That the words πрύλις πрύλέες belong to the Cypriot dialect cannot be seriously doubted; the statement still occasionally encountered that they are Cretan rests mainly, as will be shown below, on the arbitrary and ill-judged emendation of the authoritative text which ascribes them to Cyprus. If is πрύλέες Cypriot, it is a priori probable that it should be added to the Achaian element in the vocabulary of Homer. That both words survived from Achaian days in the Doric of Crete is perfectly possible. That the dialect of a central district absorbed various Achaian forms is a well-known fact, established by inscriptions from Eleutherna and Axos; the name of a dance in general use might pass into the common speech of the island. Whether προυλέσι explained by Hesychius as πεξοîς òπλίΤаіς represents a similar survival in Boeotian, or more probably Laconian, it is impossible to say.

Plutarch's Timoleon has received little attention from scholars who in recent years have studied the sources of his Lives and sought to determine the methods which he followed in their composition. The reasons for this neglect are obvious: the Timoleon is a simple Life, contains few citations, and is universally and justifiably believed to be founded, together with the Timoleon of Cornelius Nepos, upon the tradition established by Timaeus. Scholars of the nineteenth century agreed in further concluding that both authors derived their material directly and almost exclusively from Timaeus. This conclusion does not appear to have been challenged in spite of the well-known contention of Eduard Meyer, which has won considerable approval, that neither biographer was accustomed to use primary historical authorities, each relying mainly upon biographies of the Hellenistic period which have not survived. The validity of Meyer's theory as a general principle of source-criticism will not be expressly discussed in this paper. My purpose is rather to examine the Timoleon only, especially in relation to the Timoleon of Nepos, and to suggest a method of composition here adopted by Plutarch, who, I believe, based his Life upon a secondary biography and supplemented this from a primary historical authority.

The attempts of Verrall and Tucker to discover, without resorting to emendation, a construction for the participles in v. 285 have convinced only their authors. All other recent scholars either postulate a lacuna before this line or transpose it to follow v. 288, if they do not delete it altogether. All alike assume that both participles describe the behaviour of the victim of the underworld powers.

The present paper is based on one entitled ‘The papyri and the text of Thucydides’, which I read before the Fifth International Congress of Papyrology in Oxford on August 31st, 1937. Later in the same year appeared Vittorio Bartoletti's Pisa dissertation Per la storia del testo di Tucidide (Florence: Sansoni), of which I was privileged to see a draft in 1935. I have several times saved space here by referring to Bartoletti for a collection of the evidence.

Histories of Roman literature state under Martial that his birthday was on ist March.1 Martial repeatedly says so himself. But these statements must now be questioned, since they harbour a peculiar difficulty, perhaps even a problem, whose solution is here attempted.

It is hardly necessary to recapitulate Rhys Roberts' cumulative and convincing proof that the treatise ‘On the Sublime’ was not written by Cassius Longinus, the tutor of Zenobia, but belongs to the early days of the Empire. Not the least convincing of the arguments for this date is the fact that the treatise is suggested by and put out as a substitute for the Περ ״ϒψоνς of Caecilius of Calacte, who according to Suidas taught rhetoric (σоφστενσε) in Rome in the time of Augustus. Now Caecilius was an intimate friend of Dionysius of Halicarnassus (Ep. ad Pomp. 776 τῷφιλττῳ Kαικιλψ): they were both Atticists and fellow-workers in leading literary Romans back to the best models of Greek prose style. But Dionysius is no candidate for the authorship of the extant treatise, which is not one that he could have written. On the other hand he gives a plain indication by which to identify its writer, which Rhys Roberts mentioned but did not adopt. It is the object of this paper to put this identification seriously forward.

The ancient scholia and various modern editors interpret these lines as a description of the prodigies which followed the death of Caesar. It is bold to criticize a view so widely held, but its acceptance, to me, involves considerable difficulties. The first is the long interval between Caesar's death and the date of the Ode. About this date editors vary, but the general view is that it belongs either to the year 29 or 28 B.C.

