1.

 INTRODUCTION  

Dialogue   epigrams   are   based   on   certain   communication   patterns   that   are   formed   by  
using  certain  elements  of  language.  In  this  study,  I  discuss  the  linguistic  features  of  
these   patterns   and   I   provide   a   typology   of   dialogue   epigrams   as   a   framework   for  
these   analyses.   I   focus   on   the   structure   and   language   of   the   dialogue   verse  
inscriptions,   but   I   give   non-­‐inscribed1  parallels   in   order   to   discuss   the   development  
of  the  epigram  genre.    

 
1.1 Subject  and  structure  of  this  study  

The  core  element  of  this  study  is  the  dialogue  epigram  typology  that  I  created.  The  
typology  is  based  on  the  turn  division  and  on  aspects  of  this  division.  I  have  divided  
the   material   into   three   categories,   and   I   discuss   the   typical   features   of   each   type.  
What  kinds  of  turns  form  the  dialogues?  How  are  the  turns  marked?  What  kind  of  
adjacency  pairs  do  the  turns  form?2  How  are  these  turns  (a)  linked  together  with  and  
(b)  separated  from  other  pairs  in  multi-­‐pair  epigrams?  These  are  some  of  the  main  
points  of  this  study.  The  typology  also  helps  to  combine  verse  inscriptions  and  non-­‐
inscribed   epigrams,   and   to   detect   the   development   towards   more   narrative-­‐based  
epigrams.   This   material   offers   valuable   information   on   the   ways   to   communicate  
certain  facts  on  monuments,  but  also  about  the  mutual  influence  of  the  monumental  
and  the  fictive  texts.  
In   order   to   make   my   analyses   fully   comprehensible,   I   proceed   from   the  
general   to   the   specific.   Firstly,   I   briefly   discuss   the   history   of   epigrams   and   how  
dialogue   epigrams   are   presented   in   this   context   (Section   1.2).   Secondly,   I   give   an  
overview  of  my  material,  dates,  proveniences  and  composers,  or  what  we  know  of  
them  (Section  1.3),  as  well  as  a  summary  of  relevant  previous  studies  (Section  1.4).  
Finally,  I  explain  the  methodology  which  I  used  in  this  study  (Section  1.5).    

                                                                                                                         
1
 I  will  use  the  term  non-­‐inscribed  epigram  to  denote  the  epigrams  that  were  not  written  primarily  for  
the  monuments.  
2
 I  will  discuss  the  adjacency  pairs  and  the  turns,  and  explain  the  terms  more  closely  in  Section  1.5.  
Note  that  the  word  ’Chapter’  is  used  to  refer  to  the  chapter  as  a  whole  and  ’Section’  is  used  to  refer  
to  the  subsection  within  the  chapter.  

  1  
 Before   the   detailed   analysis   of   the   typology   and   each   type,   I   discuss  
terminology,   speakers   and   speaker   pairs,   and   also   the   possible   performance   and   the  
reception   of   the   epigrams   in   Chapter   2.   What   makes   dialogue   and   what   does   the  
dialogue  epigram  mean?  Who  are  the  speakers  in  these  epigrams?  As  the  examples  
will  show,  there  are  fixed  speaker  roles  that  form  a  certain  set  of  speaker  pairs.  Most  
of  these  epigrams  are  grave  inscriptions,  as  is  revealed  in  the  speaker  roles.  On  the  
basis   of   both   structure   and   content,   I   suggest   that   these   epigrams   were   possibly  
performed.3  I  discuss  the  reading  situation,  the  possible  performance,  the  audience  
and  what  kind  of  evidence  for  these  aspects  my  material  offers.  In  Chapter  2,  I  also  
sum  up  the  early  stages  of  the  dialogue  form.    
In   Chapters   3–5,   I   analyse   in   detail   the   language   and   the   structure   of   the  
dialogue   epigrams   within   the   framework   of   my   typology.   Each   of   the   types   is  
discussed  in  its  own  chapter  (type  1  in  Chapter  3,  type  2  in  Chapter  4  and  type  3  in  
Chapter   5).   At   the   beginning   of   each   of   these   chapters,   I   give   a   paradigm   of   the   type  
in   question   and   explain   my   criteria   for   the   division.   After   this,   I   analyse   the   basic  
structure  of  the  type  and  the  linguistic  details  characteristic  of  each,  giving  examples  
and   discussing   the   variants   of   each   type,   and   also   the   similarities   and   differences  
between   these   three   types.   At   the   end   of   each   of   these   three   chapters,   I   briefly  
discuss  some  fictive  parallels.    

Type-­‐1   epigrams   consist   of   one   adjacency   pair,   and   type-­‐2   of   several   pairs,  
the   amount   of   which   varies.   Type-­‐3   epigrams   are   combinations   of   long   units,   for  
example   whole   stanzas   as   a   turn   each,   and   there   are   often   three   speakers   in   the  
epigram.   In   the   analyses,   features   such   as   address,   imperatives,   interrogatives,  
particles  and  question  structures  are  important.  Some  of  the  linguistic  elements  are  
repeated  in  every  type:  this  is  why  features  such  as  question  structures  are  discussed  
in   more   detail   in   Chapter   3   and   referred   to   briefly   in   the   following   chapters.   In  
Chapter   4,   I   discuss   the   particles   in   detail.   Although   they   occur   in   two   other   types   as  
well,   a   certain   kind   of   particle   use   is   characteristic   of   type   2.   In   Chapter   5,   I   focus  
more  on  the  shift  from  communication  to  narration  than  on  linguistic  details.  

                                                                                                                         
3
 I  thus  agree  with  numerous  other  scholars:  see  Section  2.3.  

  2  
 When   significant   (and   possible),   I   also   discuss   the   wider   context,   such   as  
possible  prose  sections  or  monologue  epigrams  on  the  same  monument.  Decoration,  
such  as  reliefs  and  statues,  forms  part  of  this  wider  context.  My  interest  here  is  on  
the   internal   relationship   of   these   parts   (epigrams,   prose   and   decoration):   does   the  
message   change   if   we   take   the   whole   monument   into   account?   In   some   cases,   all   of  
the  parts  are  tightly  combined  –  for  example,  the  epigram  can  comment  on  a  relief  –  
whereas  in  some  others,  they  do  not  have  any  internal  references.  

The   epigraphical   roots   of   the   epigram   genre   is   a   subject   that   has   been  
discussed  in  recent  studies,4  so  I  will  concentrate  only  on  the  aspects  that  dialogue  
material  has  to  offer.  My  focus  is  on  the  inscribed  material,  but  the  non-­‐inscriptional  
epigrams  cannot  be  excluded  if  we  want  to  understand  their  development.  I  discuss  
examples   that   have   connections   with,   contain   references   to,   or   are   implicitly  
influenced  by  the  structures  and  features  familiar  from  the  verse  inscriptions.   In  the  
general  conclusion  (Chapter  6),  I  sum  up  this  development.  

1.2 Epigrams:  verse  inscriptions  and  non-­‐inscribed  epigrams  

European   epigram   tradition   is   influenced   by   the   Latin   and   later   epigram   genre.  
Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge’s  (1772–1834)  epigram  depicts  one  side  of  it:    

What  is  an  Epigram?  A  dwarfish  whole;    

Its  body  brevity,  and  wit  its  soul.  
In   ancient   Greek   monuments,   however,   there   is   variation.   The   Greek   word   behind  
our   modern   short   poem,   the   epigram,   is   ἐπίγραμμα.   It   originally   meant   a   short  
inscription   on   an   object   (carved   on   stone   or   written   on,   e.g.,   wax,   parchment   or  
papyrus;   cf.   ἐπιγραφή).5  They   were   short   statements   or   informative   lines,   and,   if  
written  in  verse,  the  earliest  ones  were  dactylic  hexameters.6  The  earliest  preserved  

                                                                                                                         
4
 See  Section  1.4.  
5 3  
 cf.,  e.g.,  OCD ([1996]  2003),  s.v.  ‘epigram’;  Fantuzzi  and  Hunter  2002,  389  and  idem  2004,  283;  Fain  
2008,  9;  and  Baumbach,  Petrovic  and  Petrovic  2010,  6–8.  Also,  Puelma  1997,  189–213.  
6
 See  CEG  1.432,  740  BCE  (date  according  to  Coldstream:  given  by  Hansen  in  CEG),  the  Dipylon  
oenochoe;  CEG  1.454  (ca  750–700  BCE,  dated  by  Hansen),  the  Pithecusae  scyphos;  the  scyphos  of  

  3  
examples   are   on   vessels   that   were   used   for   example   during   symposia.7  During   the  
Archaic   period,   short   verse   inscriptions   on   stone   were   common,   mostly   on   grave  
markers   and   on   dedicatory   monuments.   The   witty   aspect   that   is   typical   of   later  
Greek  epigrams  (and  later  European  epigrams)  was  still  absent.  This  is  also  clear  in  
my   material,   for   the   earliest   preserved   dialogue   epigram8  is   a   rather   informative  
dactylic   fragment.   Indeed,   most   of   the   verse   inscriptions   are   informative   and  
occasionally  formulaic,  even  after  the  evolution  of  the  Hellenistic  (literary)  epigram.  
On  the  other  hand,  some  indications  of  the  influence  of  literary  epigrams  do  occur  in  
Hellenistic   and   Roman   period   verse   inscriptions.   However,   it   is   rather   irrelevant  
whether   the   inscribed   epigram   influenced   the   literary   epigram,   or   vice   versa;   they  
are  both  part  of  the  same  tradition  and  have  concurrent  developments  and  mutual  
influence.    

The   reason   for   producing   inscriptions   was   e.g.   to   reveal   the   following  
information:   the   owner   of   the   object   or   the   monument   in   question;   who   made   or  
dedicated   the   monument,   and   to   which   god;   or   who   was   in   the   grave.9  The   word  
epigramma   was   used   in   this   sense   by   Euripides   (Troad.   1191),   Herodotus   (5.59,  
7.228)  and  Thucydides  (6.54),  and  this  usage  prevailed  until  the  Hellenistic  period.10  
An  epigram  in  elegiac  distich  would  also  be  referred  to  by  the  word  ἐλεγεῖον  .11    

By   ca   500   BCE,   the   elegiac   couplet   had   become   the   generic   metre   of   verse  
inscriptions.  Reasons  for  its  dominance  have  been  sought  in  the  possibilities  offered  
by   the   metre   itself, 12  but   Fain   points   out   that   its   success   came   first   and   the  
sophisticated   way   of   using   its   possibilities   only   later.13  Then   again,   other   metres  
aside   from   the   elegiacs   were   still   used,   and,   as   regards   the   dialogue   material,   it   is  
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           
Hakesandros  (ca  720  BCE),  published  in  Besios,  Tziphopoulos  and  Kotsonas  2012;  Tataie’s  small  vase,  
675–650  BCE.  See  also  Wecowski  2014,  127-­‐134.  
7
 Vases  and  drinking  vessels,  however,  were  mostly  decorated  with  prose,  although  with  words  from  
songs  or  poetic  expressions,  thus  functioning  as  ‘aides-­‐mémoire  to  oral  sympotic  performances,  
which  would  often  be  in  verse,  whether  extemporised  compositions  or  recitals  or  adaptions  of  earlier  
lyric  or  elegiac  poetry’:  see  Fantuzzi  and  Hunter  2004,  284.  
8
 GVI  1831,  discussed  in  Section  2.2  (no.  1),  where  I  also  discuss  whether  or  not  we  can  use  this  
epigram  as  proof  for  early  dialogue  epigrams.  
9 3    
 To  name  a  few.  For  further,  see  OCD ([1996]  2003), s.v.  ‘epigram,  Greek’.      
10
 On  the  use  of  the  terms,  see,  e.g.,  Fantuzzi  and  Hunter  2004,  283  and  Bruss  2005,  4–9.  
11
 Gentili  1968,  39.  cf.  Gentili  also  for,  e.g.,  θρῆνος  and  further  terminology.  Also,  Petrovic  2007,  55.  
12
 cf.,  e.g.,  Reitzenstein  1893,  105;  Gentili  1968,  65;  and  Fain  2008,  76.  
13
 Fain  2008,  76.  

  4  
noteworthy  that  variation  in  metre  remains/reoccurs.  The  elegiac  distich  is  by  far  the  
most   common   metre   in   the   non-­‐inscriptional   dialogue   epigrams,   and   it   is   also  
common   in   the   verse   inscriptions,   although   other   metres   also   occur   in   the   verse  
inscriptions.  There  are  three  purely  iambic  dialogues,  three  with  hexameters  only,14  
and   a   further   three   in   which   hexameters   are   combined   with   iambic   or   trochaic  
verses,   or   both.   Hexameters   and   pentameters   can   also   be   combined   irregularly.   In  
some   examples,   the   metre   is   rather   vague.   Mistakes   occur,   probably   due   to  
problems  caused  by  changes  in  phonology  and,  sometimes,  possibly  due  to  the  fact  
that  the  writer  was  not  necessarily  a  native  Greek  speaker,  or  even  versed  in  poetry.  
This  applies  especially  to  the  epigrams  composed  in  Asia  Minor.  These  factors  may  
also   be   the   reason   for   the   irregular   combinations   of   hexameter   and   pentameter.  
Such   combinations   often   seem   random   and   make   one   wonder   whether   the   writer  
tried,  but  failed,  to  produce  elegiacs.  Examples  of  these  appear  in  this  study,  and  I  
discuss  the  metre  briefly  when  needed.  

The  literary  genre  of  epigram  began  to  flourish  during  the  Hellenistic  period.  
This  seems  to  be  tied  to  the  invention  of  poetry  books,  but,  as  Gutzwiller  points  out,  
there   were   probably   ‘intermediate   stages   between   elegiac   verses   contextually  
embedded  on  stone  and  the  books  of  epigrams…’.15  By  the  3rd  century  BCE,  the  term  
ἐπίγραμμα   had   been   extended   semantically.16  Dialogue   form   occurs   in   both   verse  
inscriptions  and  non-­‐inscribed  epigrams.  Although  I  suggest  that  the  medium  is  not  
very   relevant,   I   still   separate   the   verse   inscriptions   from   the   literary   epigrams.   In   a  
recent  study,  the  verse  inscriptions  were  studied  as  part  of  the  epigram  genre,  as  I  
do   in   this   study.   Hopefully   it   goes   without   saying   that   both   are   equally   important  
parts   of   the   tradition:   all   of   these   epigrams   belong   to   the   canon   of   literature,   and  
must   be   studied   together.   The   focus   of   this   study   is   in   the   verse   inscriptions,   as   I   am  

                                                                                                                         
14
 For  the  hexameter  in  verse  inscriptions  from  Late  Antiquity,  see  Agosti  2008,  198.  As  Agosti  rightly  
points  out,  in  late  texts  the  prose  and  verse  were  often  tied  together  and  not  kept  rigidly  separate,  as  
in  Archaic  and  Hellenistic  epigraphy  (Agosti  2008,  198–9).  
15
 Gutzwiller  2005,  287.  
16
 Bing  and  Bruss  2007,  12.  The  scope  of  this  study  is  on  the  communication  structures,  and  I  only  
briefly  summarise  some  main  points  of  the  history  of  epigram.  For  further  development  of  the  genre,  
see  e.g.  Bettenworth  2007,  69  (and  Puelma  1996  and  Fantuzzi  and  Hunter  2004,  283,  to  whom  she  
3    
refers),    Meyer  2005,  25ff.  and  OCD ([1996]  2003), s.v.  ‘epigram,  Greek’.  

  5  
especially   interested   in   the   communication   structures   in   the   monuments,   but   the  
influence  of  the  non-­‐inscribed  epigram  genre  can  not  be  excluded  or  ignored.    

‘Ancient  literature’  is  of  course   a   modern  concept:  in  ancient  Greek,  there  is  
no   general   term   for   literature. 17  Therefore,   the   concept   of   ‘ancient   literature’  
encompasses  a  wide  variety  of  text  types,  from  epic  to  inscribed  decrees,  speeches  
and   private   letters,   to   mention   but   a   few.   The   word   ‘literature’   in   its   broadest  
meaning  signifies  any  body  of  written  texts  (of  a  given  language,  period  or  culture),  
but   it   is   often   used   for   literary   art.   Not   all   the   inscriptions   are   most   accurately  
described  as  literary  art,  which  is  itself  a  difficult  term.  Today,  a  grocery  receipt  is  not  
art,  but  when  copied  in  the  pages  of  a  poetry  collection,  it  becomes  a  work  of  art.  
Something  similar  occurs  in  the  performance  of  the  epigrams,  since  the  performance  
gives   the   poems   a   different   aspect;   often   the   act   of   performing   an   epigram   makes   it  
part  of  the  ritual.18    

During  the  initial  stage,  the  inscriptions  were  ‘literature’  in  the  widest  sense  
of  the  (modern)  word.  Even  if  one  denotes  literary  art  by  the  term  ‘literature’,  the  
question   of   verse   inscriptions   is   not   completely   solved.   Day   accepts   epigrams   as  
poetry   with   the   clause   that   poetry   was   a   ‘traditional   form   of   both   effective   social  
performance  and  verbal  artistry’.19  Scholars  have  tried  to  define  literature  with,  for  
example,  the  concept  of  ‘imaginative’.  In  verse  inscriptions,  the  monument  can  have  
a   voice,   and   that   alone   is   ‘imaginative’.   The   passerby,   a   common   role   in   the  
monumental   verse   inscriptions,   is   always,   in   a   way,   an   imaginative   character,   an  
assumed  person.  The  mere  fact  that  the  texts  show  interplay  between  the  text  and  
its   recipient   (i.e.   awareness   of   reception)   shows   that   there   is   a   fictive   level   in   the  
epigrams.   The   role   of   the   verse   inscriptions   is   significant   in   the   development   of  
something  that  was  shaped  as  a  literary  genre.  In  order  to  understand  the  structure,  
the  satirical  humour  and  the  play  between  the  interlocutor  roles  of,  for  example,  the  

                                                                                                                         
17
 Terms  existed  for  certain  genres,  e.g.,  ποίησις  (poetry),  λόγος  (prose)  and  μουσική  (τέχνη,  as  art,  
skill),  but  there  was  no  such  concept  as  our  modern  ‘literature’.  In  Latin,  litteratura  initially  meant  
‘writing’,  the  ‘alphabets’,  ‘grammar’  and  ‘scholarship’;  the  meaning  of  ‘literature’  was  first  introduced  
in  the  Middle  Ages.  Latin-­‐based  terms  in  modern  languages  (literature,  Litteratur,  littérature)  still  
refer  to  groups  of  written  text.    
18
 For  the  ritual,  see  Section  2.3.3.  
19
 Day  2007,  29–30.  

  6  
funerary   epigrams   in   the   Anthologia   Graeca,   one   must   acquaint   oneself   with   the  
patterns  and  conventions  of  the  verse  inscriptions.  Even  when  the  development  of  
books  provided  a  means  of  easy  circulation  for  the  epigrams  and  a  breeding  ground  
for   a   literary   genre,   epigrams   were   still   cut   into   stone   at   the   same   time.   Even   the  
clumsiest  verse  inscriptions  were  some  kind  of  literature.20  What  began  (literally)  as  
scratches,  developed  into  a  genre.    

1.3 The  material  

1.3.1  Sources  

The   research   material   consists   of   dialogue   verse   inscriptions   that   I   collected   from  
CEG,   GVI,   SGO,   IG,   ICr,   SEG   and   other   epigraphical   sources.   I   also   collected   non-­‐
inscribed  dialogues,  mainly  from  the  Anthologia  Graeca,  and  I  discuss  some  of  them  
in   this   study,   but   non-­‐inscribed   epigrams   are   not   included   in   my   corpus   –   I   use   them  
to   illustrate   the   development   of   the   verse   inscription   dialogues   and   the   genre   in  
general.  It  is,  of  course,  not  easy  to  tell  the  difference  between  or  to  define  which  
came  first  when  we  have  both  a  verse  inscription  and  a  ‘book  epigram’  version  of  the  
same  epigram.  However,  in  the  tables  included  in  the  study,  the  epigrams  depicted  
are  verse  inscriptions  only,  if  not  otherwise  noted.    

There   are   108   verse   inscriptions   and   more   than   100   non-­‐inscribed   dialogue  
epigrams.  The  vast  majority  of  the  inscribed  dialogues  are  funerary  epigrams  (ca  85%  
of   the   total).   The   non-­‐funerary   epigrams   come   from   other   categories   such   as  
dedications  (1),  honorary   inscriptions  (7),   building  inscriptions   (4)   and   miscellaneous  
(3).21    

                                                                                                                         
20
 See  also  Kajava  2007,  753–4:  ‘Se  l’autore  di  un  brano  epigrafico  era  consapevole  dei  suoi  talenti  e  
inoltre  sperava  che  il  suo  scritto  fosse  letto  da  altri,  perché  non  considerare  un  tale  prodotto  esempio  
di  letteratura  antica?  –  se  poi  esso  risulti  buono,  mediocre  o  cattivo  come  letteratura,  questo  è  uno  
altro  discorso.’  
21
 Dedication:  SGO  1,  01/12/05.  Honorary  epigrams:  SGO  1,  02/09/24;  Corinth  8,  1,  89;  Olympia  V,  
225;  SGO  4,  20/06/01;  SGO  4,  21/23/06;  IG  X,  2,  1,  148(B);  SGO  1,  02/14/06;  SGO  3,  16/08/01.  
Building  epigrams:  SEG  55,  775;  SGO  4,  21/07/01;  SGO  1,  05/01/18;  SGO  1,  05/01/19.  [Miscellaneous]:  
SGO  1,  01/12/02  (describes  Halicarnassus);  SGO  4,  21/09/01  (erotic);  SGO  2,  11/07/05  (perhaps  
ecphrastic).  

