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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

The remarkable poem in which Aristotle addresses ‘Αρετά and honours the memory of his dead friend Hermias is fortunate in being well preserved. The complete text is given by Athenaeus XV 696a and by Diogenes Laertius V 27, and these authorities are now supplemented by the papyrus of Didymus’ Commentary on Demosthenes, which leaves few of the textual problems in need of a solution. But the poem still raises some questions. It is not clear what kind of poem it was; its literary antecedents and affinities have not been fully studied; its contents still call for some remarks. In spite of Wilamowitz's brilliant treatment and Jaeger's acute comments it is puzzling enough to justify a few words of discussion.

The two tractates forming the treatise of Plotinus, called rather misleadingly, to the modern mind, ‘On Providence’, have attracted attention mainly because of the remarkable stress laid in them on the doctrine of the Logos, which marks an interesting development of Plotinus' latest thought and brings the treatise into an apparently close relation to other systems with which the philosophy of Plotinus has little in common. I do not, however, in this article wish to discuss the Logos doctrine of these tractates, but rather to compare certain other aspects of the thought of the treatise with their probable sources in the work of earlier thinkers, and in particular to draw attention to a curious and unexpected parallelism of thought in one passage. I think that conclusions of some interest for the history of Greek thought in general can be drawn from such a comparison.

As stated in C.R. LI, p. 168, the Jerusalem palimpsest of Euripides had been collated by Tischendorf, Papadopoulos Kerameus and Horna Mr. D. L. Page's edition of the Medea takes account of the present collation, which in its turn owes much to the acumen of Mr. Page and to his kindness in allowing me to include some of his results (indicated below by the initials D. L. P.) obtained from independent photographs. Each of the above-named scholars has found reason to correct and add to his predecessor's work, and this is natural, since not only is man not infallible but more and more is also required of a collator as time goes on.

The greatest confusion prevails among modern writers as to the use of the side-entrances in New Comedy and its Latin derivatives. The statements on this subject made by editors and others, whether confident or hesitating, differ widely from one another, and are seldom supported by any real consideration of the ancient evidence. In 1933 Professor Mary Johnston published a careful treatise, entitled Exits and Entrances in Roman Comedy (W. F. Humphrey Press, New York), in which she discussed the internal evidence afforded by the Latin plays, and came to the conclusion (page 151) that ‘on the stage of the Roman theater the side-entrance to the right of the spectators was used for entrances and exits of characters from and to the city and the forum, and that the side-entrance to the left of the spectators was used for entrances and exits of characters moving from and to the port and foreign parts, and, probably, from and to the country as well.’ With regard to Greek usage, Professor Johnston was content to accept the orthodox view ‘that the side-entrance (parodus) at the spectators’ right led to the harbour or the market-place and that at their left into the country, since the scene was regularly placed in Athens and since these were the actual topographical relationships in the Athenian theater’ (Flickinger, page 208). Her conclusion, therefore, involved a discrepancy between Greek and Roman usage as far as the harbour was concerned.

In C.Q. 1935, 72–82 and 150–163 I published some observations on Herodotus which were the by-product of a translation. Those which follow are the similar by-product of a lexicon. It says much for the delusive simplicity of Herodotus that it is still possible to reap a critical crop from an author who has been read by Reiske, Dobree and Cobet. Had van Herwerden not edited Herodotus, the harvest would have been twice as large.

The very ingenious and closely reasoned article of Mr. L. R. Palmer (C.Q. XXXII, p. 57) seems to us to deserve examination, the more so as we totally disagree with his views, both from the point of view of etymology and that of Religionsforschung. To put his conclusions briefly, he supposes mactus to be derived from a hypothetical verb macio, signifying ‘bespatter, sprinkle’; mactus then would properly mean ‘sprinkled’(with wine, blood, milk or some other fluid used in sacrifice), and might also be used of the substance which was sprinkled or poured, thus accounting for the double construction of the secondary verb mactare (aliquid alicui or aliquem aliqua re). In particular, Mr. Palmer supposes that macte uirtute alludes to the blood with which the warrior thus addressed is besprinkled, and so to his tabu condition. To the whole of this construction we object, holding that the old derivation from the root MAG is correct (though a verb *mago is as hypothetical as Mr. Palmer's *macio) and that mactus signifies ‘increased’, ‘made greater or stronger’, mactare properly ‘to put someone in the condition of being mactus’, and by an easy transition ‘to sacrifice a victim’ (to a deity, to make him mactus).