have drops of rheum in your eyes as big as gourds (κολοκύνταις).’ This line is problematic, because gourds relate to eyesight in no obvious way. However, Aristophanes might have ended the verse by referring to Socrates’ initiation of Strepsiades sixty-five lines earlier by a liberal sprinkling of barley, and written ‘or you're blear-eyed with barley-groats (οὐλοχύταισι)’. If some reader added κρομ(μ)ύοις ‘with onions’ to his text as a more universally valid explanation for an eye-affliction, a later scribe might have thought this an attempted correction, and substituted κολοκύνταις, which is both metrically correct and palaeographically closer to οὐλοχύταισι than is κρομ(μ)ύοις.

These four textual notes attempt (1) to demonstrate that OT 420 as transmitted is unlikely to impossible, and to show the desirability of Blaydes's conjecture ποῖοϲ οὐκ ἔϲται ᾿λικών, that is, Ἑλικών; (2) to argue for the necessity of reading ἄν for εἰ at line 121 and of making the line a complete sentence; (3) to argue for a lacuna before line 530; and (4) to propose τίϲ ἄταιϲ μᾶλλον ἢ τίϲ ἀγρίαι ξύνοικοϲ ἁλλαγᾶι βίου; in lines 1205–6.

This note argues for a previously unnoticed allusion in Terence's Andria to Odysseus and the Sirens, in a wish expressed by the play's old man that his son will escape the alluring clutches of the sex-labourer next door.

This paper presents a graffito written after firing on a Samian-ware bowl dated to the turn of the first and second centuries c.e., which seems to contain part of a hexameter included in the well-known anthology Carmina XII sapientum, the composition of which has recently been attributed to the Christian author Lactantius.

I argue that letter 98 of Book 10 of Pliny's Letters (= Epistulae) was deliberately moved from its original position in the sequence of letters in order to serve as a metaphor for the solution to the problem of Christians in Bithynia and Pontus. This solves a chronological problem in Pliny's Letters and is evidence of the hand of an active editor.

Plutarch's Moralia mentions that Theophrastus twice delivered his native city from tyrants (1097B, 1126F), a detail that has been difficult to make coherent with our existing understanding of Theophrastus’ life. Theophrastus seems to be in the wrong place at the wrong time for this to have been possible, or to have been too undemocratic and scholastic a philosopher to have wanted to participate in these struggles in the first place. By more closely examining the nature of Plutarch's comment and the evidence for Theophrastus’ political orientation and character, this article argues that there are, however, grounds on which to take Plutarch's report seriously. It presents a case for Theophrastus’ participation in two liberation struggles in 334 and 332, without complicating the trajectory of his accompanying Aristotle to both Macedonia and Athens during this period.

This article re-examines the sole surviving fragment of Aeschylean elegy alongside the available contextual evidence in an attempt to enhance our currently very limited understanding of Aeschylus’ elegiac output. The first section explores Theophrastus’ citation of this fragment in the Historia Plantarum to demonstrate what we can learn about the original Aeschylean poem from its use within the later writer's discussion. The second section examines how the Italian focus of the fragment fits into a wider historical and literary discourse of interactions between Greeks and non-Greeks in the west. The third and concluding section builds on these findings to examine the possible Sicilian performance context of the original Aeschylean poem to which the fragment belongs. Ultimately the discussion demonstrates that the fragment is an important and hitherto underappreciated early witness of the development of influential cultural concepts regarding interactions between Greeks and non-Greeks in the west, and that the possibility that Aeschylus produced a poem relating to the victory of Hieron I of Syracuse over the Etruscans at Cumae in 474 b.c.e. is worth serious consideration.