  7  
 It  is  not  always  easy  to  tell  whether  a  given  inscription  is  a  dialogue  or  not,  
usually   due   to   the   fragmentary   state   of   the   monument.   In   addition   to   the   strictly  
dialogue-­‐formed  epigrams,  there  are  epigrams  in  which  the  ties  between  the  turns  
are  vague,  but  some  sort  of  connection  is  still  discernible.  I  present  several  epigrams  
in   which   one   of   the   speakers   addresses   the   other,   but   the   other   addresses   someone  
outside  the  poem.  In  these  cases,  however,  there  is  a  connection  between  the  two  
turns,  for  example  the  second  is  initiated  by  the  first  turn,  even  though  the  speaker  
directs  his/her  speech  to  someone  other  than  the  first  speaker.  In  cases  where  such  
connections  occur,  I  include  the  text  in  my  corpus.22  

1.3.2  Dates  

In   the   case   of   the   verse   inscriptions,   the   dates   are   rarely   precise,   as   most   of   the  
epigrams   come   from   private   monuments   that   give   no   exact   dates   (although   a   few  
exceptions  to  this  may  be  found).  Often,  the  letterforms  are  the  only  way  to  date  the  
inscriptions,   and   these   give   rough   dates   such   as   the   1st   century   BCE   or   the   2nd/3rd  
century  CE.  If  I  have  personally  seen  the  stone,  I  give  my  own  estimated  date,  most  
often  based  on  the  letterforms.  In  other  cases,  I  depend  on  the  previous  editors,  and  
provide  the  date  given  in  the  edition  I  use,  if  not  otherwise  noted.  If  there  are  any  
factors  that  help  to  establish  the  date,  I  use  and  mention  them.  

  Dialogue   epigram   started   to   flourish   when   the   epigram   in   general   was  

fashionable   in   the   Graeco-­‐Roman   world.   We   have   only   a   few   pre-­‐Hellenistic  
examples   and   fewer   than   10   Hellenistic   ones   –   all   of   the   other   dialogues   are   of   a  
later   date.   Thus   dialogue   form   was   most   common   in   the   post-­‐Hellenistic   period;  
dialogue   was   clearly   most   common   during   the   first   centuries   CE,   as   the   bolded  
numbers   in   the   table   show.   Later   on,   dialogues   were   still   written,   but   they   do   not  
occur  as  frequently  as  in  the  peak  period.  

  The  table  below  contains  the  dates  of  the  dialogue  verse  inscriptions.  This  is  a  
summary:  each  epigram  with  its  date  is  given  in  table  A1  in  the  Appendices.  
                                                                                                                         
22
 I  am  fully  aware  that  this  division  is  somewhat  arbitrary.  Diaphony  in  metric  inscriptions  is  a  
phenomenon  that  cannot  be  adequately  discussed  in  this  study,  but  it  deserves  further  study  and  
more  detailed  discussion.  

  8  
Table  1:  Dates  of  the  dialogue  verse  inscriptions  

early23                                                    1.  CE                              2.  CE                            3.  CE                            4.  CE                  5.  CE                      6.  CE    
       2./1.  BCE      1.  BCE/1.  CE          1./2.  CE            2./3.  CE                3./4.  CE              4./5.  CE          5./6.CE                          u/v24  
   6          5                              2                    10                    5                18            13              14              2                      3          2                  2            1                  3          9  +  13  
 

1.3.3  Proveniences  

Dialogue  verse  inscriptions  are  found  in  a  vast  area  from  the  Apennines  to  eastern  
parts  of  Asia  Minor.  If  we  look  at  the  geographical  distribution,  31  dialogue  epigrams  
come   from   continental   Greece   and   the   islands   combined.   Of   these,   20   epigrams  
come   from   continental   Greece.   Six   of   them   come   from   Athens,   which   is   probably  
due  to  the  fact  that  Athens  was  an  epigraphic  centre  in  general,  where  inscriptions  
were   produced   in   large   numbers.   Outside   of   Attica,   the   following   are   places   of  
provenience   in   continental   Greece:   Corinth,   Piraeus,   Argolis,   Tegea,   Olympia,  
Thessaly,  Boeotia  and  Thessalonica.    

Eleven  dialogue  epigrams  come  from  the  islands  Amorgos,  Astypalaia,  Corfu,  
Crete,   Cos,   Cyprus,   Parus   and   Rhodes.   There   are   no   such   concentrations   as   in  
Athens;   the   islands   produce   a   maximum   of   only   2–3   epigrams   each.   Furthermore,  
eight  dialogue  epigrams  come  from  Egypt  and  five  from  modern  Italy.  In  addition  to  
these,   one   epigram   comes   from   Pannonia   (modern   Austria),   one   from   Thrace  
(modern  Bulgaria)  and  one  from  Sveti  Naum  (modern  Republic  of  Macedonia).  The  
epigrams  from  all  the  aforementioned  areas  together  form  ca  43%  (47  out  of  108)  of  
dialogue  epigrams.    

Fifty-­‐seven   of   the   same   108   dialogues   come   from   different   areas   of   Asia  
Minor   and   this   weighs   the   focus   eastwards.   For   example,   ten   dialogue   epigrams  
come   from   Mysia   and   nine   from   Bithynia.   Furthermore,   ten   dialogues   come   from  
Syria   and   Palestine   (six   from   Palestine   and   four   from   Syria).   Other   areas   include  

                                                                                                                         
23 th th th th nd
 Early:    6 /5  century  BCE:  1;  5  century  BCE:  1;  4  century  BCE:  2,  2  century  BCE:  2.  
24
 u  =  unknown  date  (nine  epigrams);  v  =  vague  (thirteen  epigrams)  –  the  dates  given  in  editions  are  
‘Hellenistic’  (3),  ‘Roman’  (1),  ‘Imperial’  (8)  and  ‘late’  (1).  
 

  9  
Caria,  Chersonesus,  Cilicia,  Ionia,  Lycia,  Lydia,  Lycaonia,  Paphlagonia,  Phrygia,  Pisidia  
and  Pontus.  In  four  cases  the  provenience  is  unknown.  

Despite   the   fact   that   the   material   comes   from   a   vast   area,   certain   similarities  
are   evident   in   the   texts.   Possible   reasons   for   this   include:   copying,   using   old  
inscriptions   as   models,   using   literary   epigrams   as   models,   repeating   certain   formulas  
and  patterns,  and  perhaps  even  using  pattern  books.  Due  to  the  sporadic  nature  of  
the   material   (geographically   speaking),   local   influences   on   the   texts   are   difficult   to  
detect,  but  I  will  discuss  such  elements  when  possible.  

Table  2:  Proveniences  of  the  dialogue  verse  inscriptions25  

Continental   Islands   Italy   Egypt   Asia  Minor   Other   Unknown  
Greece  
20   11   5   8   57   3   4  
 

1.3.4  Composers  

Verse   inscriptions   are   mostly   anonymous.   Some   signatures   do   occur,   but   very  
seldomly..  Most  of  the  verse  inscriptions  were  composed  by  amateurs,  and  this  may  
partly   explain   the   anonymity.   According   to   Mitchell,   in   Asia   Minor   funerary   texts  
were  often  composed  by  the  peasant  families  themselves,  ‘relying  …  on  a  repetitive  
repertoire   of   poetic   expressions’.26  My   material   contains   cases   which   support   this  
view.27  This   could   also   partly   explain   the   metrical   problems   we   occasionally   come  
across  in  the  epigrams  from  Asia  Minor.  

Not   much   is   known   about   the   early   poets   who   composed   epigrams   (non-­‐
inscribed   or   verse   inscriptions)   besides   their   other   literary   output.   Simonides,  
however,   is   attested   to   have   written   some   epigrams,   but   the   authenticity   of   most   of  
those   ascribed   to   him   remains   uncertain.   It   is   most   probable   that   he   did   not  

                                                                                                                         
25
 For  a  more  detailed  table  of  proveniences,  see  the  Appendices  (table  A1).  Other  =  Carnuntum  
(Pannonia),  Sveti  Naum  and  Sandansk.  
26
 Mitchell  1993,  105.  
27
 Or,  at  least,  that  the  writers  were  perhaps  not  always  professionals.  

  10  
compose   all   of   them;   it   is   possible   that   he   wrote   only   one   of   the   ‘Simonidean’  
epigrams. 28  In   the   Anthologia   Graeca,   epigrams   are   attributed   to   other   famous  
persons,  such  as  Euripides  and  Socrates,  but  the  authenticity  of  such  poems/authors  
must,   similarly,   be   questioned.29  According   to   Bowie,   at   least   during   the   Archaic  
period   epigrams   were   composed   by   amateurs,   but   later,   towards   the   Hellenistic  
period,  some  level  of  professionalism  occurs,  and  during  the  Hellenistic  period,  poets  
wrote   epigrams   along   with   their   other   works. 30  Bowie   states   that   the   ‘true  
professionals’   composed   poems   for   competitions   at   festivals,   and   sometimes  
sepulchral   or   dedicatory   epigrams,   while   the   semi-­‐professionals   are   not   known   to  
have  participated  in  competitions;  their  aim  was,  simply,  to  produce  poetry.  Perhaps  
professionalism   is   not   very   relevant   when   discussing   the   ancient   inscribed   epigrams,  
but  I  wanted  to  point  out  that,  because  the  composers  may  be,  for  example,  family  
members   of   the   deceased,   they   do   not   necessarily   have   top-­‐quality   poetic   skills   or  
enough  experience  to  produce  flawless  verses.  
With   regard   to   non-­‐inscribed   epigrams,   the   situation   is   of   course   different:  
some  professional  poets  also  wrote  epigrams.  The  table  below  lists  the  composers  of  
the  dialogue  epigrams  alone,  as  they  are  found  in  the  Anthologia  Graeca.  I  give  the  
names   as   they   are   attested   in   the   Anthologia   Graeca,   even   though   it   is   likely   that  
some  epigrams  attributed  to  famous  writers  are  not  genuine.    
 

Table   3:   Non-­‐inscribed   dialogue   epigrams:   number   of   dialogue   epigrams   per  

composer  
dialogues   epigram  writer  
per  
7   Metrodorus  
6   Gregory  of  Nazianzus  
5   Callimachus  
4   Agathias  Scholasticus,  Antiphilus  of  Byzantium,  Julianus  Prefect  of  
Egypt,  Antipater  of  Sidon,  Meleager  
3   Leonidas  of  Tarentum,  Lucillius,  Philippus  of  Thessalonica,  Simonides  
2   Nicarchus,  Palladas  of  Alexandria,  Paulus  Silentiarius,  Philippus,  
Strato  

                                                                                                                         
28
 Page  1981,119–23  and  186–302.  
29
 Although  Aristotle’s  authorship  of  the  statue  epigram  for  Hermias  seems  authentic,  see  Page  1981,  
3
31–2.  cf.  OCD  ([1996]  2003)  s.v.  ‘epigram’.  
30
 At  least  there  are  no  signs  of  professionalism:  see  Bowie  1989,  199.  

  11  
dialogues   epigram  writer  
per  
1   Antipater  of  Thessalonica,  Anyte,  Automedon,  Claudius  Claudianus,  
Cometas  Chartularius,  Diogenes  Laertius,  Dioscorides,  Eratosthenes  
Scholasticus,  Erycius,  Gauradas,  Glaucus,  Leonidas  of  Alexandria,  
Macedonius  Consul,  Marcus  Argentarius,  Marianus  Scholasticus,  
Musicius,  Nilus  Scholasticus,  Nicias,  Phalaecus,  Philodemus  the  
Epicurean,  Posidippus,  Socrates,  St.  Sophronius  (Patriarch),  Synesius  
Scholasticus,  Theaetetus,  Theodoridas,  Troilus  Grammaticus,  Tullius  
Flaccus  /  Laureas,  Tullius  Geminus  
 
29   anonymous  (various)  

As  we  can  see,  the  authors  range  from  Hellenistic  poets  such  as  Callimachus  to  the  
Late   Antique   Archbishop   Gregory   of   Nazianzus,   who   wrote   several   dialogue  
epigrams.  Only  one  piece  is  attributed  to  many  of  the  poets  on  the  list,  but,  as  the  
list   shows,   many   authors   tried   the   dialogue   form.   Among   the   29   anonymous  
dialogue  epigrams  are  grave  epigrams  (real  or  pseudo-­‐epitaphs)  that  were  possibly  
written  by  amateur  writers.    

It  is  of  course  possible  that  at  least  some  of  the  poets  mentioned  above  also  
composed   epigrams   for   monuments. 31  According   to   W.   Hansen,   some   poets  
produced  both  epigraphic  and  ‘pseudoepigraphic’  epitaphs,  i.e.  not  only  inscriptions,  
but  also  non-­‐inscribed  epigrams  that  imitated  the  inscriptions.32  
 

1.4  Previous  studies  

The   epigraphical   and   verse   inscription   corpora   are   naturally   vital   for   my   study:  
Inscriptiones   Graecae,   Carmina   Epigraphica   Graeca   and   Steinepigramme   aus   dem  
Griechischen  Osten  are  among  the  most  important  of  these,  as  well  as  Peek’s  GVI.    

The   inscribed   predecessors   of   the   Hellenistic   and   later   non-­‐inscribed  

epigrams,   as   well   as   the   relationship   between   the   verse   inscriptions   and   non-­‐

                                                                                                                         
31
 Some  epigrams  occur  in  both  forms  –  e.g.  if  a  monument  text  is  copied  in  an  anthology.  
32
 In,  e.g.,  Anthologia  Graeca,  there  are  numerous  such  epigrams.  See  Hansen  1998.  

  12  
inscribed   epigrams,   have   been   the   objects   of   recent   study. 33  A   notable   recent  
publication   is   Brill’s   Companion   to   Hellenistic   Epigram   (2007),   which   offers   several  
articles   on   the   subject,   many   of   which   are   valuable   for   the   context   of   this   study.  
When   discussing   the   interlocutor   roles   and   the   possible   performance   of   the   text,  
Doris  Meyer’s  ‘The  Act  of  Reading  and  the  Act  of  Writing  in  Hellenistic  Epigram’  and  
Irmgard  Männlein-­‐Robert’s  ‘Epigrams  on  Art:  Voice   and  Voicelessness  in  Hellenistic  
Epigram’,  in  the  same  book,  give  background  for  my  study,  as  does  Michael  Tueller’s  
monograph   Look   Who's   Talking:   Innovations   in   Voice   and   Identity   in   Hellenistic  
Epigram   (2008).   Meyer’s   monograph   Inszeniertes   Lesevergnügen:   Das   inschriftliche  
Epigramm  und  seine  Rezeption  bei  Kallimachos  (2005)  is  an  excellent  study  of  verse  
inscriptions,  non-­‐inscribed  epigrams  and,  for  example,  speaker  roles.  Joseph  W.  Day  
also   discusses   the   inscriptions   and   their   performance   in   his   recent   Archaic   Greek  
Epigram   and   Dedication:   Representation   and   Reperformance   (2010).   Furthermore,  
several  articles  in  Archaic  and  Classical  Greek  Epigram  (2010,  eds.  M.  Baumbach,  A.  
Petrovic  and  I.  Petrovic)  give  important  background  information  for  my  study  and  for  
the  wider  context  of  epigrams  in  general.34    

The   earlier   studies,   however,   focus   mainly   on   the   early   stages   of   the  
epigrams  and  the  connections  between  the  Archaic  and  Classical  epigrams  and  the  
Hellenistic   epigram   genre.   My   study   gives   new   information   on   the   later   phase   of  
verse   inscriptions   and   the   mutual   influence   of   the   inscriptions   and   the   literary  
epigrams,   especially   during   the   Roman   period.   Furthermore,   I   trace   the   early  
development   of   the   dialogue   epigram   and   analyse   the   relationship   between   the  
verse   inscriptions   and   the   non-­‐inscribed   epigrams   and   the   different   levels   of  
influence.  These  points  will  also  contribute  to  the  current  discussion  on  reading  and  
performing   the   epigrams.   In   this   respect,   Joseph   W.   Day’s   remarks   on   the  
performance  of  the  early  epigrams,  for  example,  are  useful.35  

Many   of   the   texts   have   been   briefly   commented   upon   in   various   articles,   but  
there   is   no   systematic   study   of   the   Greek   verse   inscriptions   in   the   Roman   period.  
                                                                                                                         
33
 For  the  inscriptions  and  literature,  see  also  the  recent  Liddel  and  Low  2013.  
34
 e.g.  articles  by  Tueller,  Schmitz,  Vestrheim  and  Wachter.  
35
 e.g.  Day  1989  and  2010.  Day  concentrates  on  the  early  phases  of  the  epigram,  but  his  analyses  are  
valuable  to  me  for  detecting  the  later  reading  and/or  performing  situations.  

  13  
This   study   focuses   on   one   aspect   of   it,   namely   dialogue   verse   inscriptions,   but   the  
development   of   the   dialogue   also   reveals   some   general   outlines   of   the   verse  
inscriptions  and  the  development  of  the  speaker  roles.  

I   further   contribute   to   current   research   through   my   linguistic   approach.  

Research  on  a  dead  language  corpus  is  of  course  different  from  any  analysis  of  the  
modern   languages   that   we   can   record.   N.   E.   Collinge   has,   however,   discussed   the  
features  of  language  that  can  be  seen  from  the  pragmatics’  point  of  view.  He  states  
that  Ancient  Greek  ‘possesses  the  usual  range  of  speech  acts  in  all  registers’.36  The  
basic  studies  in  this  field  are  J.  L.  Austin’s  How  to  Do  Things  With  Words,  J.  R.  Searle’s  
work  on  the  speech  act,  and  the  Gricean  maxims.37  Naturally,  there  are  more  current  
discussions  in  the  field,  but,  in  order  to  appreciate  more  recent  scholarship,  a  brief  
introduction   to   the   work   of   these   authors   from   the   perspective   of   the   dialogue  
epigram  is  needed.    

According   to   M.   M.   Bakhtin,   the   utterances   of   discussions   form   interplays  

between  certain  rules  of  conduct,  behaviour  and  expectations.38  Likewise,  when  we  
analyse   written   dialogues,   which   were   most   probably   read   aloud,   we   have   certain  
expectations   of   how   the   conversation   will   proceed.   Analysis   of   spoken   dialogues  
begins   with   understanding   these   rules   and   expectations.   C.   Jenks   discusses   three  
aspects   of   dialogue:   organisation,   intersubjectivity   and   social   context.   Of   these,  
organisation   is   relevant   when   scrutinising   the   written   dialogues:   for   example,   the  
division   of   the   turns   and   how   the   turn-­‐taking   (or   -­‐giving)   functions.   The   other   two  
are   more   so   features   of   spoken   live   conversation   that   are   the   result   of   two   ‘real-­‐life’  
counterparts  which  are,  in  theory,  unpredictable  but,  in  reality,  comprise  the  socially  
and   historically   established   rules,   as   Bakhtin   pointed   out.39  I   would   add   that   the  
analysis   of   written   poetic   dialogues   similarly   begins   with   understanding   certain  
factors  of  the  poems  discussed  in  this  study.    

                                                                                                                         
36
 Collinge  1988,  7.    
37
 I  will  discuss  these  further  in  Section  2.1.2.  
38
 See  Bakhtin  1986,  87–91.  
39
 Jenks  2012,  1.    

  14  
 Dialogue   epigrams   are   full   of   speech   acts. 40  Austin’s   work,   especially   the  
posthumously   published   How   to   Do   Things   with   Words,   has   greatly   influenced   the  
use   of   the   term   ‘speech   act’.   Austin   introduced   locutionary,   illocutionary   and  
perlocutionary   acts.   The   locutionary   act   means   the   actual   utterance,   i.e.   the  
performance   of   the   utterance.   The   concept   of   the   illocutionary   act   is   more   complex,  
and   has   been   discussed   widely, 41  but   the   pragmatic   'illocutionary   force',   or   the  
semantic   force   of   the   utterance,   is   essential.   With   perlocutionary   acts,   the   speech  
act’s   psychological   consequences,   such   as   persuading   and   convincing,   are  
scrutinised.   The   effect   on   the   reader   or   listener   is   important.   Often   ‘speech   act’  
refers   to   the   same   thing   as   what   Austin   means   by   ‘illocutionary   act’,   i.e.   that   by  
saying   something   we   do   something;42  for   example,   greeting,   describing   something,  
asking  a  question,  making  a  request  or  giving  an  order  are  seen  as  typical  speech  acts  
or  illocutionary  acts.43  All  of  these  are  frequent  in  the  dialogue  epigrams:  questions  
are  central,  but  greetings  and  orders  also  common.    