The elegiac poem of eight lines discovered in the Ceramicus and published by by W. Peek is of considerable interest for the historian. Peek is surely right in maintaining that it was composed for the Athenians who fell under Tolmides at Coronea in 447 B.C., and his general exposition of the poem's meaning is convincing. The aim of this paper is to make some comments and supplements to his interpretation and then to consider some peculiarities in the thought and technique of the poem. We may first set out a text and a translation:

λμονες ℎοῖον γṑνα μχες ελσανες λπ[ο]

φσχς δαιμονṐς ṑλσα' μ πολμοι

σὐν κακι χσετλελεσσε βροοῖσι δ πσι λοιπν

φρζεσθαι λογṐν πιοσν ἔθκε λος.

Eunomia was early personified. Already in Hesiod she is one of the three Horai, the child of Themis and the sister of Dike and Eirene, and from her family we may learn something of her nature. Both mother and sisters are concerned with the individual as the member of a community rather than as persomn in himself. Themis is a complicated character, whose implications cannot here be discussed, but we may without offence call her the mother of the social order and of the organized life of the community; Dike and Eirene are certainly social virtues which cannot usefully be practised by the individual in isolation, but if widespread make possible the collective life of the city. Eunomia too is one of the guardians of the social order, keeping the city from violence and lawlessness.

That the thirteenth Idyll of Theocritus and the Hylas episode in the first book of Apollonius are not independent of each other was perhaps first pointed out by Casaubon, who supposed T. to be the earlier of the two. The opposite view was upheld, whether for the first time or not I do not know, by Wilamowitz in his lectures, and it was assumed, without much argument, by his pupil G. Knaack, who presently defended it, with little more, against an attack by G. Türk. Gercke and Susemihl were persuaded, and later on Wilamowitz himself touched briefly on the matter. Legrand, who had doubted before, remains unconvinced, and Cholmeley, to whose chronology this theory was disastrous, took shelter behind the unsubstantial shades of Antimachus and Philetas. In Italy, G. Perrotta has supported Wilamowitz's view, but L. Bignone says that the problem is insoluble. I have myself no doubt that Wilamowitz was right, but the arguments employed have not been very cogent, and, as the evidence has not been well set out, it may be useful to outline it here and to add a little to it.

The sources of the Sicilian narrative have been recently investigated by Barber and Laqueur. The former has suggested a comparison of Plutarch's Lives of Dion and Timoleon with the narrative of Diodorus as an avenue of approach to the problem; such a comparison will be applied later in order to check the conclusions reached by a survey of Diodorus' narrative. The latter has exploited the argument from detail, a method which has already been criticized in Article I (p. 79 f.). Space will not allow an examination of each point made by Laqueur; it must be left to the reader to judge between our investigations of the same problem.

On the Athenian disaster at Aegospotami the reaction, suppressed half a dozen years before, against the régime responsible for the war and its calamitous results sprang up again with double force. The capture of the fleet, the loss of the empire, which had been a useful buffer between the selfish interests of the wealthier citizens and the predatory appetites of the proletariate, the bankruptcy of the treasury, the discredit of the whole democratic system, the grim privations of the blockade, and the imminent return of the exiles eager for power and vengeance, all portended the speedy downfall of the constitution, should the victorious enemy leave it standing. Yet the progress of the revolution was slower than might have been expected. In fact the oligarchs were at first crippled by the absence of their banished chiefs, andthroughout they had to reckon not only with a people which had long enjoyed liberty and empireand with a democratic administration already in office, but also with the middle party, disgusted indeed with the existing form of government but unwilling to substitute for it the rule ofa narrow privileged class, and led by a statesman of great ability and experience.

