‘Ein vÖllig unverständliches Wortspiel’, said Friedlander. There have been many attempts to solve the riddle. The older commentators, following Domizio Calderini, offered a fantastic solution: Athenagoras was a doctor specializing in leprosy (⋯λφ⋯ς): ‘porro ducta uxore coepit lingere cunnum…unde factus est olficius, hoc est olfacit cunnum’! H. C. Schnur emended to Olbius (ὅλβιος): Albius Athenagoras (Greek cognomen with Roman nomen gentilicium), by marrying a rich wife, became Olbius. This explanation deprives the name ‘Albius’ of any point; nor is it particularly witty to say that Albius married money. The most popular solution points to the biblical ⋯γώ εἰμι τ⋯ Ἄλφα κα⋯ τἈ 'Σ [sc. ⋯ πρ⋯τος κα⋯ ⋯ ἔσ×ατος] it can be shown with some plausibility that the expression was known to the Romans of Martial's time – and to Martial's phrases ‘alpha paenulatorum’ (2. 57. 4, 5. 26. 1) and ‘beta togatorum’ (5. 26. 4). Before marriage Athenagoras was A in his house; now he is last, in other words, henpecked. ‘Paenulatorum’ and ‘togatorum’, however, give ‘alpha’ and ‘beta’ a context which plain Alphius and Olphius do not possess. Moreover, in all the other passages which scholars quote in support of the A–Σ hypothesis,9 a letter of the alphabet becomes a byname for an individual, and is not incorporated in another name, as would be the case with Alphius and Σlphius. The presence of two names points to an etymological, not alphabetical, jeu des mots.

A re-examination of the anonymous Commentary on the Theaetetus, henceforth abbreviated K, is overdue. It may yet prove to be the most important document we possess for plotting the course of pre-Plotinian Platonism, and is by far the largest surviving portion of a pre-Plotinian commentary on a complete work of Plato. It offers us insights into the issues of the first century B.C. which are unparalleled in other extant Middle Platonist works, either because of the subject of the work and its consequent tendency to bring to mind the epistemological debates between Philo of Larissa, Antiochus of Ascalon, and Aenesidemus, or because the author, whom we may call A, is writing at a time comparatively close to those debates.

It is now five years since P. J. Parsons published the Lille Callimachus, and the dust appears to have settled. The appearance of these fragments, which greatly increase our knowledge of the opening of the third book of the Aetia, has been followed by no great critical reaction. Apart from the attractive suggestion of E. Livrea that the ‘Mousetrap’ (fr. 177 Pf.) may belong within the story of Heracles and Molorchus, the episode has had somewhat limited impact. This is against the usual trend of over-reaction to the publication of new literary texts (witness the Cologne Archilochus and the new Gallus), and is in part a tribute to the thoroughness and clarity with which Parsons presented the fragments.

In a recent article Professor Brunt has made an eloquent plea for greater rigour in handling the remains of non-extant authors. When the original is lost and we depend I upon quotation, paraphrase or mere citation by later authorities, we must first establish the reliability of the source which supplies the fragment. There is obviously a world of difference between the long verbal quotations in Athenaeus and the disjointed epitomes provided by the periochae of Livy. As a general rule, the fuller and more explicit the reproduction in the secondary source, the more confident we can be that it approximates to the original. Our doubts should increase as the references become less precise and resort to paraphrase rather than direct quotation. The wider context is also important. One always needs to know why the secondary author is making his citation and what interest he has in a strictly literal reproduction. These principles are unexceptionable, but they are difficult to maintain in practice. One rarely has the opportunity to make a sustained experiment, checking an author's techniques' of quotation and digest against sources which are now extant. As a result the historian all too often feels constrained to squeeze the last drop of meaning out of testimonia which are by their very nature imprecise. The standard work, Jacoby's Fragmente der griechischen Historiker, is a pitfall for the unwary. It presents all citations, whether full quotations or the vaguest of references, on the same status as ‘fragments’; and the context is necessarily reduced to the barest minimum, so that the reader's attention is focussed directly upon the lost original and diverted from the machinery of transmission.

The Aristophanic relevance of IG ii2 2343, a late fifth or early fourth century cult table; of Heracles, listing a priest and fifteen thiasotai, was first argued by Sterling Dow. Dow's summary of the communication which he presented to the Archaeological Institute of America is brief and a number of his conclusions may be too confident, but something of substance appears to remain.