  Searle  developed  the  following  classification  for  the  illocutionary  speech  acts:  
assertives,   directives,   commissives,   expressives   and   declarations. 44  Of   these,   the  
directives  are  of  especial  interest  in  the  dialogue  epigrams.  As  my  material  will  show,  
performativeness   and   the   illocutionary   acts   occur   in   the   epigrammatic  
conversations.   If   we   think   about,   for   example,   the   greetings   in   the   epigrams,   their  
function   is   most   likely   ritualistic:   by   uttering   the   greeting,   one   participates   in   (or  
performs)   the   ritual   act.   Likewise,   when   someone   reads   the   stone   which   exhorts   the  
reader   to   say   the   greetings,45  s/he   has   already   done   so   if   the   text   was   read   aloud.
  Even   though   conversation   analysis   (CA)   started   with   analysing   casual  
conversations   and   everyday   speech   situations   (and,   hence,   often   the   spoken  
language),  it  also  offers  tools  for  reading  the  inscribed  epigrams.46  I  study  how,  for  
example,  the  turn-­‐division  is  marked  in  the  inscribed  epigram  –  the  context  certainly  
                                                                                                                         
40
 And,  in  a  way,  inscriptions  themselves  are  speech  acts  in  the  public  sphere.    
41
 After  Austin  1962;  e.g.,  Searle  1969  and  1979;  Bach  and  Harnish  1979;  and  Schiffer  1972,  103.    
42
 Austin  1962,  109–18.  
43
 For  the  locutionary,  illocutionary  and  perlocutionary  acts,  see  also  Ohmann  1972,  50–1.  
44
 Searle  1975,  344–69.  
45
 See  the  examples  in  Chapter  3,  for  instance.  
46
 The  groundbreaking  work  in  the  field  belongs  to  Sacks,  Schegloff  and  Jefferson  (1974),  but  more  
recently,  e.g.,  Psathas  (1995)  and  Ten  Have  (1999)  have  contributed  to  the  topic.  However,  I  will  not  
rely  heavily  on  their  work,  but  rather  study  similar  issues.    

  15  
affected   it.   My   approach   introduces   linguistic   methods   into   the   field   of   epigraphy.  
This   study   shows   how   a   pragmatic   connection   was   built   into   the   verse   inscriptions  
and   how   the   elements   of   dialogue   were   noted   in   the   texts,   which   were   most  
probably  received  by  both  reading  and  hearing.    

An   analysis   of   the   structures   of   epigrams   also   leads   to   an   analysis   of   the  

speaker  roles,  for  which  publications  by,  for  example,  Meyer  and  Tueller  provide  a  
useful  framework.47  This  study  further  increases  our  knowledge  of  the  speaker  pairs,  
especially   in   the   post-­‐Hellenistic   period,   and   provides   an   analysis   of   the   way   these  
roles  function  and  communicate  in  epigrams  with  two  or  more  speakers.    

1.5  Methods  

I   use   editions   based   on   autopsy   of   the   monuments   whenever   possible.   When   I  

provide   my   own   reading,   I   indicate   this   in   the   footnote.   I   read   some   of   the   epigrams  
from  the  squeezes  in  Berlin  and  Princeton.48  When  neither  of  these  options  (autopsy  
of  the  stone/squeeze)  was  possible,  as  was  often  the  case,  especially  with  material  
from   Asia   Minor,49  I   compared   the   editions   and   chose   the   one   that   to   me   seemed  
the   most   acceptable   (this   edition   is   mentioned   first   in   the   footnote   listing   the  
editions,  date  and  provenience).  I  also  provide  English  translations  of  the  epigrams.  
The  translations  are  my  own,  if  not  noted  otherwise.50  

My   overall   approach   is   to   be   rather   cautious   with   restorations.   There   are  

certain  formulae  by  which  restorations  can  be  given,  but  some  verses  are  impossible  
to   restore   with   any   certainty.   Many   restorations   by,   for   example,   Peek   are   fine  
poetry,   but   when   I   studied   the   stone   and   measured   the   letter   sizes   and   spaces,   it  
                                                                                                                         
47
 cf.  Meyer  2005  and  2007  and  Tueller  2008  and  2010.  
48
 In  the  archives  of  IG,  Berlin-­‐Brandenburgische  Akademie  der  Wissenschaften,  and  in  the  Institute  
for  Advanced  Study’s  squeeze  collection  in  Princeton,  NJ.  I  am  grateful  to  the  staff  of  both,  and  
especially  for  the  kind  generosity  of  Professor  A.  Chaniotis,  who  allowed  me  to  visit  the  IAS  collection  
in  May  2013  at  short  notice.  
49
 And  also  some  of  the  Greek  epigrams,  as  I  did  not  have  an  opportunity  for  systematic  fieldwork  
during  this  study.  I  did,  however,  read  some  of  the  epigrams  earlier  (2003–2007)  as  part  of  a  verse-­‐
inscription  project  led  by  Erkki  Sironen  (Verse  Inscriptions  of  Roman  Greece;  ongoing,  corpus  to  be  
published).  I  was  able  to  read  some  of  the  epigrams  during  the  past  few  years  in  the  museums  of  
Greece  and,  e.g.,  in  the  Istanbul  Archaeological  Museum.    
50
 My  translations  serve  research  purposes  and  have  no  literary  ambitions.  

  16  
became  clear  that  sometimes  Peek’s  restorations  are,  for  example,  too  long  or  are  
otherwise  implausible.  I  often  give  the  edition  with  the  previous  restorations,  but  I  
would   like   to   underline   the   fact   that   the   restorations   are   just   suggestions,   as   any  
epigraphist   of   course   knows.51  It   is   also   worth   pointing   out   that   in   some   dialogues  
the  dialogic  elements  are  in  restored  parts  of  the  monument.  If  what  remains  has  no  
clear  elements  of  dialogue,  one  has  to  take  into  account  the  context.  In  such  cases,  I  
discuss   the   options.   However,   if   the   dialogue   elements   are   clear,   I   treat   fragmentary  
texts  as  equivalent  to  epigrams  that  have  been  preserved  intact.  I  have  also  kept  the  
layout   of   the   stone   instead   of   arraging   the   epigrams   according   to   verses,   as   the  
original  arrangement  is  often  useful  for  analysing  the  text.  Within  the  chapters  and  
sections,  the  texts  are  not  in  chronological,  but  rather  in  thematic,  order.  

The  early  epigram  tradition  in  general  aids  an  understanding  of  the  evolution  
of   the   phenomenon.   The   diaphonic   material   offers   additional   information   for   this  
understanding.  I  am  aware  of  the  fact  that  this  distinction  (dialogue/diaphonic)  may  
have  been  irrelevant  for  the  composers  of  the  epigrams.  Perhaps  they  just  wanted  to  
provide   certain   information   and   certain   ideas   via   two   (or   more)   speakers   in   the  
epigram,   and   whether   or   not   these   speakers   communicated   with   each   other   may  
have   been   insignificant   to   them.   Yet,   as   I   am   especially   interested   in   the  
communicative  structures  of  the  epigrams,  I  focus  on  the  dialogues,  in  which  at  least  
some  level  of  communication  between  the  speakers  can  be  detected.  

Epigraphic   methods,   such   as   editions   and   dating,   are   needed   for   the   basic  
analysis  of  the  material.  I  also  discuss  how  the  dialogue  epigrams  fit  into  the  general  
development  of  the  genre.  Therefore,  I  not  only  compare  verse  inscriptions  and  non-­‐
inscribed  epigrams,  but  also  consult  previous  epigram  studies.    

Linguistic  methods  are  essential.  The  smallest  unit  of  any  conversation,  either  
spoken   or   written,   is   an   adjacency   pair. 52  It   contains   one   turn   by   each   of   two  
speakers.   In   each   turn,   there   may   be   one   or   several   moves.   The   turns   are  
functionally   related;   the   first   utterance   provokes   the   responsive   second   utterance,  
and   hence   creates   a   conversation,   i.e.   communication.   In   conversations,   the   pairs  
                                                                                                                         
51
 In  cases  where  I  have  seen  the  stone,  I  accept  the  earlier  restorations  if  they  seem  plausible.  
52
 For  the  adjacency  pairs,  see  Sacks,  Schegloff  and  Jefferson  (1974).  

  17  
can   be,   for   example,   greeting–greeting,   offer–acceptance/rejection,   request–
acceptance/rejection,   question–answer,   complaint–excuse/remedy   or   greeting–
degreeting.53  Dialogue  epigrams  consist  of  one  or  more  adjacency  pairs.  Not  all  the  
pairs   found   in   spoken   conversation   can   be   detected   in   the   written   dialogues,   but  
some   of   them   may   be:   in   the   dialogue   epigrams,   the   question–answer   pair   (Q   –   A)   is  
by   far   the   most   common.   Three-­‐quarters   of   the   dialogues   contain   either   one   or  
several  question–answer  pairs,  so  we  can  say  that  this  pair  is  the  core  element  of  the  
dialogue   epigrams.   In   addition   to   these,   greeting   pairs   are   also   common,   as   are  
greeting   turns   which   do   not   receive   a   response.   Statement–response   pairs   also  
occur,  but  they  are  not  as  common  as  the  two  aforementioned  pairs.  

It   is   characteristic   of   adjacency   pairs   that   the   two   parts   are   uttered   by   a  

different  speaker  and  the  turns  are  not  only  related,  but  rather  contiguous,  i.e.  the  
two   parts   are   ordered:   for   example,   questions   must   be   asked   before   uttering   the  
answer.   This   means   that   the   turns   are   appropriately   matched.   In   the   dialogue  
epigram,   this   prevails:   the   pattern   of   ordered   units   is   rarely   broken.   Some  
interruptions,  however,  do  occur  at  the  level  of  the  maxims  of  speech.    

Pragmatics   offers   tools   for   my   typology   and   analysis.   The   aim   of   my   typology  
is  to  help  to  analyse  both  the  structure  and  the  content  of  the  dialogue  epigrams;  by  
scrutinising  each  type  separately,  I  aim  to  give  a  set  framework  for  this  analysis.  I  aim  
to  show  the  ways  of  organising  the  dialogues  and  the  ways  that  this  organisation  is  
denoted  in  the  texts.  This  also  aids  an  understanding  of  how  the  audience  received  
the  text:  if  by  hearing,  how  did  the  text  help  the  audience  to  understand  who  was  
talking,  when  does  the  speaker  change  and  how  does  the  conversation  progress,  and  
also  how  was  the  reader  able  to  follow  the  aforementioned  aspects  of  the  epigram?    

                                                                                                                         
53
 A  term  used  in  pragmatics;  the  participants  (of  the  conversation)  agree  to  discountinue  the  
conversation.  

  18  
2.    WHAT  DIALOGUE?  
 
2.1  Dialogue  in  epigrams  

2.1.1  Communication  and  terminology  

The  word  ‘dialogue’  derives  from  the  Greek  ὁ  διάλογος,  which  was  in  use  by  Plato’s  
time  at  the  latest  (see  below).  Its  roots  are  in  διαλέγομαι,  which  is  formed  from  the  
preposition   διά   and   the   verb   λέγειν.   Apart   from   conversation,   it   can   also   refer   to  
speech   or   series   of   speeches   and   debate   (cf.   διάλεξις). 54  Plato   used   the   verb  
διαλέγομαι  and  the  term  οἱ  διάλογοι  in  Protagoras  335d  (Callias  to  Socrates):55  

 
Οὐκ   ἀφήσομέν   σε,   ὦ   Σώκρατες·∙   ἐὰν   γὰρ   σὺ   ἐξέλθῃς,   οὐχ   ὁμοίως   ἡμῖν   ἔσονται   οἱ  
διάλογοι.  δέομαι  οὖν  σου  παραμεῖναι  ἡμῖν·∙  ὡς  ἐγὼ  οὐδ᾽  ἂν  ἑνὸς  ἥδιον  ἀκούσαιμι  ἣ  
σοῦ  τε  καὶ  Πρωταγόρου  διαλεγομένων.    

 
‘We   will   not   let   you   go,   Socrates;   for   if   you   leave   us   our   discussions   will   not   go   so  
well.  I  beg  you  therefore  to  stay  with  us,  for  there  is  nothing  I  would  rather  hear  than  
an  argument  between  you  and  Protagoras.’    

(Translation  by  Lamb)  

 
The   passage   captures   well   the   use   of   the   word   for   both   discussion   and   debate.  
Dialogus  in  Latin  means  a  (philosophical)  conversation  and  a  dialogue  –  again  we  can  
see   the   philosophical   tone. 56  It   was   used   by   authors   such   as   Cicero   and  

                                                                                                                         
54
 LSJ  1869,  s.  v.  ‘dialexis’.  
55
 ca  380  BCE.  
56
 Philosophical  dialogue  is  a  genre  in  itself,  but  reflections  of  it  can  occasionally  be  seen  in  the  
2
content  or  style  of  the  epigrams:  cf.,  e.g.,  IG  II/III  12067,  ca  365–340  BCE,  with  the  formula  φιλοῦντα  
ἀντιφιλοῦσα  τὸν  ἄνδρα  (no.  3  in  this  chapter),  which,  according  to  Clairmont  1970,  118,  was  
nd
influenced  by  Plato.  There  is  also  a  funerary  epigram  for  a  certain  Dialogos  (IG  II²  11140,  2  century  
CE,  from  Attica)  in  which  Dialogos  is  told  to  become  a  sophist  –  hence  his  name  refers  to  the  
philosophical  use  of  the  term.  The  name  occurs  only  in  this  epigram;  cf.  LGPN  II.  A  passage  from  the  
epigrams  shows  the  philosophical  aspect:  -­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐ἐνθάδε  Διαλόγοιο  σαόφρονος  ὀστέα  κεύθ[ει],  /γυμνὰ  ὃς  
ἀμφ᾽  ἀρετὴν  ἔπλετο  καὶ  σοφίην-­‐-­‐-­‐.  

  19  
Quintilianus.57  As   in   numerous   other   cases,   the   Greek   word   was   transmitted   into  
modern  languages  through  Latin.    

The  basic  meaning  of  the  word  ‘dialogue’  is  ‘a  conversation  between  two  or  
more  people’.  The  definition  ‘a  written  composition  in  which  two  or  more  characters  
are  represented  as  conversing’  applies  to  dialogue  epigrams.  58  

As   the   definitions   show,   dialogue   includes,   or   rather   is,   communication,  

whether  in  spoken  or  in  written  form.  Every  piece  of  poetry  communicates  with  its  
reader/listener,   so   there   is   a   dialogic   connection   between   the   poem   and   its  
recipient(s).   At   the   same   time,   the   writer   communicates   with   the   audience.   There  
are   thus   several   levels   of   communication:   between   the   author   and   the   recipient,  
between  the  text  and  the  recipient,  and  between  the  inner  characters  of  the  poem.  
My  study  focuses  on  the  communication  between  the  epigram’s  inner  actors.  Each  
interlocutor   has   one   or   more   turns,   and   in   the   dialogue   epigrams,   the   turns   of   the  
speakers   have   a   verbal   interchange   of   thoughts.   This   means   that   they   direct   their  
speech   to   each   other,   or   at   least   one   of   the   speakers   addresses   the   other   and   the  
second  turn  is  somehow  initiated  by  the  first  (I  will  provide  examples  of  both).  There  
are  thus  two  options  for  two-­‐person  dialogues,  the  first  and  main  one  of  which  is:  

    a  -­‐>  b  
b  -­‐>  a  
This  is  the  basic  dialogue:  a  speaks  to  b,  and  b  replies/responds  to  a.  According  to  
Aronsson,  dialogues  involve  not  only  the  turns  –  what  a  says  to  b,  and  what  b  says  to  
a   –   but   also   a’s   and   b’s   reflections.59  In   inscribed   dialogues,   these   reflections   are  
difficult  to  see,  but  the  responses  are  often  easy  to  predict  due  to  certain  patterns  
used  in  the  epigrams.  
The  second  two-­‐person  dialogue  option  is  either  
  a  -­‐>  b  
b  -­‐>  c    
                                                                                                                         
57
 Cic:  Or.  44  fin.  and  Brut.  60  fin.;  Quint.  5,  14,  27;  6,  3,  44  al.  cf.  Cic.  Att.  5,  5;  15,3;  Quint.  9,  2,  31  (in  
the  last  passage,  it  is  translated  as  ‘sermocinatio’,  as  mentioned  in  Lewis  and  Short).  
 For  both  of  these  definitions,  see  ‘dialogue’  in  Merriam-­‐Webster  Online.    Retrieved  March  30,  2015  
58

from  http://www.merriam-­‐webster.com/dictionary/dialogue.  
59
 Aronsson  1996  in  Handbook  of  Pragmatics  Online.  Retrieved  March  30,  2015.  

  20  
or   the   other   way   around,   whereby   one   of   the   speakers   directs   the   speech   to   the  
other   (a   and   b   can   both   do   this),   and   the   other   directs   the   speech   to   someone  
outside  the  poem.  In  the  diaphonic  epigrams,  the  situation  is  as  follows:  
    a  -­‐>  x  
  b  -­‐>  x/y  
In  such  epigrams,  there  are  two  speakers,  but  no  dialogue  communication,  and  both  
speak  to  someone  outside  the  poem  (not  necessarily  to  the  same  character).  As  I  am  
interested   in   the   direct   inner   communication   of   the   epigram,   I   have   included   only  
the   material   which   has   some   level   of   the   mentioned   communication   and   have  
excluded  the  clearly  diaphonic  (but  non-­‐dialogical)  material  from  my  study.60  To  put  
it  simply:  dialogue  epigrams  are  poems  with  two  (or  more)  speakers  who  interact.  

2.1.2  The  cooperative  principle  

As   indicated   above,   the   dialogue   epigrams   play   with   certain   expectations.   Grice  
pointed   out   that   when   we   say   something,   we   expect   to   get   a   certain   kind   of  
response,   i.e.   a   clear   and   understandable   answer   to   our   question. 61  Grice’s  
cooperative  principle  is:  ‘Make  your  contribution  such  as  it  is  required,  at  the  stage  
at   which   it   occurs,   by   the   accepted   purpose   or   direction   of   the   talk   exchange   in  
which   you   are   engaged’.62  The   four   basic   maxims   that   Grice   formulated   are   the  
maxims  of  quality,  quantity,  relation  and  manner.63    

Grice’s  critics  state  that  his  theory  contains  too  much  of  both  wishful  thinking  
and   rationality,   as   the   participants   of   communication   do   not   necessarily   have   a  

                                                                                                                         
60
 I  will,  however,  discuss  some  examples  that  are  not  dialogue  epigrams  in  the  strictest  definition  but  
have  elements  that  can  illustrate  the  development  of  the  dialogues.  
61
 Note,  however,  Bach  2005,  6:  ‘They  are  not  sociological  generalizations  about  speech,  nor  they  are  
moral  prescriptions  or  prescriptions  on  what  to  say  or  communicate.  Although  Grice  presented  them  
in  the  form  of  guidelines  for  how  to  communicate  successfully,  I  think  they  are  better  construed  as  
presumptions  about  utterances,  presumptions  that  we  as  listeners  rely  on  and  as  speakers  exploit’.  
62
 Grice  1975,  26.    
63
 Of  these,  the  maxim  of  quantity  is  perhaps  the  one  most  often  broken  in  the  dialogue  epigrams,  as  
more  information  may  be  given  by  speaker  b  than  is  required  by  speaker  a.  The  maxim  of  quantity  is  
twofold:  (1)  make  your  contribution  as  informative  as  is  required  (for  the  current  purposes  of  the  
exchange)  and  (2)  do  not  make  your  contribution  more  informative  than  is  required.  This  applies  
especially  to  some  of  my  t1  dialogues.  See  Grice  1975,  26–31  for  further  details  on  maxims.  

  21  
common   goal/ambition.64  This   is   often   true   in   real-­‐life   conversations,   but   when   it  
comes   to   verse   inscriptions,   the   Gricean   maxims   often   prevail.   This   seems   to   be  
more   typical   of   written   than   of   spoken   language.   In   his   book   on   voice   in   the  
Hellenistic   epigram,   Michael   Tueller   addresses   the   question:   what   can   the   poems,  
although  they  are  admittedly  written,  tell  us  about  spoken  word?  As  he  points  out,  
the   speaking   objects   definitely   provided   awareness   of   the   writing   and   its  
peculiarities.65  This  is  not  only  a  Hellenistic  phenomenon;  even  in  the  Archaic  period,  
the   epigrams   were   used   as   a   form   of   written   communication,   even   though   poetry  
was  generally  received  via  performance.66  Many  epigrams  implicate  an  awareness  of  
this   situation. 67  It   is   worth   noting   that   the   reception   situation   was   even   more  
complex,  in  a  way,  in  the  dialogue  epigrams,  as  they  contained  more  than  one  voice,  
but   the   turns   of   different   speaker   roles   (/voices)   were   read   by   the   same   reader.   The  
audience   had   to   know   the   speaker   roles   and   some   general   features   in   order   to   be  
able   to   follow   the   epigram,   so   it   is   very   likely   that   the   audience   had   certain  
expectations  of  the  epigrams.68  

 If   we   see   the   maxims   not   as   how   things   should   be,   but   as   depicting   what   we  
often   expect,   the   written   dialogues   are   often   similar   to   the   situation   that   Grice  
depicts  in  his  maxims  –  unpredictable  turns  seldom  occur  in  the  dialogue  epigrams.69  
The   questions   are   most   often   about,   for   example,   the   deceased,   his   or   her  
homeland,   parents   or   family   status,   and   the   dedicator   of   the   monument,   and   they  
are  asked  by  the  passerby  and  answered  by  either  the  monument  or  the  deceased.  
We  except  to  get  an  answer,  and  we  do;  the  questions  in  the  dialogue  epigrams  are  
seldom  left  unanswered.  If  they  are,  we  can  often  see  that  the  author  is  playing  with  
the   traditional   dialogue   conventions;   for   example,   the   dialogues   between   the  
relatives  and  the  deceased  offer  the  same  information  as  the  passerby–monument  
and  passerby–deceased  dialogues,  even  though  they  are  constructed  differently.  The  
information   is   often   given   in   the   turn   of   the   relative,   when   s/he   addresses   the  
                                                                                                                         
64
 See  Keenan  1976,  67–80.  
65
 cf.  Tueller  2008,  141.  This  is  also  noted  by  many  scholars  researching  the  connections  between  
Hellenistic  epigrams  and  the  verse  inscriptions.  cf.,  e.g.,  Walsh  1991,  83–5.  
66
 Schmitz  2010b,  25.  
67
 See  examples  in  Section  2.3.3.  
68
 For  speaker  pairs,  see  Section  2.2,  and  for  reading  and  reception,  Section  2.3.  
69
 Exceptions  of  course  do  occur,  as  my  examples  will  show.  