Lysias (XII. 73), describing how the Thirty were established in the government of Athens, begins with the sentence ναστς δ θηραμνης κλευσεν ὑμς τρι$κοντα νδράσιν πιτρΨαι τν πóλιν τῇ πολιτεᾳ χρσθαι ν Δρακοντδης πφαινεν Commenting on the last clause the judicious Thirlwall observes that ‘the precise meaning of these words is very doubtful. There is almost equal difficulty, whether we suppose that they refer to a proposition then made, or to one which was to be made, by Dracontides.’ Thirlwall has not expressed his meaning as precisely as Lysias; the uncertainty lies, not in the words, nor in the reference intended by Lysias, but in the mind of the historian, who is conscious that, whether he refers the proposition of Dracontides to the occasion indicated by Lysias or to another, he will encounter almost equal difficulty. The difficulty however, arising from the apparent inconsistencies in the evidence of the ancient authorities on the date of the appointment of the Thirty, is not Thirlwall's only, and after a century of discussion it still vexes every student of the period.

In 1461 the refugee Byzantine scholar Michael Apostolius, who since the fall of Constantinople had resided chiefly in Crete, paid a visit to his native city. There he copied a MS of Thucydides and brought the copy back with him to Crete, whither two other MSS of that author had already been taken. These few facts underlie and explain the complex relationships of at least ten extant MSS of Thucydides, which were written during the following generation by Apostolius and other scholars in Crete for their private use or more often for sale to their Venetian masters. All are descendants of one of those three original arrivals, or, by contamination, of more than one of them.

At 195B 9 it is pointed out that the Wax Block theory does not cover that large class of judgments in which no sense-objects are concerned, e.g. judgments about numbers. How can we make the mistake of judging that 7 + 5 = 11?

The simile of the Aviary, now introduced, is very simple. It illustrates the difference between potential (or latent) knowledge and actual knowledge, i.e. between knowledge at our disposal, because it has been learnt and stored away in the mind, and knowledge present and ‘alive’ at the moment. The theory is that when we make a mistake about the sum of 7 and 5 we are ‘hunting for’ the knowledge of 12, which we ‘possess’ (κεκτ⋯σΘαι) as we might possess a bird in a cage, but which we have not ‘got about us’ (ἒχειν); but we mis-take, wrongly take our knowledge of 11, i.e. we call up before our mind a different piece of knowledge.

Discussion on the Platonic Socrates in relation to the historic Socrates has to some extent subsided in recent years. The older tradition looks like maintaining itself. But the question remains a provocative one, and further light on it would be welcome. It is some years, indeed, since Professor Field showed reason to doubt whether any further light will now be found, and advised reliance on the main line of tradition, through Aristotle, in the belief that we cannot in any case reach behind it.

When Demosthenes brought Aeschines to trial on a charge of malfeasance as an ambassador, he made what seems now the astonishing declaration in connection with Aeschines' acting of the part of Creon in Sophocles' Antigone: ⋯στε γ⋯ρ δ⋯που το⋯θ' ὅτι ⋯ν ἅπασι τοῖς δρ⋯μασι τοῖς τραγικοῖς ⋯ξα⋯ρετ⋯ν ⋯στιν ὥσπερ γ⋯ρας τοῖς τριταγωνισ ταῖς τὺ τοὺς τυρ⋯ννους κα⋯ τοὺς τ⋯ σκ⋯πτρ' ἔχοντας εἰσι⋯ναι. Until the last generation (and even later) this was taken at face value as indicating that of the three actors presenting a tragedy the third (and least important) was regularly assigned the part of royalty. But that the title rôle in such plays as Sophocles' Oedipus Tyrannus or an important character such as Creon in the Antigone should have been entrusted to the third ranking actor is incredible. How is the discrepancy to be explained?

The fragmentary columns of the Fourth Book of Philodemus' περ μονσικς were the first-fruits of Herculaneum, published in 1793, with venturesome reconstructions and learned notes, by the Academici of Naples. Fragments of the other books occur in four volumes of the Collectio Altera of 1862–5. A. Teubner Text by J. Kemke, a pupil of Bücheler, appeared in 1884, upon which Gomperz made a number of improvements in a pamphlet published in the following year. Otherwise, save for a few pages in H. Abert's Die Lehre vom Ethos in der griechischen Musik published in 1899, the work has attracted very little attention; which is scarcely surprising in view of the state of the text and the peculiar awkwardness of Philodemus' Greek.