This article explores the propensity of Iliadic landscape similes to encourage reflections on human fragility. Landscape in the similes is usually interpreted as a medium which conveys a consistent symbolic value (for example storms as the hostility of nature); however, landscape is often a more flexible medium. By offering close readings of three Iliadic similes (winter torrents at 4.452–6, snowfall at 12.279–89 and clear night at 8.555–9), this article argues that landscape allowed the poet to frame the main narrative in various ways, both helping the listener to imagine described events and interrupting the listener's immersion in the main narrative. While many have analysed how similes offer analogies to the main narrative, the ways in which the same simile can also disrupt and reframe the narrative are less understood. This article observes that shifts in narrative space and time played a key role in changing the perspective of the listener. Taking a broadly phenomenological approach, it proposes that embodied descriptions of space, which recreate the experience of the moving body in landscape, invite the listener to consider the temporal scale of the natural world. By looking at how landscape in select similes shifts the listener's spatial and temporal experience, this article argues that landscape contributes to the wider Iliadic theme of human fragility. In particular, it identifies the potential for landscape similes to minimize the scale of human experience, question the possibility of human agency, and reveal the limitations of human perspectives and knowledge.

Interpretations of Euripides’ Heracles often focus on Theseus’ and Heracles’ cooperative social values in the final scene as a culmination of themes of philia. I argue that the relationship Theseus forges competes with Heracles’ attachment to his household, oikos, which is the central social relationship Euripides describes. The drama consistently develops Heracles as his household's leader by inviting the audience to compare Heracles with interim caretakers Megara and Amphitryon, and later through the protagonist's performance of emotional attachment before and after his madness. The closing scene continues to reveal the value and vulnerability of household attachment by accentuating Heracles’ exclusion from the identity of human family member. This trajectory suggests a painful misalignment between Heracles’ experience in the oikos and the public position Theseus offers at Athens: of a semi-divine hero receiving public cult and honours. Euripides emphasizes this tension to distinguish the experience of oikos-membership.

This paper contributes to the textual criticism of Achilles Tatius’ novel Leucippe and Clitophon by proposing a number of alterations to the text of the most recent edition of the complete novel (Les Belles Lettres) (Paris, 1991).

The Telchines, magical craftsmen and wizards, are best known for their criticism of Callimachus’ poetry in the prologue to the Aetia. The other two appearances of the Telchines are also in programmatic passages in Callimachus’ extant works. In the Hymn to Delos (30–3), the narrator asks an aporetic question about the theme of his song. There, the Telchines are the makers of the trident used to form every island but Delos, highlighting her singular status as uniquely created without force (30–3). In Aet. fr. 75, the Telchines appear in Xenomedes’ history of Ceos. There, Callimachus explicitly names one source for his material, but omits direct citation of equally important sources, namely Pindar and Bacchylides, while still alluding to their songs. This article examines verbal and thematic parallels among these three passages and argues that Callimachus uses the Telchines not only to link the passages but also to comment on his authorial process, his use of sources and his poetic programme.

This article argues that the word ψυχαγωγία and its cognates which are found in the writings of Philodemus retain a semantic connection to the domain of magic and are best translated in terms of ‘enchantment’ rather than the more generic sense of ‘entertainment’.

Eumenides 517–25 contains a centrepiece of Aeschylean ideology—the role of punishment and fear in the ruling of the city. However, the text is vexed by serious issues at lines 522–5. This paper reassesses the main problems, reviews the most influential emendations, and puts forward a new hypothesis. It argues in favour of circumscribing the corruption, offering a new interpretation that permits retention of parts of the text that most editors have deemed impossible to restore.

This article introduces and clarifies a neglected sense of the word ἤ (‘or’) employed by Aristotle and other authors. In this sense, called ‘indifferent’, ἤ signifies ‘one or the other, regardless of which’. It is shown how attention to this use makes it possible to explain the source of the ambiguity of certain sentences, most obviously, though not exclusively, sentences that make a necessity claim about an embedded disjunction, for example ‘It is necessary that A or B’. Why this sense cannot be explained, as some scholars have suggested, by the distinction between exclusive and inclusive ἤ is also discussed. Finally, it is shown how awareness of this sense might rescue Aristotle from a gross inconsistency.