  22  
deceased,  and  the  name  of  the  deceased  is  thus  given  in  this  address.  The  relatives  
also  lament  the  deceased,  and  in  this  lamentation,  they  often  also  further  describe  
the   deceased.   In   such   cases,   the   expectations   of   the   audience   are   still   met.   There  
are,   however,   some   adjacency   pairs   in   which   the   maxims   are   not   functioning;  
perhaps  one  could  say  that  they  aim  towards  a  ‘real  conversation’.  At  the  same  time,  
they  are  more  ‘literary’,  for  they  are  expressed  in  a  way  that  is  not  solely  ‘functional’  
or  informative.    

To   sum   up,   dialogue   is   a   convention   of   the   epigrams,   and   one   with   which   the  
audience   was   familiar. 70  It   is   very   probable   that   the   audience   expected   the  
conversation   to   follow   certain   rules   and   logic.   As   my   examples   will   show,  
cooperation  is  expected,  but  the  epigrams  occasionally  play  with  these  expectations.    

2.1.3  Discourse  types  

As   regards   discourse   types   of   dialogue   epigrams,   I   rely   on   the   terminology   set   by  

Kroon   in   her   study   on   particle   use   in   Latin.   Kroon   creates   dialogic   and   dialogical  
discourse   terminology,   and   according   to   her   definition,   ‘a   dialogical   discourse  
segment   consists   of   alternating   moves   of   distinct   discourse   partners,   which   are  
related   by   their   corresponding   interactional   functions   and   together   constitute   an  
interactional  exchange’.71  Kroon  discusses  the  system  of  discourse  types  and  makes  
a   division   on   the   basis   of   two   parameters:   monologal/dialogal   and  
monological/dialogical.    

Kroon’s   theory   is   formed   on   the   basis   of   Roulet   et   al. 72 ,   but   it   stems  

ultimately  from  Bakhtin.  Put  in  a  very  simplified  manner,  the  discourse-­‐type  system  
enunciates   the   communicative   structures   that   are   built   with   interlocutors   and   turns:  
in  the  dialogal  type,  there  are  at  least  two  speakers  who  phrase  the  text  and  have  
structural   and   topical   control,   whereas   the   monological   discourse   type   is   phrased  
and   controlled   by   one   speaker   only.   The   other   pair   is   monological–dialogical.   The  
                                                                                                                         
70
 As  the  examples  later  in  this  chapter  will  show,  the  convention  was  probably  known  already  in  the  
Archaic  period.  
71
 Kroon  1995,  109.    
72
 Roulet  et  al.  1985:  L’articulation  du  discours  en  français  contemporain.  

  23  
dialogical   discourse   segment   contains   alternating   turns   and   interaction,   whereas   the  
monological  discourse  consists  of  one  turn  only.  Discourse  type  may  change  several  
times  within  one  text.    

These   two   parameters   produce   combinations   that   are   useful   for   explaining  
the   situation   of   certain   texts   with   two   or   more   speakers.   Most   of   the   epigrams  
discussed   in   this   study   are   the   dialogical   dialogal   discourse   type,   but   I   have   also  
included   some   examples   which   are   perhaps   better   understood   by   looking   at   Kroon’s  
dialogical  monologal  discourse  type.  According  to  Kroon,  ‘when  a  text  is  phrased  by  a  
central   reporter…,   but   simulates   or   reports   a   conversational   exchange,   we   may  
speak  of  a  dialogical  monologal  discourse’.73  The  text  may  show  diaphonic  elements  
and  even  describe  a  dialogue  via  the  voice  of  a  narrator,  i.e.  the  narrator  describes  a  
dialogue   or   an   imagined   dialogue;   for   example   ‘If   you   asked   who   this   is,   I   would  
say…’,   or   something   similar.   There   are   also   epigrams   which   contain   dialogue  
between   two   speakers   and   a   narrator   as   a   third   speaker.   We   find   these   variations   in  
some   Greek   epigrams   of   the   Roman   period,   and,   in   my   opinion,   this   phenomenon  
indicates   broader   development   of   the   epigram   genre,   from   informative   (early  
inscribed  tradition)  to  narrative  ones  in  the  post-­‐classical  period.74    

We   could   say   that   the   speech   acts   of   the   epigrams   are   fictional75,   but   the  
language   seems   to   be   something   in   between   spoken   and   written.   The   information  
mediated  by  the  dialogues  are  facts,  but  the  discussion  in  which  the  facts  are  given  is  
fictional.  This  is  also  a  feature  that  the  later  professional  poets  liked  to  emphasise,  
exploiting  the  old  formulae,  when  developing  the  genre  of  epigrams.  

2.2.  The  speakers  and  the  speaker  pairs    

A   certain   set   of   speakers   is   repeated   in   the   dialogue   verse   inscriptions.   In   this  

chapter,  the  roles  are  briefly  introduced  and  the  basic  functions  outlined,  while  the  

                                                                                                                         
73
 Kroon  1995,  110.  For  the  discourse  structure  of  the  funerary  epigrams,  see  Díaz  de  Cerio  1999,  
189–204.  
74
 For  examples  and  further  discussion,  see  Chapter  5.  
75
 See  also  Meyer  2005  for  this.  

  24  
examples   used   throughout   this   study   will   further   illustrate   the   essence   and   use   of  
each  speaker  role.    

The   speaker   roles   are   as   listed   below,   and   the   first   three   speaker   roles   of   the  
list  are  the  most  commonly  used:  

 
the  monument  (MON)  

the  passerby  (PB)  

the  deceased  (DEC)  (or  honorand  [HON])  

the  relative(s)  (REL)  

the  narrator  (N)  

These   speaker   roles,   when   combined   in   one   epigram,   produce   certain,   fixed   speaker  
pairs.  Some  variation  occurs,  but  the  basic  interlocutor  pairs  are:    

passerby–monument  (or  the  narrator)  (PB  –  MON/N)  

passerby–deceased/honorand  (PB  –  DEC/HON)  

relative–deceased  (REL  –  DEC)  

In   the   verse   inscriptions,   the   passerby–monument   pair   is   chronologically   the   first  

type,  but  the  other  roles  develop  relatively  early  as  well.76  Note  that  I  draw  a  parallel  
between   the   deceased   and   the   honorand   as   speaker   roles;   of   these   two,   the  
deceased   is   far   more   common,   and   the   honorand   role   (especially   in   the   Roman  
period)  seems  to  follow  the  pattern  set  by  the  earlier  grave  epigrams.  

In   types   1   and   2,   there   are   normally   two   speakers   in   each   epigram.   In   type   3,  
there   are   three:   often,   one   of   them   is   the   narrator   (a   speaker   role   that   does   not  
occur  in  dialogues  outside  type  3).  Most  often,  the  epigram  is  funerary,  but  it  may  
also  be,  for  example,  a  building  inscription.  The  passerby–monument  pair  occurs  in  

                                                                                                                         
76
 For  the  pre-­‐Hellenistic  speakers  and  the  developments,  see  Fantuzzi  and  Hunter  2004,  (their)  
Chapter  2.3.  For  early  Greek  epitaphs,  see  Sourvinou-­‐Inwood  1995.  

  25  
various  kind  of  epigrams,  whereas  the  passerby–deceased  pairs  and  the  deceased–
relative   pairs   naturally   appear   only   in   the   funerary   epigrams.77  The   narrator   role  
occurs  in  dialogues  only  as  a  third  speaker  in  addition  to  two  other  speaker  roles  that  
communicate  with  each  other.78  

  It   is   not   always   easy   to   tell   who   the   speaker   is   in   a   turn   of   an   epigram.79  

Sometimes  it  is  difficult  to  tell  whether  the  monument  or  the  deceased  is  speaking,  
and   the   narrator   and   monument   roles   are   also   occasionally   difficult   to   separate  
and/or   to   identify.   Even   the   relative’s   turn   and   the   monument’s   turn   may  
occasionally  be  very  similar  to  each  other,  but  often  there  is  some  kind  of  indicator  
that  helps  to  detect  the  speaker  during  the  course  of  reading  the  epigram.80    

 
2.2.1  The  monument    

The  idea  of  a  talking  monument  was  a  catalyst  for  the  development  of  the  dialogue  
form   in   the   epigrams.   Examples   of   the   monument   addressing   its   audience   are   found  
already   in   Archaic   inscriptions:81  the   address   made   visible   the   connection   between  
the   monument   (i.e.   the   poem)   and   the   reader.   The   grave   as   a   speaker   developed  
during   the   7th   and   6th   centuries   BCE.82  Sometimes   there   is   a   word   that   refers   to   a  
grave   instead   of   a   monument,   but   if   another   voice   responds   after   such   an   address,   I  
count  that  as  a  monument  voice  (the  physical  object  did  not  speak  anyway,  so  it  is  
the  idea  of  the  grave/monument  that  this  speaker  represents).    

In   the   early   monologue   epigrams,   the   monument   already   spoke   in   the   first  
person,  and  also  addressed  the  passerby  before  s/he  had  a  voice.  Schmitz  discusses  
this  development,  and  he  adduces  two  later  fictional  epigrams,  one  by  Callimachus  
and   another   by   Simonides   (both   are   dialogues),   and   justly   states   that   the   dialogic  
communication   would   have   been   familiar   to   the   audience   of   these   texts   from   the  

                                                                                                                         
77
 But  see  the  passerby–honorand  pair,  which  is  similar  to  the  passerby–deceased  pair.  
78
 With  the  exception  of  embedded  dialogue;  cf.  Section  5.2.  
79
 cf.  Schmitz  2010b,  32.  I  will  present  several  examples  of  this  in  Chapters  3–5.  
80
 e.g.  a  particle;  I  discuss  this  subject  further  in  the  following  chapters.  
81
 ‘Speaking  stones’  were  a  known  feature  by  the  Archaic  period;  cf.  Tueller  2008,  150.  
82
 cf.  Meyer  2005,  70.    For  the  early  speaking  object,  see  also  Christian  2015,  28-­‐46,  especially  32-­‐40  
for  earlier  discussion  on  Ich-­‐Rede.  For  the  development  of  the  speaker  roles,  see  also  del  Barrio  Vega  
1989,  191–2.  

  26  
Archaic   tradition.83  He   gives   several   ‘speaking   object’   examples,   for   instance   the  
Mantiklos   epigram,   a   dedicatory   text   from   the   7th   century   CE. 84  This   Archaic  
speaking-­‐object  tradition  seems  to  be  typical  of  dedications,  as  Wachter  argues.85  It  
is   interesting   that   we   have   only   one   dialogue   dedication.86  Dialogue   seems   to   be   a  
phenomenon   of   the   funerary   context,   and   some   honorary   texts   (similar   to   the  
funerary  epigrams)  and  building  inscriptions  occur  later.  Why  is  that?  Could  the  basic  
difference   be   that   the   dedications   speak   to   gods,   whereas   the   grave   monuments  
(and  other  types  of  monuments  mentioned  above)  attempt  to  talk  to  mortals  who  
walk   by? 87  According   to   Burzachechi,   it   is   the   Archaic   animism   that   breeds   the  
speaking   objects   that   are   common   in   verse   inscriptions.88  In   my   opinion,   however,  
the  situation  is  different.  Meyer  also  discards  the  idea  of  animism;  rather,  she  sees  
the   influence   of   the   speech   acts   here. 89  The   dedications   include   the   aspect   of  
communicating  to  the  people  who  see  the  object,  but  the  dedicatory  epigrams  are  
primarily  communications  with  gods.  In  the  funerary  epigrams,  the  communication  
aims   to   make   the   deceased   known   to   the   audience,   whereas   in   the   dedicatory  
epigrams,   the   god   cannot   be   the   ones   asking   questions,   and   an   extra   speaker  
evoking  speech  that  is  directed  to  a  god  is  not  a  very  functional  pattern.    

Another   factor   of   the   speaking   object   is   that   the   monuments   competed   for  
the   attention   of   the   audience.   The   Archaic   graves   lined   the   roadsides,   and   the  
dedications   in   the   temples   were   surrounded   by   many   others   as   well. 90  This   is  
probably  the  reason  why  the  grave  monuments  started  to  address  the  passersby.91  
Nevertheless,  in  the  early  dialogues,  the  monument  is  the  addressee  and  is  defined  
in  the  address.  The  monument  may  be,  for  example,  a  stele,  sarcophagus,  building,  
boundary   stone,   statue   base   or   dedicated   object.   It   may   also   be   a   sculpted   figure  
                                                                                                                         
83
 Schmitz  2010b,  28–29.  The  examples  are:  Call.  Epigr.  34;  Pfeiffer  =  22  Gow;  Page  1965  =  AP  6.351:    
τίν  με,  λεοντάγχ᾽  ὦνα  συοκτόνε,  φήγινον  ὄζον    
θῆκε  ‘τίς;’  Ἀρχῖνος.  ‘ποῖος;’  ὁ  Κρής.  ‘δέχομαι’.    
and  Simonides  APlan  23  =  no.  36  Page  1981  (example  no.  36  in  Chapter  3).  
84
 Schmitz  2010b,  29.  Also,  Day  2010,  33–48  has  recently  discussed  the  epigram.  
85
 Wachter  2010,  250–60,  especially  257ff.  
86
 SGO  1,  01/02/15  =  CEG  429  (no.  2  in  Chapter  2.2.2).  
87
 Tueller  has  speculated  the  same;  see  2010,  54  and  note  27.  
88
 cf.  Burzachechi  1962,  3–54.    
89
 Meyer  2005,  72.  
90
 Schmitz  2010b,  35  and  30.  
91
 For  the  speaker  roles,  see  also  Rasche  1910  and  Kassel  1983,  151–2.  

  27  
guarding  the  tomb,  for  example  a  sphinx  or  a  lion,  or,  finally,  it  may  be  the  symbol  of  
a   divine   creature   related   to   the   monument,   for   example   Eros   or   Hermes. 92  The  
monuments   had   value   as   memorials,   but   as   a   speaker   role,   the   monument   always  
has   an   informative   aspect:   its   role   is   to   tell   certain   facts   about   the   deceased/   the  
person   honoured/the   dedicator,   normally   in   the   third   person   singular.   The  
monument   can   refer   to   itself   in   the   first   person   singular,   but   this   is   not   necessary.  
Deictic   elements   are   common,   and   they   occur   in   the   monument’s   talk   from   the  
Archaic  period  onwards.93  
This   ‘voice   of   the   stone’   was   problematized   in   Hellenistic   non-­‐inscribed  
epigrams,   and   the   speaking   object   was   even   treated   as   a   paradox. 94  This  
problematization   also   appears   in   the   verse   inscriptions,   especially   in   the   Roman  
period.95  
 

2.2.2  The  passerby    

The   development   of   the   passerby   role   is   as   essential   as   the   talking   monument   in   the  
early  stages  of  the  dialogue  epigrams.  The  passerby  frequently  figured  in  the  Archaic  
epigrams   as   an   addressee,   but   it   is   important   for   the   dialogues   that   the   passerby  
began  to  talk.96  In  the  early  addresses,  the  passerby  is  asked  to  stop  and  lament  at  
the   grave.   When   the   monument   addressed   the   passerby,   the   turn   was   directed   to  
the  wider  audience  at  the  same  time;  passerby  is  a  role,  but  it  represents  both  the  
reader   and   the   audience.   The   passerby   could   also   be   the   only   speaker   in   a  
monologue   epigram,   for   example   in   polyandria,   where   the   passerby   greets   the  
deceased.97    

                                                                                                                         
92 2
 cf.  the  following:  for  a  stele:    IG  II/III  12794,  IG  XIV  1603,  GVI  1845;  a  sarcophagus:  GVI  1835  =  SGO  
3,  14/07/02;  a  lighthouse:  SGO  1,  05/01/18  =  AG  9.671;  a  wall:  SGO  4,  21/07/01;  a  sphinx  :  GVI  1831;    
a  lion:  GVI  1834,  SGO  4,  19/10/01,  cf.  Sironen  2015;  Eros:  SGO  2,  11/07/05  =  AG  16.201;  and  Hermes:  
IG  XIV  769  =  GVI  1883.  
93
 For  re-­‐enactment,  see  Bakker  1993a,  10–12;  cf.  Svenbro  1993,  26–43.
94
 Christian  2015,  76  and  83–5.  
95
 See  e.g.  no.  8  in  Chapter  5.  
96 th
 For  early  development  in  6  century  BCE  Attica  and,  later,  elsewhere,  see  Tueller  2010,  42–4.  Díaz  
th th
de  Cerio  1999,  200  also  dates  the  passerby  role  to  early  6 /5  century  BCE.  For  the  passerby  as  the  
addressee  (in  monologues),  see  also  Tueller  2008,  32.  
97
 Fantuzzi  and  Hunter  2004,  297,  giving  CEG  4  as  an  example.  

  28  
 The   passerby   role   gives   a   new   dimension   to   the   communication   between   the  
monument  and  the  recipient,  and,  more  importantly,  when  there  are  two  speakers  
in  the  epigram,  the  existence  of  a  passerby  creates  communication  within  the  poem.  
It   enhances   the   speech   of   the   monument,   in   a   way,   but   also   gives   the   composers  
new  possibilities  for  telling  the  facts  on  stone.98    

The  basic  situation  is  that  the  passerby  is  an  ignorant  enquirer.  Traditionally,  
s/he  is  also  someone  whom  the  deceased  does  not  know.99  As  the  material  shows,  in  
the   early   dialogues   the   passerby   initiates   the   conversation,   but   later   on,   the  
monument  may  begin  the  passerby–monument  dialogue,  and  the  deceased  can  also  
initiate  the  dialogue  with  the  passerby.  The  information  that  the  monument  wants  
to  mediate  is  offered  in  the  form  of  answers  to  the  passerby’s  questions.  Instead  of  a  
monument   stating   ‘here   lies   NN’,   the   passerby   first   asks   ‘Who   lies   here?’,   and   by  
answering   his/her   questions,   the   monument/deceased   gives   the   required  
information.  In  some  epigrams,  however,  the  passerby  possesses  some  knowledge,  
especially  in  the  greetings,  such  as  the  name  of  the  deceased.  The  passerby  may  also  
wish   the   deceased   or   his/her   family   well,   but   this   always   happens   after   the  
conversation   in   which   information   has   been   exchanged.   The   fact   that   there   was   a  
speaker  in  the  epigram  asking  a  question/s  may  also  have  given  the  recipients  more  
time   to   prepare   for   the   most   important   information,   such   as   the   identity   of   the  
deceased.  

Some  scholars  have  discussed  the  so-­‐called  anonymous  mourner,  a  speaker  

role   that   expresses   grief   in   the   first   person.100  The   pattern   of   the   deceased   who  
could   be   addressed   in   the   second   person   by   an   anonymous   speaker   was   common   in  
the  Classical  period,  but  this  is  uncommon  in  the  dialogues  in  which  the  speakers  are  
often  identified  and,  even  if  not,  are  usually  detectable.  However,  in  the  dialogues,  
the   passerby   is   such   a   default   character   that   it   is   probable   that   the   audience  

                                                                                                                         
98
 As  Meyer  formulates,  the  passerby  is  simultaneously  a  speaker  role  and  a  fictive  reader,  someone  
who  may  be  addressed  in  the  epigram.  But  this  is  not  the  same  as  the  actual  reader,  although  the  
writers  often  had  both  in  mind;  see  Meyer  2005,  12ff.  
99
 Meyer  2007,  193.  
100
 Walsh  1991,  83;  Page  1981,  295;  Gutzwiller  1998,  60;  and  Fantuzzi  and  Hunter  2004,  295.  cf.  
Meyer  2007,  77–83.  See  also  Vestrheim  2010,  67–71  on  the  ‘featureless  voice’.  

  29  
identified   even   the   possibly   unidentified   speakers   as   passersby   rather   than   as  
anonymous  mourners.101  
Ultimately,  if  a  speaker  addresses  the  passerby  or  the  monument  and  cannot  
be   identified   as   a   relative   or   someone/something   else,   I   identify   the   speaker   as  
passerby.   Very   often,   however,   the   speakers   can   be   identified   by   way   of   the  
addresses.   When   the   passerby   is   addressed,   vocatives   such   as   ὁδῖτα,   παροδῖτα,  
ὁδοιπόρε,  παροδοιπόρε,  ξένε  or  φίλε  are  used.102    
In   the   earliest   preserved   dialogue   example,   the   speakers   are   the   passerby  
and  a  sphinx  (i.e.  the  monument):  103  

 
1.     σφίξ,  hαΐδ̣αο  [κ]ύον,  τ̣ί̣ν᾽  ἔ[χοσ᾽]  ὄπιν̣  [ἂε  φυ]λάσεις  
hεμέν[ca.  3]ροφ̣[ίλο  κᾶ]δο[ς  ἀπ]οφ̣θιμ[ένο];      
ξε[-­‐-­‐-­‐    
 
Sphinx,   you   [d]og   of   Hades,   whom   are   you…[gua]rding   [always],   sittin[g]   [on   the  
gr]av[e  of  the  de]ceased-­‐-­‐-­‐?  —  Str[anger,-­‐-­‐-­‐104  

 
The  text  is  considerably  fragmentary,  but  it  seems  to  be  a  dialogue.  It  begins  with  an  
address  to  the  sphinx  (guardian  of  the  tomb):  σφίξ,  hαΐδ̣[α]ο  [κ]ύον.105  The  address  
at  the  beginning  of  the  line  is  certain,  so  we  can  state  that  someone  other  than  the  
monument   itself   is   speaking.   A   remarkably   fragmentary   question   follows,   starting  
with  an  interrogative:  τ̣ί̣ν’  ἐ[-­‐-­‐-­‐].106  It  is  damaged,  but  there  are  two  vertical  strokes  in  
the   Princeton   squeeze,   and   the   lower   part   of   the   nu   is   visible,   so   the   interrogative  
                                                                                                                         
101
 See  Tueller 2008, 40–1,  Tueller  2010,  45  and  Fantuzzi  and  Hunter  2004,  400–1  and  293–4.  Tueller  
points  out  that  discussion  on  CEG  470  =  16a  has  shed  some  light  on  the  terminology/identification  of  
the  speaker  role.  See  also  the  Ambracia  cenotaph  (SEG  41,  540a),  further  in  Day  2007,  30–1  (cf.  
discussion  cited  in  his  notes).
102
 For  the  development  of  ξένος,  see  Tueller  2008,  45  and  Tueller  2010,  51–4.  
103
 From  Thessaly,  Demetrias.  The  edition  is  my  own,  made  on  the  basis  of  the  Princeton  squeeze,  but  
very  similar  to  GVI  1831.  According  to  Friedländer,  it  probably  originated  in  Iolkos:  Friendländer  1987,  
th  
no.  139A.  The  dates  given  in  the  previous  edition  vary  from  6 BCE  to  ca  450  BCE  (the  latter  in  CEG  
th th
120);  on  the  basis  of  Princeton  squeeze,  6 /5  BCE  seems  most  probable.  
104
 The  translation  depends  on  the  restoration;  see  my  analysis  below  (in  this  chapter).  
105
 What  comes  next  depends  on  edition:  in  my  opinion,  Peeks’s  restoration  must  be  read  with  a  
cautious  mind,  but  in  order  to  study  the  epigram,  I  give  it  here.  Instead  of  [κ]ύον,  Arvanitopoulou  
reads  [ε]ὐόν̣υ̣μ̣ε,̣  but  it  seems  highly  unlikely.  In  any  case  the  word  seems  to  be  part  of  the  address.  
106
 ἔ[χουσα:  Friedländer;  ἔ[χοσ᾽:  Peek  in  GVI.    

  30  
τίν᾽  is  very  likely.  The  reading  of  the  rest  of  the  line  is  also  dubious,  but  φυ]λάσεις  
seems   probable,   as   does   ἀπ]οφ̣θιμ[ένο   (or,   as   in   Friedländer,   ἀπ]οφ̣θιμ[ένου),   so  
this  refers  to  the  guarding  of  the  tomb.  The  second  turn  begins  with  ξε[-­‐-­‐-­‐.  Here,  the  
speaker   is   the   sphinx   addressed   at   the   beginning   of   the   first   line.   Either   of   the  
addresses   ξέ[νε   or   -­‐-­‐ξεῖ[νε   or   a   name   that   begins   with   xi   and   epsilon,   for   example  
Ξε[ινοκράτεος  (which  would  answer  the  question  in  the  first  turn),  are  possible.107  In  
any  case,  xi  and  epsilon  are  clear.    
The  fact  that  the  sphinx  epigram  is  so  badly  damaged  makes  some  scholars  
doubt   its   value   as   proof   of   dialogue-­‐epigram   development.108  In   my   opinion,   the  
address   and   the   interrogative   (or   the   traces   of   it,   which   I   find   plausible   enough)  
suggest   that   the   sphinx   epigram   is   most   likely   a   dialogue,   and   the   letterforms  
suggest   a   pre-­‐Classical   date.   Also,   if   we   compare   the   epigram   with   others   in   this  
chapter,   it   is   highly   likely   that   it   contained   a   question–answer   pair,   beginning   with  
the  address  in  the  first  turn.  

Another   early   example   leaves   no   room   for   speculation.109  It   is   a   dedicatory  

epigram  from  Halicarnassus,  dated  to  the  5th  century  BCE,110  with  a  dialogue:  

 
2.     αὐ<δ>ὴ  τεχνήεσσα  λίθο,  λέγε  τίς  τόδ᾽  ἄ[̣ γαλμα]  
         στῆσεν  Ἀπόλλωνος  βωμὸν  ἐπαγλαΐ[σας].  

—  Παναμύης  υἱὸς  Κασβώλλιος,  εἴ  με  κ̣[ελεύεις]  

         ἐξειπεῖν,  δεκάτην  τήνδ᾽  ἀνέθηκε  θε[ῶι].    
 

Engineered  voice  of  the  stone,  say  who  set  up  

this  ad[ornment],  honour[ing]  the  altar  of  Apollo.    
—  Panamyes  the  son  of  Casbollis,  if  you  in[sist]  

                                                                                                                         
107
 Ξε[ινοκράτεος  suggested  by  Friedländer  1948.  
108
 e.g.,  del  Barrio  Vega  (1989,  194)  notes  that  the  fragmentariness  makes  it  questionable.    
109
 Tueller  discusses  the  early  examples  and  refers  to  del  Barrio  Vega  and  to  Rasche  1910,  6,  who  
assumed  that  dialogue  epigrams  first  occurred  in  the  Palatine  Anthology,  but,  as  Tueller  points  out,  
Rasche  published  before  the  following  example  (CEG  429)  was  found:  Tueller  2008,  42.  Taking  into  
account  the  fact  that  these  examples  date  to  no  later  than  the  Classical  period,  it  seems  obvious  to  
me  that  the  development  was  not  due  solely  to  the  literary  genre  (Page  1981,  245  discusses  a  
Simonidean  epigram  and  states  that  dialogue  form  is  perhaps  more  likely  in  non-­‐inscribed  epigrams).  
110 th
 CGE  429,  SGO  1,  01/12/05  (Halicarnassus,  5  century  BCE).    

  31  
that  I  speak  out,  dedicated  this  as  a  tithe  to  the  go[d].    

(Translation  by  Tueller)  

The   first   speaker   is   obviously   the   passerby.   First,   there   is   the   address,   i.e.   the  
passerby   addresses   the   monument:   αὐδὴ   τεχνήεσσα   λίθο   (Engineered   voice   of   the  
stone-­‐-­‐-­‐).111  Second,  we  find  deictic  elements  in  this  turn.  They  refer  to  the  particular  
monument:   τόδ᾽   ἄ̣[γαλμα].   Even   though   ἄ̣[γαλμα]   is   mainly   restored,   the   deictic  
pronoun  is  clear.  The  initial  verse  is  composed  as  if  the  speaker  were  standing  beside  
the  monument  –  as  the  reader  of  the  monument  was  –  and  asking:  ‘who  lies  here,  
under  this  monument  that  I  am  looking  at?’  This  is  a  common  feature  of  the  grave  
monuments.  

Here,  the  idea  of  an  object  with  a  voice  is  depicted  as  a  pattern,  something  
artificial. 112  The   epigram   creates   an   impression   that   the   talking   monument   was  
already  a  convention.  The  stone  represents  Panamyes,  who  dedicated  the  statue  to  
the   god   Apollo.   In   the   answer   turn,   εἴ   με   κ̣[ελεύεις]   ἐξειπεῖν,   if   you   in[sist]   that   I  
speak   out   is   embedded   in   the   line. 113  This   addition   to   the   otherwise   strictly  
informative   Παναμύης   υἱὸς   Κασβώλλιος   -­‐-­‐-­‐δεκάτην   τήνδ᾽   ἀνέθηκε   θε[ῶι]   underlines  
the  fact  that  the  speaker  has  changed;  the  passerby  is  no  longer  speaking,  but  rather  
the   voice   that   the   passerby   requested   to   speak.   This   insertion   also   gives   the  
audience   time   to   prepare   for   the   information.   I   include   the   reader   and/or   the  
listener  in  ‘audience’.  S/he  now  knows  to  expect  the  information  that  is  coming.  

These   two   examples   show   that   the   dialogue   form   has   its   roots   in   the   pre-­‐
Hellenistic   verse   inscription   tradition,   and,   in   my   opinion,   the   dialogue   is   a   rather  
obvious   continuation   of   the   talking-­‐object   tradition.   Despite   these   early   examples,   it  

                                                                                                                         
111
 As  Tueller  2010,  55  points  out,  the  question  in  this  kind  of  epigrams  corroborates  the  identification  
of  the  speaker  as  the  passerby  –  it  cannot  be  anyone  else.    
112
 The  word  τεχνήεσσα  may  also  be  translated  as  ‘skillfull’  or  ‘artful’;  Petrovic  2007,  64  points  out  
that:  ‘Here,    for  the  first  time,  the  voice  of  an  inscribed  epigram  is  characterized  as  full  of  techne,  i.e.  
artful’.  In  any  case,  the  phrase  αὐδὴ  -­‐-­‐-­‐λίθο  is  a  clear  indication  that  the  stone  is  talking  on  behalf  of  
someone  and  that  both  the  writer  and  recipient  were  aware  of  this  convention.  cf.  Tueller  2008,  150  
and  Christian  2015,  53–4.  
113
 μ᾽  ἐπ̣[οτρύνεις  ?]  CEG.  

  32  
is  important  to  keep  in  mind  that  most  of  the  dialogue  epigrams  have  a  much  later  
date.  

 
2.2.3  The  deceased  

The   voice   of   the   deceased   is   also   a   feature   that   was   already   known   in   the   Archaic  
period.114  It  could  be  an  addressee,  but  it  had  also  become  prominent  as  a  speaker  
by   the   4th   century.115  In   the   dialogues,   the   deceased   has   two   different   functions   –  
informative   or   consoling   –   depending   on   the   other   speaker.   When   the   deceased   is  
conversing  with  the  passerby,  s/he  adopts  an  informative  role  similar  to  that  of  the  
monument.     These   speaker   roles   can   often   be   identical.   The   passerby   asks   the   same  
questions  from  both:  the  basic  facts  about  the  deceased  and/or  his/her  death.  We  
know  that  the  speaker  is  the  deceased  because  s/he  is  addressed  in  the  turn  of  the  
passerby.   In   addition   to   the   reply   turns   (in   which   the   deceased   answers   the  
passerby’s  questions),  there  can  be  opening  greetings  and  farewells,  or  wishes  at  the  
end  of  the  epigram.    

In  the  relative–deceased  pairs,  however,  the  role  of  the  deceased  is  different.  
Usually   the   deceased   comments   on   the   lament   of   the   relative,   and   the   basic  
information  about  the  deceased  is  given  in  that  lament  (or  before  it,  in  an  eventual  
prose  section),  so  that  the  deceased  in  his/her  own  turn  then  consoles  the  relative  
and   often   comments   on   mortality,   for   example   by   reminding   the   mourner   that  
everyone   must   die.   These   turns   can,   however,   also   contain   some   information   that   is  
directed  to  the  audience.    

                                                                                                                         
114
 Concerning  the  roles  during  the  Archaic  period,  see  Degani  1997,  1108–14.  Note  also  that  
according  to  Christian  2015,  42,  the  deceased  did  speak  in  some  oriental  inscriptions  (Akkadian,  
th
Hittite)  from  the  8  century  BCE  on.  For  the  early  phase  of  the  speaker  role,  see  also  Christian  2015,  
162–176.  In  a  couple  of  cases,  Christian  suggests  a  switch  of  a  speaker  where  I  do  not  necessarily  see  
a  need  for  it,  but  he  also  discusses  several  ‘clear’  dialogues.  
115
 Tueller  2008,  32  and  figs.  3  and  4;  also  Tueller  2008,  112.  

  33  
2.2.4  The  relative  

The  family  members  begin  to  appear  in  the  epigrams  (also  monologues)  towards  the  
end  of  the  4th  century  (BCE).116  The  relative  is  a  close  family  member  who  has  a  voice  
in  the  epigram:  the  mother,  father,  spouse  or  child  of  the  deceased.  The  relative  may  
be   addressed,   and   s/he   most   often   addresses   the   deceased   in   the   second   person.  
Lament  is  essential,  but  in  the  lament,  the  relative  may  also  give  information  about  
the   deceased   (information   the   monument   or   the   deceased   would   tell   in   the  
epigrams  with  other  speaker  pairs).  Hence,  the  relative  partly  adopts  the  place  and  
function   of   the   passerby.   As   s/he   possesses   knowledge   of   the   deceased   (family  
members  know  the  name  of  the  deceased,  etc.),  they  do  not  ask  for  information,  but  
rather   concentrate   on   their   loss.   This   speaker   pair   provides   the   opportunity   to  
express   emotions   such   as   yearning,   consolation   and   reverence   on   a   deeper   and  
more   intimate   level   than   in   the   passerby–deceased   epigrams.   Many   of   the   epigrams  
that  contain  a  relative  role  are  type  2  or  type  3,  and  the  lament  can  be  rather  long  
and  produce  long  replies/comments.117  Yet,  even  with  the  lament,  the  turns  of  the  
relatives  are  not  always  only  emotional:  in  addition  to  the  facts  about  the  deceased  
(information   directed   to   the   audience),   they   can   also   contain   very   practical  
communication  with  the  deceased.  The  relative  may,  for  example,  report  that  s/he  
has   done   everything   that   the   deceased   ordered,   or   something   similar   that   s/he  
wants  the  deceased  (or  the  audience)  to  know.  The  relative–deceased  speaker  pair  
shows  development  towards  narrative  (from  functional,  informative  speaker  roles).  
This  tendency  seems  to  become  stronger  when  the  focus  on  personal  matters  was  
expanding  in  literature  in  general.    

2.2.5  The  narrator  

Some   epigrams   have   multiple   speakers.118  In   an   epigram   with   three   interlocutors  
(type   3),   it   might   happen   that   two   of   them   communicate   with   each   other   and   the  
third   comments   on   the   speech   of   one   of   them,   but   does   not   get   a   reply.   In   some  
                                                                                                                         
116
 Tueller  2008,  76.  
117
 For  examples,  see  Chapters  4  and  5.  
118
 cf.  nos.  1,  4,  5,  6  and  7  in  Chapter  5.    

  34  
cases,   however,   the   third   speaker   is   a   neutral   narrator.   Note   that   I   do   not   draw   a  
parallel  between  the  speaker  role  (narrator)  and  the  author,  but  simply  use  the  term  
to  mark  a  character  in  a  poem.119    

The  narrator  describes  a  situation  (i.e.  creates  a  narration)  and  introduces  the  
turns  of  the  dialogues.  The  narrator  may  also  denote  the  identity  of  the  speakers  and  
the   change   between   them.   The   narrator   and   the   monument   roles   can   be   close   to  
each  other,  and  thus  are  sometimes  difficult  to  define  (i.e.  it  is  difficult  to  determine  
whether   the   speaker   is   the   monument   or   the   narrator).   However,   the   narrator   is  
always   unidentified   in   the   text:   whereas   all   other   speaker   roles   can   be   addressed,  
the  narrator  never  is.  Neither  does  the  narrator  address  any  of  the  other  speakers,  
but  rather  reports  a  dialogue  from  the  outside.  Also,  the  narrator  speaks  in  the  third  
person,  never  in  the  first  or  second,  and  may  also  refer  to  the  dialogue  using  the  past  
tense.    

The   epigrams   with   a   narrator   and   other   speakers   are   more   common   in   the  
non-­‐inscribed  epigrams  than  in  the  verse  inscriptions  –  there  are  only  a  few  of  the  
latter   (discussed   in   Chapter   5).   The   communication   structures   in   these   are   partly  
different   from   the   (other)   dialogue   epigrams,   but   I   wanted   to   include   these   more  
narrative-­‐based   examples   in   my   corpus,   as   some   connections   to   the   other   types   and  
earlier,  more  strictly  communicating  speaker  pairs  can  be  detected.    

2.2.6  Problems  in  defining  the  speaker(s)  

The  speakers  are  often  clearly  marked,  but  if  not,  it  can  prove  difficult  to  identify  the  
speakers,  or  at  least  one  of  them.  The  following  epigram  is  an  example  of  this:120  

 
3.     χαῖρε  τάφος  Μελίτης·∙  χρηστ|ὴ  γυνὴ  ἐνθάδε  κεῖται·∙  

φιλοῦντα  |  ἀντιφιλοῦσα  τὸν  ἄνδρα  Ὀνήσιμ|ον  ἦσθα  κρατίστη  

                                                                                                                         
119
 For  narrator(s),  see  also  Morrison  2012,  esp.  27–35.    
120 2
 IG  II/III 12067  =  GVI  1387  =  GG  101  =  CEG  530,  ca  365–340  BCE,  Piraeus.  cf.  Díaz  de  Cerio  1999,  
199–200  and  Christian  2015,  173.  More  examples  will  occur  in  the  following  chapters.  See  also  Rasche  
1910,  12.    

  35  
 τοιγαροῦν  ποθεῖ  |  θανοῦσάν  σε,  ἦσθα  γὰρ  χρηστὴ  γυνή.  

—  καὶ  σὺ  χαῖρε  φίλτατ᾽  ἀνδρῶν,  ἀλλὰ  |  τοὺς  ἐμοὺς  φίλει.  

Greetings,  grave  of  Melite!  A  good  wife  lies  here.  You  were  the  best  of  all,  loving  in  
return   your   loving   husband   Onesimos.   And   therefore   he   misses   you   now   that   you  
have  died,  for  you  were  a  good  wife.  —  Farewell  you  too,  dearest  of  men.  But  keep  
on  loving  my  (children).121  

 
It  is  obvious  that  the  last  line  belongs  to  the  deceased  who  greets  the  relative,  but  
the  beginning  of  the  epigram  is  less  clear.  The  sentence  partly  looks  like  it  was  the  
monument’s   and   partly   like   the   husband’s   turn.   The   address   could   come   from   the  
husband,   but   after   that   the   deceased   is   referred   to   in   the   third   person:   χρηστὴ   γυνὴ  
ἐνθάδε  κεῖται.  Next,  the  deceased  is  addressed  in  the  second  person:  ἦσθα  κρατίστη  
and  ἦσθα  γὰρ  χρηστὴ  γυνή.  The  same  speaker  talks  about  the  husband  in  the  third  
person:   φιλοῦντα   ἀντιφιλοῦσα   τὸν   ἄνδρα   Ὀνήσιμον-­‐-­‐-­‐   τοιγαροῦν   ποθεῖ   θανοῦσάν  
σε.   If   the   speaker   is   the   husband,   third   person   would   not   normally   be   used.   The   line  
of  the  deceased,  however,  is  addressed  to  the  husband,  and  καὶ  σὺ,  χαῖρε  seems  to  
be  connected  with  the  previous  line.  According  to  Walsh,  since  the  deceased  at  the  
end   of   the   poem   addresses   her   husband   directly,   in   light   of   this,   the   beginning   likely  
belongs   to   the   husband.122  I   agree   with   Walsh   about   the   end   of   the   epigram;   the  
greeting  makes  us  think  that  it  is  the  husband  who  has  been  speaking  thus  far.  This,  
however,  does  not  solve  the  problems  we  face  in  trying  to  interpret  the  beginning  of  
the  epigram.  Vestrheim  is  opposed  to  reading  the  whole  first  turn  as  the  husband’s  
voice.123  Certainly   the   speaker   role   or   the   voice   in   the   first   turn   is   wavering.   The  
same   happens   with   the   direction   of   the   speech:   the   speech   is   first   directed   to   the  

                                                                                                                         
121
 Translation  is  similar  to  that  of  Vestrheim  2010,  72,  but  with  minor  alterations.  
122
 Walsh,  1991,  86–7.  He  sums  up:  ‘Through  a  series  of  transitions  almost  unnoticeable  because  of  
their  dependence  upon  conventional  tropes  (the  dead  person  is  her  grave,  the  stone  is  its  own  
dedicator,  the  dedicator  is  someone  who  visits  and  goes  away),  the  two  inanimate  entities  have  been  
transformed  and  animated  by  feeling’.  Meyer  also  reads  this  as  the  husband’s  voice:  see  Meyer  2005,  
2
86.  For  another  equally  puzzling  example,  see  IG  II/III  7711  (=  GVI  1386)  (example  no.  18  in  Chapter  
3),  Piraeus  (ca  390–365  BC).  Peek  excludes  both  of  these  from  his  dialogue  section  (in  GVI).  I  wanted  
to  discuss  them  here  as  they  show  quite  early  development  of  dialogue  and/or  diaphonic  verse  
inscriptions.  For  both  of  these,  see  also  del  Barrio  Vega  1989,  194–5.  
123
 Vestrheim  2010,  72.  

  36  
deceased,   then   to   the   passersby   and   then   to   the   deceased   again.   Could   it   even   be  
that  the  writer  wanted  to  create  a  dialogue  but  was  not  completely  familiar  with  the  
pattern   and   so   hesitated   in   choosing   which   person   to   use?124  Perhaps   this   is   too  
speculative   –   and   it   must   be   borne   in   mind   that  the   relatives   may   occasionally   speak  
about  themselves  in  the  third  person,  which  could  explain  the  first  turn.  
  Another  example  of  hazy  speaker  roles  comes  from  an  Orphic  tablet:125  
 

4. δίψαι  αὖος  ἐγὼ  καὶ  ἀπόλλυμαι·∙  ἀλλὰ  πιε̑  μοι  

κράνας  αἰειρόω  ἐπὶ  δεξιά,  τῇ  κυφάρισος.  
–  τίς  δ᾽  ἐσί;  πῶ  δ᾽  ἐσί;  –  Γᾶς  υἱός  ἠμι  καὶ  Ὠρανῶ  
                                     ἀστερόεντος.  
 
b.1     δίψαι  αὖος  ἐγὼ  καὶ  ἀπόλλυμα{μα}ι  {ἀπόλλυμαι}·∙  ἀλλὰ  πιε̑  μοι  
κράνας  αἰειρόω  ἐπὶ  δεξιά,  τῇ  κυφάρισος.  
–  τίς  δ᾽  ἐσί;  πῶ  δ᾽  ἐσί;  –  Γᾶς  υἱός  ἠμι  καὶ  Ὠρανῶ  
                                             ἀστερό<ε>ντος.  
 
c.1     δίψαι  {αὖος}  δ̣’  αὖ̣ο̣ς  ἐγὼ  καὶ  ἀπόλλυμαι·∙  ἀλλὰ  πιε̑μ  μου̣  
<κ>ράνας  <α>ἰενάω  ἐπὶ  δε[ξ]ιά,  τῇ  κυφάρισσος.  
     –  τίς  δ᾽  ἐσί;  πῶ  δ᾽  ἐσί;  –  Γᾶς  υἱός  ἠμ<ι>  καὶ  Ὠρανῶ  
        ἀστερόεντ[ο]ς.  

I  am  parched  with  thirst  and  dying;  but  grant  me  to  drink  from  the  ever-­‐flowing  
spring  from  the  right,  where  the  cypress  is.  –  ‘Who  are  you?’  –  ‘Where  are  you  from?’  
–  I  am  the  son  of  Earth  and  the  starry  sky.'  

The   function   of   these   inscriptions   is   not   to   preserve   memory   or   to   mediate  

information;  rather,  these  texts  have  a  ritualistic  purpose.  They  are  instructions  for  
the   deceased   for   the   afterlife.   Who   are   the   speakers   in   such   a   text?   Other   Orphic  
tablets  have  variations  of  this  wording  in  which  the  deceased  is  advised  to  utter  the  
                                                                                                                         
124
 Note  also  the  metre  here:  there  are  two  dactylic  (with  some  problems)  and  two  trochaic  verses,  
which  is  a  rather  rare  combination.  
125 nd
 IC  II,  xii,  31;  Eleutherna,  Crete,  2  century  BCE;  three  gold-­‐leaf  tablets  found  in  the  same  cemetery.  

  37  
formula  Γᾶς  υἱός  ἠμι  καὶ  Ὠρανῶ  ἀστερόεντος  when  entering  Hades.  The  texts  above  
are   not   dialogue   epigrams;   rather,   they   are   verse   inscriptions   which   include  
narrative:  in  this  case,  questions  and  a  formulaic  answer  embedded  in  the  text.  The  
questions   are   asked   by   unnamed   guards   when   the   deceased   begs   for   the   water   of  
Memory. 126  The   narrative   is   told   by   the   deceased   in   the   first   person,   and   no  
‘monumental  context’  is  visible.127  There  are  no  addresses  or  identifications,  and  no  
communication  of  two  speaker  roles,  as  such.  Owing  to  these  differences,  I  exclude  
the  Orphic  texts  from  my  corpus,  but  these  texts  show  that  dialogue  was  a  pattern  
used  not  only  in  epigrams,  but  in  other  genres  as  well.  
 
2.2.7  Speakers  in  non-­‐inscribed  epigrams  

In   the   non-­‐inscribed   epigrams,   the   restrictions   that   the   monumental   context   sets   do  
not  always  apply,  but  the  genre-­‐expectations  are  strong,  and  we  can  find  traces  of  
the   monumental   context   in   numerous   non-­‐inscribed   epigrams.128  In   many   cases,   the  
speakers  are  completely  free  from  this  ‘monumental  context’  or  its  resemblance:  the  
speakers  may  be,  for  instance,  Pan  and  the  nymphs  (AG  9.341),  Abraham  and  King  
Melchizedek   (AG   1.66),   a   customer   and   a   courtesan   (AG   5.46,   AG   5.101)   or   just  
unidentified   A   and   B.   In   six   epigrams   there   is   an   unidentified   speaker   that   resembles  
the  passerby  (or  the  speaker  role  can  be  equated  to  it)129,  and  a  personification  of  
some  kind,  for  example  an  echo  (AG  7.548).130      

Nevertheless,  the  speaker  pairs  of  the  verse  inscriptions  also  occur,  especially  
the   passerby–monument   pairs,   the   passerby–deceased   pairs   and   the   passerby–
dedicated  object  pairs.  The  monument  is  often  either  a  statue  guarding  the  tomb,  or  
in  the  case  of  dedicatory  epigrams,  the  dedicated  object.  The  object  also  speaks  in  

                                                                                                                         
126
 Radcliffe  2009,  73–5.  For  the  Orphic  texts  in  general,  see  Graf  and  Johnston  2007  and  Radcliffe  
2010.  
 Even  when  the  speakers  in  the  epigram  are  the  deceased  and  the  relative,  there  are  some  
127

elements  that  show  the  monumental  context,  whereas  here  the  epigram  functions  on  a  more  
abstract  level.  The  examples  in  the  following  chapters  will  hopefully  make  this  distinction  clear.  
128
 For  a  list  of  speaker  pairs  in  the  non-­‐inscribed  epigrams,  see  the  Appendices.  
129
 The  passerby  is  usually  not  addressed  in  the  non-­‐inscribed  epigrams,  and  we  could  often  label  the  
speaker  as  anonymous  speaker  X,  but  if  the  the  structure  or  function  resembles  the  verse  inscriptions,  
I  call  the  speaker  passerby.  
130
 In  addition  to  this,  AG  9.37:  a  fountain;  AG  9.164:  justice;  AG  9.192:  books;  AG  9.549:  waters  of  a  
fountain;  and  AG  14.6:  clocks  (all  conversing  with  a  person  very  similar  to  PB).  

  38  
the   echprastic   epigrams,   and   the   passerby   may   converse   with   the   deity   that   the  
monument  (often  a  statue)  represents,  i.e.,  with  the  god.131    

Like   in   many   of   their   inscribed   counterparts,   the   passerby   often   starts   the  
conversation  with  the  monument  in  non-­‐inscribed  epigrams.  The  trick  is  the  content:  
some  of  them  are  thoroughly  reminiscent  of  inscribed  epigrams  (as  regards  structure  
and  content),  and  others  only  formally  (structure),  while  the  epigram  discusses,  for  
example,  life  after  death  or  other  more  abstract  phenomena.  The  setting  is  similar  to  
the  verse  inscriptions,  but  the  content  differs.  The  following  epigram  is  by  Julianus  
(Prefect  of  Egypt),  AG  7.576:  

5.     κάτθανες,  ὦ  Πύρρων;  —  ἐπέχω.  —  πυμάτην  μετὰ  μοῖραν  

     φὴς  ἐπέχειν;  —  ἐπέχω.  —  σκέψιν  ἔπαυσε  τάφος.  
 

Did   you   die,   Pyrrho?   —   I   doubt   it.   —   Even   after   your   final   portion,   do   you   say   you  
doubt?  —  I  doubt.  —  The  tomb  put  an  end  to  doubt.  

Pyrrho 132  is   dead,   and   the   passerby   (supposedly   imagined   on   Pyrrho’s   grave)   is  
asking   questions,   but   the   roles   are   far   from   the   traditional,   inscribed   model:   the  
passerby   already   knows   Pyrrho’s   name,   and   while   he   asks   if   Pyrrho   is   dead,   he  
already   knows   the   answer.   Pyrrho’s   role   is   neither   to   give   information   nor   to   offer  
consolation.  The  point  of  the  epigram  is  Pyrrho’s  scepticism  rather:  he  doubts  even  
his  own  death.  

The   Hellenistic   non-­‐inscribed   epigrams   probably   increased   the   popularity   of  

the  dialogue  form  in  monumental  context  also.  So,  the  influence  seems  to  go  both  

                                                                                                                         
131
 e.g.  AG  12.143  (anonymous):  Ἑρμῆ,  τοξευθεὶς  ἐξέσπασε  πικρὸν  <ὀϊστὸν>[-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐]ἐφήβῳ.  –  Κἢγω  τὴν  
αὐτήν,  ξεῖνε,  λέλογχα  τύχην....  
O  Hermes,  when  shot  he  extracted  the  bitter  arrow...  –  And  I,  ο  stranger,  met  the  same  fate-­‐-­‐-­‐  (Paton).  
So,  here,  it  is  not  ‘Hermes  met  the  same  fate’,  but  ‘I  met  the  same  fate’,  etc.  Note  that,  before  ἐφήβῳ  
there  are  almost  two  verses  missing.  
132
 The  sceptic  philosopher.  In  a  way  also  the  passerby  is  a  sceptic  person  –  s/he  ask  a  question  not  
typical  for  a  PB,  and  despite  the  last  statement  turn  where  the  “tomb  puts  an  end  to  doubt”,  the  
passerby  first  asks  whether  Pyrrho  is  dead  or  not.  

  39  
ways   (even   simultaneously).   Skilled   poets   were   able   to   play   with   the   expectations   of  
the  readers  and  recipients,  and  some,  as  Bettenworth  puts  it,  ‘detached  their  poetry  
completely   from   any   resemblance   to   monumental   inscriptions’.133  At   the   same   time,  
parts   of   the   non-­‐inscribed   epigrams   still   looked   like   verse   inscriptions,   which   the  
dialogue   material   clearly   shows.   It   is   worth   remembering   that   sometimes   it   is  
difficult   to   say   whether   the   text   was   originally   inscribed   or   not:   there   are   epigram  
collections   with   both,   and   even   though   verse   inscription   collections   circulated  
already  in  antiquity,  there  were  also  epigrams  that  were  initially  written  as  literature  
and  then  later  cut  into  stone  (i.e.  not  the  other  way  around).134    
 

2.3  Readers  and  recipients  

2.3.1  The  audience  

A  question  that  comes  to  mind  when  considering  the  recipients  of  the  ancient  texts  
is  that  of  literacy  –  who  read  the  texts,  and  who  were  capable  of  reading  them?  This,  
however,   is   a   deceptive   starting   point.   The   level   of   literacy   is   only   one   part   of   the  
picture,   and   the   topic   has   been   discussed   recently.135  In   a   society   in   which   not   all  
could  read,  but  in  which  songs,  drama  and  recitals  flourished,  the  function  of  reading  
was   naturally   different   from   that   in   modern   societies.   As   regards   epigrams,   I   am  
interested  in  the  audience  of  the  text.  How  did  the  audience  receive  the  epigrams?  
Dialogue   epigrams,   for   their   part,   give   reason   to   assume   that   the   inscriptions  
were   read,   probably   aloud.136  Many   of   the   epigrams   –   also   dialogue   ones   –   are  
combinations   of   both   text   and   decoration   (relief,   statue,   etc.).   Often   the  
reading/viewing   situation   is   also   implied   in   the   text.137  The   texts   were   viewed   and  

                                                                                                                         
133
 Bettenworth  2007,  71.  
134
 Bing  names  these  ‘quasi-­‐inscriptional’  and  notes  that  context  shapes  our  reading:  see  Bing  2009,  
209–10  (originally  in  Bing  1998).  
135
 For  analyses,  see,  e.g.,  Johnson  and  Parker  2009  and  Thomas  1992.  Probably  not  even  all  the  
stonecutters  who  carved  inscriptions  on  stone  could  read.  Harris  1989  introduced  the  concepts  of  
scribal  literacy  (restricted  to  a  certain  social  group)  and  craftsman’s  literacy,  meaning  that  the  
majority  or  near  majority  of  the  craftsmen  were  literate.  Literacy  may  in  this  case  mean  the  ability  to  
read  simple  lines,  but  probably  not  longer  texts.  
136
 I  agree  with  Day  2010,  30,  who  points  out  that  the  dichotomy  between  read/unread  is  actually  
irrelevant,  and  that  we  do  not  need  to  claim  that  the  inscriptions  were  either  all  read  or  all  ignored;  as  
he  says,  both  surely  occurred.  For  reading  aloud,  see  Agosti  2008,  198  (the  issue  is  also  discussed  by  
Day  2010).  
137
 For  this,  see  Kauppinen  (forthcoming).  

  40  
read/heard  in  situ,  and  it  was  the  context  of  other  verse  inscriptions  and  monuments  
that,   for   their   part,   shaped   the   epigrams   from   early   on.   The   dedications   were  
intended   to   be   read   at   places   rich   with   other,   similar   texts,   and   the   same   goes   for  
the   funerary   epigrams;   for   example,   σῆμα   τόδε   on   funerary   stelae   refers   to   the   very  
stele   in   question,   which   would   have   been   surrounded   by   others.138  It   is   possible   that  
the  commissioner  of  the  text  was  not  able  to  read,  but  learned  the  verses  by  heart  
and   was   able   to   repeat   them   for   others   near   the   monument.139  This   might   also  
explain  the  inscriptions  that  are  difficult  to  read:  maybe  it  did  not  always  matter  that  
much  whether  the  stone  was  readable  or  not.    
Another  aspect  that  was  probably  important  concerning  the  inscription  is,  as  
Bing  terms  it,  ‘the  act  itself  of  imagining  the  monument’s  reception’.140  Monuments  
and   the   texts   on   them   were   part   of   the   ritual.   Making   the   monument   or   having   it  
made  was  also  a  ritualistic  act:  the  family  sets  up  the  private  grave  monument,  the  
dedicator  dedicates  it  and  the  society  honours  its  distinguished  members.  It  seems  
probable   that   the   acts   of   the   monument’s   dedicators   (and   receivers),   when   the  
object   was   set   up,   were   essential.   Bing   even   suggests   that   these   acts   were   more  
important   than   the   actual   reception.   On   the   other   hand,   it   is   known   that   the   text  
was  thought  to  have  power  of  its  own  –  ritualistic  power.141  Furthermore,  many  of  
the  epigrams  contain  references  to  reading,  hearing  and  receiving  the  poems.  

                                                                                                                         
 Baumbach,  Petrovic  and  Petrovic  2010,  12–14.  For  epigrams  and  their  context:  ‘Epigrams  were  
138

chiseled  on  objects  which  could  have  an  aesthetic  value  for  their  own,  and  they  were  supposed  to  be  
interpreted  against  their  background‘.  
139
 See  Day  2010,  43  for  a  similar  hypothesis  considering  the  Mantiklos  epigram:  ‘Even  if  the  artist  
alone  knew  how  to  write  the  inscription,  the  dedicator,  having  memorized  the  text  that  he  perhaps  
composed,  could  recite  it  from  memory  to  others  in  front  of  the  statuette.  Or  he  might  have  learned  
the  grammata  well  enough  to  point  proudly  to  the  ones  that  matched  the  sounds  being  uttered.’  
Earlier,  Bing  2002,  42–5  questioned  the  reading  of  the  monuments.  Bing  states  that  the  monuments  
were  often  inconveniently  located  and  texts  on  monument  were  sometimes  even  at  unreadable  
altitudes,  but,  like  Agosti,  Day  2010,  48–59  also  points  out  that  there  is  often  something  to  guide  the  
reading  on  the  monuments.  cf.  the  case  of  CEG  195  (Day  2010,  50).  According  to  Day:  ‘When  viewers  
positioned  themselves  to  obtain  the  best  view  of  the  statue’s  tilted  face  and  leftward  gaze  …  they  also  
gained  the  clearest  view  of  the  epigram’.  
140
 Bing  2002,  51–2  and  54.    
141
 This  point  of  view  is  common  in  magic;  see  Merrifield  1987,  137,  who  discusses  magic,  and  notes  
that  when  most  of  the  citizens  were  illiterate,  the  power  of  the  written  word  was  strong  and  thus  
writing  the  words  reasserted  their  magical  power.  Concerning  the  supposed  reader  and  (re-­‐)activating  
the  original  act  (of  ritual),  see  Depew  1997,  239  (and  245).  cf.  Day  1989,  26–8  and  his  later  work  (cf.  
2010).  

  41  
 All   these   aspects   were   certainly   important   –   the   reception   of   the   text,  
sending  its  message,  executing  the  text  and  the  plain  existence  of  the  inscription  –  
but   the   audience   also   plays   a   role,   and   the   audience   was   probably   larger   than   the  
readership.   Not   all   the   passersby   read   the   texts;   considering   literacy   alone,   this  
would   have   been   impossible.   Nevertheless,   those   who   did   read   them   often   did   so  
aloud,  and  hence  the  texts  were  received  also  by  hearing.    

2.3.2  Reading  and  reception  

There   are   both   direct   and   implicit   references   to   the   reception   situation   of   the  
epigram   in   many   of   the   epigrams.   In   the   following   examples,   the   focus   is   on   hearing  
and  listening  –  I  include  only  the  passages  which  contain  references  to  them:  

6.     λάρναξ  αὐδήεσσα,  τί  τ[ῷδ᾽]  ὑπὸ  σήματι  κεύθεις;-­‐-­‐-­‐  

Urn,  speaking  in  (human)  voice,  what  do  you  cover  under  this  tomb?-­‐-­‐-­‐  142  
   
7.     κλῦθι  καὶ  ἀνπαύσα[ς-­‐-­‐-­‐  
Hearken  and  sto[p-­‐-­‐-­‐  143  
 
 8.                      ἐνθάδε  τίς  κεῖται;  —  παροδοίπορε  μεῖνον,  ἄκουσον·∙-­‐-­‐-­‐  
Who  lies  here?  –  Passerby,  stay  (where  you  are)  and  listen:-­‐-­‐-­‐144  

In   number   6,   the   urn   is   described   as   speaking:   αὐδήεσσα   (cf.   the   αὐδὴ   τεχνήεσσα   in  
no.  2).  Here,  the  speaker  refers  to  the  monument  and  not  to  the  voice  itself:  it  says  
that   the   larnax   is   speaking.   It   is   obvious   that   the   audience   is   familiar   with   the  
concept   of   ‘speaking   object’.   In   numbers   7   and   8,   the   reference   to   listening   is  
essential.  If  the  reader  read  the  text  aloud,  s/he  would  also  ‘listen’  to  it,  as  anyone  
listening   or   overhearing   the   reading   would   naturally   also   do.   The   exhortation   to  
listen  also  occurs  in  the  following  passage:  
                                                                                                                         
142 nd
 GVI  1835,  Ikaonia  (Lycaonia),  2  century  CE.  This  is  the  first  verse,  but  there  is  another  in  the  
epigram.  Also  SGO  3,  14/07/02.  
143 rd
 GVI  1867,  Hermione,  3  century  CE.  This  is  the  beginning  of  the  first  verse.  
144
 GVI  1840  Berytus  (Syria),  late  Roman  period.  I  give  only  the  first  verse  here.  

  42  
  
9.   -­‐-­‐-­‐ἢν  ἐσακούσῃς,  λέξω.  —  φράζε  τάχιστα-­‐-­‐-­‐.      
-­‐-­‐-­‐If  you  listen,  I  will  tell.  —  Explain  quickly.  -­‐-­‐-­‐145  

The   examples   above   indicate   a   reading   situation   being   carried   out   near   the   stone,  
and  the  next  epigram  contains  a  direct  reference  to  reading  the  text  aloud:146  

10.     στῆθι  φίλον  παρὰ  τύμβον,  ὁδοιπόρε.  —  τίς  με  κελεύει;  

      —  φρουρὸς  ἐγώ  σε  λέων.  —  αὐτὸς  ὁ  λαΐνεος;  —  
αὐτός.  —  φωνήεις  πόθεν  ἔπλεο;  —  δαίμονος  αὐδῆι  
      ἀνδρὸς  ὑποχθονίου.  —  τίς  γὰρ  ὅδ᾽  ἐστὶν  ἀνὴρ  
               5      ἀθανάτοισι  θεοῖσι  τετιμένος,  ὥστε  δύνασθαι  
      καὶ  φωνὴν  τεύχειν  ὧδε  λίθωι  βροτέην;  -­‐-­‐-­‐  

Passerby,   stop   by   my   tomb.   –   Who   is   commanding   me?   –   I,   lion,   a   guard   (am  

commanding)  you.  –  The  one  of  stone?  –  That  one.  –  Whence  did  you  become  able  to  
speak?   –   By   the   voice   of   a   daimon,   of   a   subterranean   man.   –   Well,   who   is   such   a  
man,  honoured  by  the  immortal  gods  so  that  he  can  also  produce  a  mortal  voice  to  
the  stone  this  way?-­‐-­‐-­‐  

 
All   of   this   was   of   course   read   by   the   voice   of   the   reader,   which   gives   yet   another  
dimension  to  the  play  between  the  speakers.  In  reality,  the  fact  that  the  reader  gave  
voice   to   the   stone   was   naturally   commonplace,   and,   as   noted,   the   reader   of   the  
dialogue  epigram  lends  his/her  voice  to  more  than  one  character.      
Bing   points   out   that,   even   though   the   monuments   communicated   with   the  
reader   as   early   as   in   the   Archaic   period,   the   authors   rarely   cite   inscriptions   during  
the   5th   and   4th   centuries   BCE,   and   if   they   do,   it   is   not   by   autopsy.147  He   also   cites  
Cicero  (Tusc.  Disp.  5.23),  who  writes  about  a  particular  sepulchral  epigram  which  he  

                                                                                                                         
145
 SGO  4,  21/24/02,  Philadelphia,  Palestine,  139/140  CE  (in  SGO).  End  of  verse  3  and  the  beginning  of  
verse  4  only.  There  is  also  a  monologue  inscription  found  in  Italy  with  the  line:  -­‐-­‐-­‐who  has  read  me,  or  
has  heard  me  being  read...  cf.  Bing  2002,  41.    
146 st nd
 Bernand,  Inscr.  Métr.  68  =  GVI  1843,  Saqqara,  Egypt,  1 /2  century  CE.  Lines  1–6  only  here;  I  
discuss  the  whole  epigram  in  Chapter  4  (no.  14).  
147
 Bing  2002,  54.  

  43  
found,   and   about   which   the   locals   in   Syracuse   knew   nothing.   However,   the   grave  
Cicero   found   dates   to   the   3rd   century   BCE.   Why   should   the   Syracusans   of   Cicero’s  
time   pay   attention   to   a   grave   belonging   to   someone   who   died   long   ago,   especially   if  
he  was  not  an  exceptional  member  of  their  society?  This  does  not  necessarily  mean  
that  the  text  was  not  read  at  all.  
Another   reason   for   the   absence   of   the   inscriptions   in   the   ancient   authors’  
texts  is  probably  the  informative  nature  of  the  epigrams.  The  facts  that  the  epigrams  
tell   about   the   dead/grieving/honoured   person   were   not   necessarily   thought   to   be  
worthy   of   documentation.   Yet,   on   the   basis   of   the   literary   epigrams   from   the  
Hellenistic  period  onwards,  it  is  quite  obvious  that  the  poets  read  epigrams,  as  the  
structural  influence  of  the  inscribed  epigrams  on  the  literary  versions  and  vice  versa  
is   so   strong. 148  This   does   not   necessarily   mean   that   the   poets   were   wandering  
around   cemeteries,   roadsides   and   public   places   reading   the   texts,   with   heads  
inclined   and   surrounded   by   bushes,   as   the   verse   inscriptions   were   available   in  
collections   which   had   begun   to   circulate   at   the   time.149  The   epigrams   were   also  
transmitted   orally   and   being   quoted   long   before   the   Hellenistic   blooming   of   the  
genre.150  Considering,  however,  that  cities  were  full  of  monuments  with  inscriptions,  
the  poets  had  surely  seen  epigrams  in  situ  as  well.  It  is  true  that  literature  gives  us  
few  examples  of  reading  situations  of  inscriptions,  but  perhaps  we  do  not  need  such,  
for   the   primary   material   itself   gives   several   references   to   reading   and   the   physical  
letters  on  the  monument:151  
 

11.     στάλα  μὲ<ν>  οὐκ  ἄσαμος,  ἔμπνοος  δ᾽  ἔτι  

ῥώμα  φιλόπλου  φωτός·∙  ἴσχ᾽  ὁδοιπόρε.  —  
στ<άσ>αντες  ἴχνος  εἰσίδωμεν,  ὅντινα  
κέκευθε  τύμβος.  γράμμα  μανύει  τόδε·∙  
               5     Λέπτωνος  ἐσθλὸν  κοῦρον  Ἐπίγονον  χυτά  

                                                                                                                         
148
 Noted  and  stated  also  by  Bing  2002,  62.  On  the  other  hand,  see  Petrovic,  who  states  that  
inscriptions  were  ‘visible  in  written  sources’:  Petrovic  2007,  51–3.  
149
 For  the  collections,  see  Bing  2002,  62.    
150
 Petrovic  2007,  49.  
151
 The  use  of  verbs  such  as  μηνύω  and  ἀναγιγνώσκω  in  earlier  epigram  refers  to  the  same  
phenomenon.  Here,  I  present  only  the  references  to  the  reception  that  can  be  found  in  dialogue  
epigrams.  

  44  
 κούφα  πάτρας  ἀρωγὸν  ἀμφέχει  κόνις.  
 

Stele,  inarticulate,  yet  alive,  the  strength  worth  of  an  arm-­‐loving  man.  Hold,  traveller.  
–  Stopping  at  our  footprints,  let  us  see  whom  the  grave  covers.  The  inscription  reveals  
this:  (it  is)  of  Lepton.  The  mound  of  light  dust  covers  a  brave  young  man,  (who  was)  
an  Afterborn152,  a  helper  of  the  fatherland.153  

12.     -­‐-­‐-­‐τὰς  δὲ  γραφὰς  ἀνάγνωθι  καὶ  εἴσῃ,  πῶς  μετάκειμαι.-­‐-­‐-­‐  

-­‐-­‐-­‐Read  the  writings  and  you  will  learn,  how  I  lie  transposed.-­‐-­‐-­‐154  

13.     -­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐τίς  ἐντι;  —    

    μουσῶν  μανύει  γράμματα·∙  Μηνοφίλαν.-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐  

-­‐-­‐-­‐(and)  who  is  she,  the  verses  indicate:  Menophila.-­‐-­‐-­‐155  

In   the   first   example,   the   identity   of   the   speaker   in   the   opening   turn   is   uncertain,   but  
it   is   probably   the   monument,   following   an   old   tradition   of   speaking   stones.   At   any  
rate  the  imperative  ἴσχ᾽  and  the  address  ὁδοιπόρε  clearly  belong  to  the  voice  of  the  
monument.  In  the  second  turn,  the  passerby  reacts:  stopping  at  our  footprints,  let  us  
see....   There   is   a   subtle   reference   here   to   the   reception   situation,   as   ‘we’   is   likely   the  
reader   and   the   audience   combined   (or   the   passersby   collectively).   The   line   the  
inscription  reveals  this...  goes  well  with  an  assumption  of  recital:  when  someone  is  
reading  the  lines,  s/he  reveals  the  information  to  the  audience.  Reading  might  have  
taken   place   during   the   funerary   rituals.156  Numbers   12   and   13   both   refer   to   the  

                                                                                                                         
152
 Ἐπίγονοι  =  Afterborns:  sons  of  the  chiefs  who  fell  in  the  first  war  against  Thebes,  or  the  successors  
to  Alexander’s  dominion;  see  LSJ.  
153 nd
 IG  XII  3,  220  =  GVI  1832,  2  century  CE,  Astypalaia.  See  also  Inglese  2010,  377–390.  
154 nd rd
 GVI  1877  =  BÉ  1953  =  SGO  4,  20/02/01,  211,  2 /3  century  CE,  Marathus,  Syria.  Here,  the  final  
verse  of  the  epigram  only.  
155 nd st
 GVI  1881  =  GG  433,  2 /1  century  BCE,  Sardis,  Ionia.  Again,  only  a  short  passage  of  the  epigram  is  
given  here  (end  of  the  first  verse  and  the  second  verse).  I  will  discuss  this  epigram  in  detail  in  Chapter  
4  (no.  13).  
156  
cf.  Meyer  2007,  195:  ‘quasi-­‐public  recitation’.  

  45  
physical  text  and  to  the  fact  that  the  information  (that  the  passerby  wants  to  know)  
is  visible  on  the  stone.157  

Yet  another  reference  to  a  reading  situation  can  be  found  in  the  following:158      
 
14.     [Φι]λ̣οῦ̣ς  Φίλω-­‐  
                               νος  χαῖρε.  
τοῦτο  τὸ  σᾶμα  τίνος;    —  συ[νο]-­‐  
δοιπόρε,  πέτρον  ἀθρ̣[ήσας]  |  
               5      —  λέξον,  ἐπὶ  ταύταν  εἰ[ς  ὁδὸν]  
ἠλάσαμεν.  |  —  σᾶμα  Φιλοῦς,  γ[ενέ]-­‐  
τας  δὲ  Φίλων.  —  μάτηρ  δὲ  τί[ς,  εἰπέ]  |  
— εἰκ  ἄρα  τᾶι  γλυπτᾶι  τοῦτ[ο  πρό]-­‐  
σεστι  λίθωι.  -­‐-­‐-­‐  

Philo’s,  son  of  Philon,  greetings.  

Whose   monument   is   this?   –   Fellow   p[ass]erby,   lo[ok]   at   the   stone.   –   Say,   we   drove  
alo[ng]   this   [road].   –   Monument   of   Philo;   his   f[ath]er   (was)   Philon.   –   Wh[o]   is   the  
mother,  [tell]  (me).    –  It  is  [the]re,  certainly,  carved  on  the  stone.-­‐-­‐-­‐  

   

This   epigram   plays   with   the   idea   that   the   inscription   is   on   the   stone,   but   still   one  
needs   to   read   it   aloud,   as   the   passerby   here   insists.   If   we   think   about   the   Gricean  
maxims,159  this   epigram   either   breaks   the   expectations   or   fails   to   meet   them:   the  
monument  does  not  reply  as  expected,  but  refers  to  itself  instead,  i.e  to  the  physical  
text  that  was  carved  on  the  stone.  Later  on  in  this  epigram,  however,  the  monument  
answers  the  questions,  because  the  passerby  still  so  insists.  

It   is   possible   that   the   inscriptions   were   read   alone,   solely   for   the   benefit   of  
the   individual   reader,   from   the   Hellenistic   period   onwards.   On   the   other   hand,   the  
non-­‐inscribed   epigrams   were   also   performed   at   symposia   at   least   from   the  
                                                                                                                         
157
 See  also  Christian  2015  187–9    for  ’speaking  text’.  
158 nd
 GVI  1882  =  IC  IV  372  Gortyn,  Crete,  2  CE.  Here,  verses  1–4  only.  My  turn  division  differs  from  
those  in  e.g.  GVI  and  IC.  See  also  Martinez  Fernández  2006,  no.  8  (87ff.)  and  Christian  2015,  190–1.  
159
 cf.  the  cooperative  principle  discussed  in  Section  2.1.2.  

  46  
Hellenistic   period   onwards.160  Even   though   there   is   limited   research   on   performing  
the  texts,  it  seems  that  the  epigrams  by,  for  example,  Nonnus  (5th  century  CE)  were  
still   written   to   be   performed. 161  Whether   done   in   silence   or   aloud,   the   reading  
affected   the   reception   situation,   as   the   examples   above   show.   Schmitz   states:   ‘For  
my   argument,   it   is   of   little   importance   whether   the   reader   lend   her   or   his   physical  
voice   to   the   text   (s)he   reads   or   whether   this   vocalization   is   purely   interior’,  162  and  
the  same  applies  to  this  study.    
 
2.3.3  Reading  and  ritual  

Dialogue   epigrams   have   inner   speech   acts,   but   they   also   communicate   with   the  
recipients   outside   the   poem.   In   her   Rezeptionsästhetik,   Meyer   states   that   written  
speech   act   reaches   its   importance   through   reading   the   text   aloud.   According   to  
Meyer,  the  person  whom  the  epigram  addresses,  namely  the  reader,  may  be  a  fictive  
reader,   which   is   not   necessarily   the   same   as   the   actual   reader.   The   fictive   reader  
takes   part   in   the   fictive   speech   act,   which   contains   both   illocutionary   and  
perlocutionary  acts.163  However,  the  actual  reader,  the  one  near  the  stone,  took  part  
in  the  ritual  by  reading  the  text.  

This  goes  well  with  the  concept  of  the  power  of  words  which  is  known  from  
magic   rituals.   It   seems   that   words,   text   and   reading   have   power   in   other   rituals   also;  
for  example,  with  regard  to  the  grave  epigrams,  the  text  itself  and  its  performance,  
i.e.  someone  reading  the  text  aloud,  is  probably  part  of  the  funerary  ritual.    

In  the  following  epigram,  the  ritual  context  is  visible:164  

 
15.       Λεύκιε  Λικίνιε  
                                   χαῖρε.  
–  [κ]ὲ  σύ  [γ]ε,  [ὦ]  παροδεῖτα,  χάροι̣ς̣  ὅτ̣ι̣  
τοῦτο  τὸ  σεμνόν  |  εἶπας  ἐμοὶ  χα<ί>ριν  

                                                                                                                         
160
 e.g.  Nisbet  2003,  5–6.  
161
 Agosti  2008,  206.  
162
 Schmitz  2010a,  373  and  note  8  for  the  discussion  of  reading  aloud/silently.  
163
 Meyer  2007,  191.  See  Section  1.4  for  illocutionary  and  perlocutionary  acts.  
164 nd
 GVI  1855  =  SGO  2,  08/01/44,  2  century  CE,  Aphthonios  (Cyzicus),  Mysia.  cf.  Garulli  2014,  62.  

  47  
 [ἵ]νεκεν  εὐσεβίης.  
 
Lucius  Licinius,  greetings.  –  Greetings  to  you,  [to]o,  passerby,  for  saying  this  solemn  
greeting  to  me,  [o]ut  of  piety.  
 
 
This  short  epigram  reflects  the  situation:  someone  comes  to  the  tomb  and  utters  the  
greetings,   which   is   an   important   act,   as   the   epigram   shows.   In   the   epigram,   it   is  
referred  to  as  a  ‘solemn  greeting’,  and  this  could  refer  to  the  ritual  context  as  well.  
  Peek   includes   this   in   the   dialogue   section   in   GVI,   but,   to   be   exact,   it   is   not  
dialogic,  it  is  the  combination  of  title  and  verses  that  makes  the  dialogue.  I  do  not,  
however,  want  to  exclude  this  kind  of  epigrams  from  my  material  if  the  dialogue  is  
part  of  the  epigram  like  here,  where  the  title  and  the  epigram  form  a  unity  and  the  
dialogue  is  clearly  intentional.165      
 

2.3.4  Dialogues  in  context:  prose  parts,  decoration  and  possible  further  epigrams  in  
the  monument  

One  monument  could  have  several  text  units  and/or  other  visual  elements.  This  does  
not   necessarily   mean   that   there   were   visible   connections   between   them.   If   there  
was  a  statue  above  the  monument,  the  inscription  could  refer  to  it,  but  often  it  does  
not.   Furthermore,   two   text   units   can   give   the   same   information   in   different   forms,  
for   example   one   in   monologue   and   one   in   dialogue   form.   Sometimes,   however,  
there  are  clear  connections  such  as  direct  references  to  each  other  in  the  epigrams  
or   a   comment   on   the   relief   in   the   epigram.   These   connections   also   refer   to   a  
reception   situation   near   the   stone.   Examples   of   this   communication   between  
different   parts   of   the   monument   will   appear   in   the   following   chapters,   but   I   will  
briefly  introduce  some  features  here.  

On   a   more   general   level,   features   such   as   deictic   elements   show   that   the  
recipient   was   thought   to   stand   near   the   monument,   as   the   line   στ<άσ>αντες   ἴχνος  

                                                                                                                         
165
 The  inscription  refers  to  words  uttered  by  the  monument;  for  similar,  see:  -­‐-­‐-­‐ἀλλὰ  σὺ  ‘χρηστή,  
χαῖρ᾽,  Ἀμμωνία’  ὡς  ἔθος,  εἰπών.-­‐-­‐-­‐  in    Bernand,  Inscr.  Métr.  33  =  GVI  1873,  which  also  refers  to  this  
utterance,  this  saying  a  greeting  aloud,  ‘as  is  the  habit’.  

  48  
εἰσίδωμεν   in   number   11   also   shows.166  Some   of   the   inscriptions   comment   on   the  
size,  shape,  material  or  overall  beauty  of  the  stone167  –  all  of  these  are  things  that  a  
recipient  near  the  stone  could  also  see.  Some  texts  comment  on  the  monument  in  
detail,  and,  as  we  learned  in  Section  2.3.2,  there  are  also  several  references  to  the  
contents  and  the  physical  letters  of  the  monument  in  the  epigrams.    

  Many  of  the  monuments  have  a  prose  section  above  or  below  the  epigram.  
The  relationship  between  this  title  line  and  the  epigram  is  complex.  Sometimes  the  
epigram   shows   ‘awareness’   of   it:   in   number   15   above,   there   is   some   manner   of  
dialogue   between   the   title   and   the   verse.   Before   that,   in   number   14,   the   monument  
even  speaks  ironically  about  this  situation:  the  name  of  the  deceased  is  revealed  in  
the  title,  and,  later  on,  when  the  passerby  asks  this  name,  the  monument  says  it  is  
certainly  carved  on  stone.    

Occasionally  the  epigram  does  not  repeat  the  information  but  assumes  that  
the   reader   already   knows   the   details   after   s/he   has   read   the   title   line.   Most   often,  
however,   the   information   is   repeated   in   the   epigram,   which   in   dialogue   epigrams  
means   that   after,   for   example,   the   name   and   fatherland   of   the   deceased   is   told   in  
the   prose   section,   those   details   are   then   asked   for   (and   told   again)   in   verses.   For  
example,  in  the  following  epigram,  the  name  and  home  city  is  first  carved  in  the  title  
line,  but,  nevertheless,  the  epigram  begins  with  τίς  πόθεν:168  

     
16.                        Κλαύδιος  Χαρίτων  Περίνθιος.  
 
τίς  πόθεν  ὢν  ἐνταῦθα  ὑπὸ  χθονὶ  τῇδε  τέθαψαι;  —  οὔνομα  μὲν  Χαρίτων,  
πάτρη  δέ  μοί  ἐστι  Πέρινθος.-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐  
 

                                                                                                                         
166 st
 For  deictics,  see  also  a  passage  from  a  Parian  epigram,  1  century  CE  (IG  XII  5,  307  =  GVI  1860):  
Τίς  σε,  γύναι,  Παρίην  ὑπὸ  βώλακα  θήκατο;  Τίς  σοι  ξυνὸν  ὑπὲρ  τύμβου  σᾶμα  τόδ᾽  ἀγλάισεν;-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐    
‘Who  has  put  you,  woman,  under  the  Parian  ground?  Who  has  prepared  you  this  splendid  monument  
upon  grave?-­‐-­‐-­‐‘  
167
 I  will  discuss  these  elements  in  Chapters  3–5,  whenever  such  references  occur.  
168 2
 Based  on  autopsy,  but  my  reading  follows  the  previous  edition.  cf.  IG  II/III  10073  and  GVI  1864,  
nd rd
2 /3  century  CE,  Attica.  Here,  only  verses  1–2  are  given;  for  the  whole  epigram,  see  Chapter  4,  no.  
1.  

  49  
Claudius  Chariton,  from  Perinthus.  

Who   and   from   where   are   you,   (you   who   are)   buried   here   under   the   earth?   —   My  
name  is  Chariton,  my  fatherland  Perinthus.-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐  

 
In   the   first   turn,   the   use   of   the   second   person   singular,   ὑπὸ   χθονὶ   τῇδε   τέθαψαι,  
indicates  that  the  addressee  is  the  deceased,  and  the  speaker  here  the  passerby.  The  
deceased   replies   to   τίς   πόθεν   and   gives   the   exact   same   information   as   that   which  
was  given  above  the  epigram.    
Sometimes,   the   relationship   between   the   title   line   and   the   monument   is  
indicated  in  more  subtle  ways,  as  in  the  following  two  epigrams:  

17.       Αἰλίῳ  Νέπωτι  

       
           Ἀβάσκαντος  καὶ  Χάριτιν  
           τῷ  τέκνῳ  μνείας  χάριν.  
 
τίς  πατρίς  ἐστί  σοι;  —  ἥδε.  —  Νέπως  
ὄνομ’  ἐστί  σοι;  —  ἐστίν,  |  
πατρὸς  Ἀβασκάντου,  δωδεκέτης  
γενόμαν.|  
             5     —  τί  στέφος  ἐν  τύμβοις;  —  νικηφόρον,  
οὐκ  ἀδαὴς  γὰρ  |  
πανκρατίων  γενόμην  οὐδὲ  πά-­‐  
λης  ἱερᾶς·∙  |  
στεφθεὶς  δ’  ἐν  πάτρῃ  τόσσους  
           10     ἀνέθηκα  τοκεῦσι  |  
πρὶν  στεφάνους,  οὓς  νῦν  ἀντέ-­‐  
λαβον  τεθνεώς.  
 
For  Aelius  Nepos,  Abascantus  and  Charition  for  their  child,  for  the  sake  of  memory.  
 

  50  
What  is  your  fatherland?  —  This  (is).  —  Is  your  name  Nepos?  —  It  is;  (I  am)  the  son  of  
Abascantus,  (and)  I  got  to  be  12  years  old.  —  What  (is)  the  garland  in  the  grave?  —  
(It  is)  for  bringing  victory.  I  wasn't  unpracticed  in  pankration,  nor  in  sacred  wrestling.  
When  I  was  crowned,  I  dedicated  to  my  parents  in  my  fatherland  as  many  garlands  
as  I  have  now  received  when  I  died.  169  
 

18.    

[Δ]ιογένην  τὸν  Ἀπολ|λώνιον,  υἱὸν  τῶν  ἀξιο|λογωτάτων  Μάρκων  [Αὐ|ρ]ηλίων  

Ὀρθαγοριαν[οῦ]  |  Ἀπολλωνίου  καὶ  Σαρ[πη]|δονίδος  τῆς  καὶ  Διογε|νείας  προμοίρως  
τε[τε]|λευτηκότα  νεανίαν  ἀξι|ώματι  καὶ  λόγων  ἀ[ρ]ε[τῇ]  διαπρέψαντα  μνήμης  
ἕ|νεκεν  κ[αὶ  τ]ῆς  εἰς  τοὺς  |  [γ]ονεῖς  παραμυθία{ι}ς  βου|λῆς  καὶ  δήμου  κρίσει.  |  
hedera  
 
τίς,  πόθεν;  —  ἔνθεν  ἔφυν.  —    γενεὴ  δὲ  τίς;  —  εὐκλεὲς  αἷμα  
ἐκ  προγόνων  πεύσει.  —  τοὔνομα;  —    Διογένης.  —  
ἔργα;  —  λογοί.  —  τίς  ἔτεισε;  —  πάτρη.    —  τίνος  εἵνεκα;  —  πατρό[ς].  —        
πρὸς  τί;  —  φιλαιδῆμον.  —  θῆκε  τίς;  —  οἱ  τοκέες.  
 
The  prose  section:  

For   Diogenes,   who   also   bears   the   name   Apollonius,   the   son   of   the   highly   respected  
(parents),  Marcus  Aurelius  Orthagorianus  Apollonius  and  Sarpedonis  that  also  bears  
the   name   Diogeneia;   for   the   untimely   dead   young   man,   who   was   distinguished  
because  of  his  worthiness  and  the  excellence  of  his  speech,  (this  monument  has  been  
erected)  by  decision  of  the  People  and  the  Council,  for  the  sake  of  his  memory,  and  
for  his  parents’  comfort.  

The  epigram:  

Who  and  from  where  are  you?  –  I  am  from  here.  –  What  is  your  family?  –  You  will  
learn  that  I  am  of  famous  blood  hailing  from  my  ancestors.  –  Your  name?  –  Diogenes.  
–   Occupation?   –   Orator.   –   Who   has   paid   you   these   honors?   –   My   fatherland.   –  
Because   of   whom?   –   My   father.   –   For   what?   –   For   my   love   of   respectful   nature.   –  
Who  set  up?  –  My  parents.170  

                                                                                                                         
169 nd rd  
 IG  X  2,  1,  464  =  GVI  1865,  2 /3 century  CE,  Thessalonica.    
170 rd
 SGO  4,  17/06/05,  3  century  CE,  Oinoanda,  Lycia.  I  give  the  version  given  in  the  SGO,  which  is  
sufficient  for  the  theme  discussed  here.  However,  for  the  uncertain  letters,  see  Hall  1979,  163,  no.  2.  

  51  
  
In   number   17,   the   speakers   are   the   passerby   and   the   deceased. 171  The   first  
adjacency  pair  ties  the  epigram  to  its  physical  environment:  the  passerby  asks  for  the  
fatherland,  and  the  reply  is  ‘ἥδε’,  this  -­‐  i.e.  where  you  (the  reader)  stand  and  read  
this   epigram.   The   passerby   does   not   ask   for   the   name,   just   confirmation   for   the  
name  s/he  already  knows:  Νέπως  ὄνομ᾽  ἐστί  σοι;  The  name  was  revealed  in  the  title,  
but   the   passerby   still   wants   be   sure.   In   the   reply   turn,   the   deceased   confirms   the  
information  and  also  tells  the  name  of  his  father  (which  was  also  given  in  the  title).  
After  that,  he  tells  how  old  he  was  when  he  died.  The  question  τί  στέφος  ἐν  τύμβοις;  
is  a  direct  reference  to  the  monument.  
All   the   parts   are   connected   on   this   monument,   and   the   epigram   shows  
awareness   of   both   the   title   and   of   the   decoration.   The   connection   with   the   title   is  
perhaps  somewhat  loose,  but  at  least  the  epigram  shows  implicit  awareness  of  it.  On  
a  broader  scale,  the  epigram  is  also  linked  to  the  exact  locus  where  the  monument  
stands.  The  writer  has  taken  all  of  these  elements  into  account.172    
The   speakers   are   the   passerby   and   the   deceased   also   in   number   18.   The  
epigram  section  is  actually  quite  uninformative,  but  all  the  information  requested  in  
it  is  given  in  the  long  prose  ‘title’  above  the  epigram.  To  the  questions  τίς,  πόθεν;  the  
deceased   replies   with   only:   ἔνθεν   ἕφυν.   The   reader   again   of   course   knows   where  
that  is,  namely  where  s/he  is.  To  the  first  question,  τίς;  the  deceased  does  not  reply  
here  at  all.  Later  it  is  asked  again,  and  then  answered:  τοὔνομα;  –  Διογένης  (which  
was  revealed  first  and  in  more  detail  in  the  prose  section).  As  the  details  about  the  
parents   are   also   given   in   the   prose   section,   their   names   are   not   repeated   in   the  
epigram:     the   deceased   only   mentions   that   he   is   of   famous   blood   that   hails   from   his  
ancestors:  εὐκλεὲς  αἷμα  ἐκ  προγόνων  πεύσει.  When  asked  what  his  occupation  was,  
he  simply  replies  λογοί.  It  is  revealed  in  the  title  that  the  people  and  the  council  have  
honoured   him   for   his   worthiness   and   the   excellence   of   his   speech,   ἀξι|ώματι   καὶ  
λόγων   ἀ[ρ]ε[τῆ]. 173  At   the   end   of   the   epigram,   when   asked   who   erected   the  

                                                                                                                         
171
 Labelled  as  an  honorary  inscription  in  SEG  44,  1198,  it  belongs  to  a  group  of  inscriptions  
documenting  festivals  of  Oinoanda  (cf.  Hall  and  Milner  1994  [esp.  41,  no  .34]).  The  title  shows  that  
Diogenes  is  dead;  thus,  the  speaker  here  is  the  deceased.  
172
 It  is  possible  that  the  epigram  is  a  later  addition;  see  Hogarth  1887,  366.    
173
 As  Hall  1979,  163  points  out,  this  is  in  contrast  to  other  statue  bases  which  were  erected  mainly  for  
athletes  and  are  found  in  the  same  area.  

  52  
monument,  the  deceased  simply  replies  οἱ  τοκέες.  Their  names,  again,  are  given  in  
the  prose  section.  The  epigram  in  a  way  repeats  the  information  given  in  the  prose  
section,  not  word  for  word,  but  rather  on  a  general  level  and  in  a  manner  suitable  
for  an  orator.  There  are  no  direct  references  to  the  prose  section  in  the  epigram,  but  
the  two  inscriptions  work  together  implicitly.  
  Similarly,  there  are  cases  of  several  epigrams  on  a  single  stone  in  which  the  
dialogue   is   just   one   part   of   the   whole   entity.   In   some   such   cases,   there   is  
communication   or   inner   reference   between   these   epigrams,   comparable   with   the  
examples  above,  but  sometimes  there  are  not  connections  at  all.174  

 
2.4  Conclusion  
In  the  case  of  dialogue  epigrams,  dialogue  means  written  communication  between  
two   or   more   speaker   roles.   The   inner   communication   of   these   roles   and   the  
interdependence  of  the  turns  within  an  epigram  are  essential.    

The   speaker   of   the   epigrams,   like   speakers   in   real-­‐life   conversations,   has  

certain   expectations.   Certain   patterns,   like   speaking   objects,   were   a   known  
phenomenon   among   the   audience   of   the   texts.   There   are   also   conventions   within  
the   speaker   roles:   first   of   all,   there   is   only   a   certain   set   of   roles   in   the   verse  
inscription  dialogues.  The  monument,  the  passerby,  the  deceased/the  honorand  and  
the   relative   form   the   basic   three   speaker   pairs,   but   some   variation   occurs.   This  
speaker   division   has   its   roots   in   the   Archaic   speaking-­‐monument   tradition.   The  
object  can  talk  in  the  first  person  and/or  it  can  address  the  audience.    

Another  essential  feature  of  the  dialogue  epigram  is  the  development  of  the  
passerby  role.  In  the  early  epigrams,  the  passerby  occurred  as  an  addressee,  but  it  is  
focally   important   that   this   developed   into   a   speaker   role,   i.e.   that   the   passerby  
began   to   speak.   These   two   speaker   roles   –   the   monument   and   the   passerby   –  
chronologically   form   the   first   speaker   pair.   The   first   preserved   dialogue   epigram   (my  
example  no.  1)  is  fragmentary,  which  has  lead  some  scholars  to  argue  that  it  cannot  
be   taken   as   proof   for   dialogue,   but   I   suggest   that   there   are   enough   elements   of  
                                                                                                                         
174
 I  will  provide  further  examples  of  features  mentioned  in  this  chapter,  e.g.  between  a  dialogue  
epigram  and  a  monologue  epigram,  in  Chapters  3–5.  

  53  
dialogue   preserved   in   the   text   for   such   proof.   Ultimately,   pre-­‐Hellenistic   dialogues  
are  admittedly  few,  but  they  show  that  dialogues  were  a  known  phenomenon  in  the  
verse  inscriptions  before  the  Hellenistic  period;  how  common  they  were,  however,  
we  cannot  tell.  

  The   passerby   can   converse   with   either   the   monument   or   the   deceased.   In  
latter  cases,  the  function  of  the  deceased  as  a  speaker  role  is  very  similar  to  that  of  
the   monument.   The   speaker   role   of   the   deceased,   however,   has   an   additional  
aspect:   in   the   dialogues   with   the   relative,   the   deceased   role   is   not   informative   so  
much   as   consoling;   it   functions   on   a   more   abstract   level.   The   relative   as   a   speaker  
role   occurs   only   with   the   deceased,   and   information   similar   to   that   which   the  
monument  or  the  deceased  would  give  in  a  dialogue  with  the  passerby  is  often  given  
in   the   lament   of   the   relative.   In   some   epigrams,   these   speaker   roles   are  
accompanied   by   a   narrator   (mainly   in   type   3).   This   happens   in   a   phase   when   a   more  
narrative-­‐heavy  branch  of  epigrams  had  begun  to  develop.    

  On  the  basis  of  several  examples,  as  well  as  previous  studies,  I  argue  that  the  
texts   were   read,   or   at   least   that   this   possibility   was   taken   into   account   by   the  
composers   of   the   epigrams.   Reading   the   text   aloud   was   also   part   of   the   ritual.   Many  
of   the   epigrams   bear   indications   of   reading,   seeing   and/or   hearing.   I   focus   on   the  
communication   between   the   inner   actors   of   the   epigrams,   but   I   also   take   into  
consideration  the  reception  situation.  It  is  highly  likely  that  the  audience  of  at  least  
some  of  the  texts  was  wider  than  just  the  individuals  who  happened  to  read  the  text.  

  54  
3.  TYPE-­‐1  EPIGRAMS  

Type  1  is  chronologically  the  first  dialogue  epigram  type,  and  more  of  the  early  type-­‐
1   epigrams   exist   than   early   epigrams   of   the   other   two   types.   However,   ‘early’   is   a  
relative  concept;  in  the  context  of  dialogue  epigrams,  all  the  epigrams  dated  to  BCE  
are   early.   In   total,   there   are   nine   such   type-­‐1   epigrams.175  By   the   same   definition,  
any   epigram   from   the   3rd   century   CE   onwards   is   ‘late’,   and   there   are   seven   such  
examples.176  Type  1  is  most  common,  however,  during  the  first  three  centuries  CE.    

There   are   65   type-­‐1   dialogue   epigrams,   i.e.   ca   60%   of   all   dialogue   epigrams  
are   type   1.   Hence,   this   is   the   most   common   type;   the   basic   dialogue   epigram,   we  
could  perhaps  say.  There  are,  however,  four  variants  of  this  type.  Type-­‐1  epigrams  
consist  of  one  adjacency  pair:  X  –  Y  (t1).  The  number  of  the  moves  in  the  two  turns  
of   the   adjacency   pair   does   not   need   to   be   equal.   I   also   count   three-­‐turn   unit  
epigrams  (with  one  adjacency  pair  and  one  extra  turn)  as  type-­‐1  epigrams.  The  extra  
turn  can  be  either  at  the  beginning  of  the  epigram  or  at  the  end,  and  it  is  part  of  the  
same  unity  as  the  adjacency  pair  and  always  connected  to  it.  If  the  extra  turn  is  at  
the  beginning,  it  initiates  the  adjacency  pair,  and  if  at  the  end,  it  is  often  a  reaction  
to   the   second   turn   of   the   pair   (or   the   whole   pair).   Paradigms   for   type-­‐1   epigrams  
with   extra   turns   are   1   +   X   –   Y   (=   1   +   t1)   or   X   –   Y   +   1   (=   t1   +   1).   Yet,   the   epigrams   with  
the   extra   turns   are   more   of   an   exception:   there   are   58   type-­‐1   epigrams   with   X   –Y,  
and  only  seven  with  the  pair  and  an  extra  turn.    

  When   the   epigrams   are   cut   into   stone,   word   division   is   rarely   marked,   and  
neither   is   the   change   of   speaker.   How   is   the   division   of   the   turns   indicated,   then?  
How   does   the   reader   know   when   the   turn   and   the   speaker   changes,   and   how   can  
s/he   follow   the   epigram?   The   answer   is   of   course   the   language.   It   guides   the  
audience  with  patterns  that  are  repeated  in  the  epigrams.  Another  factor  that  makes  

                                                                                                                         
175 th th th 2
 GVI  1831,  6 /5  BCE;  SGO  1,  01/12/05,  5  century  BCE;  IG  II/III  7711  =  GVI  1386,  390–365  BCE;  
nd st nd
GVI  1851  =  SGO  2,  08/01/39,  2 /1  century  BCE;  IG  XII    3,  220  =  GVI  1832,  2  century  BCE;  GVI  1834,  
nd
2  century  BCE;  GVI  1833,  ca  88–86  BCE(?)  and  SGO  2,  09/07/09  and  SGO  4,  21/09/01,  both  dated  to  
the  Hellenistic  period.  
176
 SGO  1,  02/09/24,  ca  450  CE;  SGO  4,  21/07/01,  494–525  CE;  SGO  1,  02/14/06,  470  CE;  SGO  4,  
th th 2 th th  
20/16/01,  6  century  CE;  SEG  55,  775,  6  century  CE;  IG  IG  II/III  13166  =  GVI  1880,  4 /5 century  CE;  
th th  
SGO  2,  08/01/41,  4 /5 century  CE.  
.  

  55  
the   reception   easier   is   that,   as   noted   above,   the   readers/audience   were   aware   of  
certain   epigrammatic   features   and   conventions.   Still,   the   writers   of   the   poems   often  
emphasised  the  change.  For  us,  the  speakers  are  not  always  easy  to  detect,  or  the  
identification  we  give  them  may  change  during  the  course  of  reading/hearing.  This  
often   seems   to   be   a   deliberate   ploy   by   the   authors,   who   knew   that   the   text   could  
cause  confusion  at  first,  but  would  make  sense  towards  the  end  of  the  epigram.177    
In   this   chapter,   I   will   first   discuss   the   details   of   type-­‐1   epigrams.   By   this,   I  
mean   the   features   of   language   that   made   it   easier   for   the   reader/audience   to   follow  
the  dialogue.  All  of  these  are  elements  of  communication,  and  they  are  discussed  in  
Section  3.1,  where  I  present  the  linguistic  features  with  examples.    
In   Section   3.2,   I   will   analyse   type-­‐1   epigrams   on   the   adjacency-­‐pair   level.   I  
have   divided   the   type-­‐1   epigrams   on   the   basis   of   the   length   of   the   turns   and   will  
discuss   each   variant   separately.   This   means   that   I   will   give   examples   of   different  
variants  while  discussing  the  structure  of  the  turns  and  sometimes  also  examples  of  
the   moves   within   the   turns.   In   Section   3.2,   I   also   continue   discussing   the   features  
presented  in  Section  3.1.  
 

3.1  How  the  type-­‐1  pairs  were  built    

The  core  and  repeated  elements  of  type  1  are  those  that  indicate  the  speakers  and  
turns,   and   their   connections   and   separation.   These   are   addresses,   imperatives,  
interrogatives   (in   question–answer   pairs)   and   greetings   (in   greeting   pairs).   These  
elements   can   be   found   in   the   first   turn   of   the   type-­‐1   epigrams;   usually   the   turn  
contains   either   one   or   more   of   these.   Address   is   one   of   the   most   frequently   used  
features   in   opening   turns:   by   using   it   to   build   up   the   conversation   in   type   1,   the  
audience  is  made  aware  that  there  will  be  another  speaker  and  also  of  the  identity  of  
the  next  speaker.    
The  adjacency  pairs  in  type  1  are  either  question–answer  pairs,  greeting  pairs  
or   statement–response   pairs.   The   most   common   of   these   is   the   question–answer  
pair:  more  than  half  of  the  type-­‐1  epigrams  are  (or  in  the  case  of  three-­‐turn  units,  

                                                                                                                         
177
 However,  deliberate  play  with  the  roles  is  not  always  the  case.  cf.,  e.g.,  no.  3  in  Chapter  2.  

  56  
contain)  such  a  pair.178  Greeting  pairs  are  also  common  (discussed  in  Section  3.1.2),  
and  statement–response  pairs  occur  as  well  (Section  3.1.3).  
The  question–answer  epigrams  encompass  epigrams  with  interrogatives,  and  
epigrams   with   interrogatives   accompanied   by   certain   question   markers   in   the  
opening   turns.   These   form   various   combinations:   interrogative   +   address,  
interrogative  +  address  +  imperative  or  interrogative  +  imperative.    
Some  of  these  markers  that  we  find  in  the  opening  turns  can  also  occur  in  the  
response   turn:   addresses   are   often   used,   especially   if   the   opening   turn   does   not  
contain  one.  In  this  way,  one  of  the  speakers  is  identified  –  in  these  cases,  the  first  
speaker  is  identified  by  the  second  speaker  in  the  address.  When  the  address  is  used  
in  the  second  turn,  it  also  implies  a  change  of  speaker.    
It   is   worth   noting   that   almost   all   questions   in   dialogue   epigrams   are   so-­‐called  
question-­‐word   questions 179 .   Yes–no   questions   are   very   rare,   and   are   always   a  
variation  of  known  question-­‐word  questions.180  If  a  name  is  asked  for  in  a  question,  
one   way   of   emphasising   the   change   of   the   turn   and   the   speaker   is   to   give   the  
answer,  i.e.  the  name,  or  some  epithet  +  the  name,  at  the  beginning  of  the  opening  
sentence  of  the  response  turn,  i.e.  at  the  beginning  of  the  second  turn.  Another  way  
to  denote  the  change  is  to  repeat  a  word,  or  sometimes  to  give  a  variant  of  a  certain  
word  that  occurred  in  the  first  turn.  It  is  also  possible  to  repeat  the  idea  expressed  at  
the  end  of  the  first  turn  at  the  beginning  of  the  second  turn.    
In   order   to   make   these   combinations   clearer,   I   firstly   discuss   the   question–
answer   pairs   using   examples   of   each,   and   then   proceed   to   a   discussion   of   the  
greeting  pairs.    
 

                                                                                                                         
178
 See  Section  3.1.1.  
179
 Such  questions  are  also  called  wh-­‐questions  in  English.    
180
 cf.  in  IG  IX  1,  878:  -­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐εἶ  σύ  γ’  ὃν  ἠϊθέων  Δῆλος  ἔφερβε  θάλος;  —  κεῖνος,-­‐-­‐-­‐  
-­‐-­‐-­‐Are  you  the  one  that  Delos  nourished,  young  man  among  the  (other)  youth?  –  (I  am)  that  one-­‐-­‐-­‐.  

  57  
3.1.1  Type-­‐1  question–answer  pairs    

3.1.1.1  Interrogative  and  address  in  the  opening  turn  

In   the   earliest   examples   of   dialogues,   the   questions   comprised   an   address   at   the  

beginning   of   the   turn,   followed   by   an   interrogative. 181  This   combination   is   used  
especially  when  the  passerby  first  speaks  to  the  monument.  Due  to  the  address,  we  
know   that   the   speaker   is   about   to   change,   and   also   that   the   first   speaker   is   the  
passerby.  The  address  was  of  course  also  used  in  other  dialogue  types  (which  I  will  
discuss  in  the  following  chapters),  but  it  is  essential  in  building  the  pair  in  type  1.  The  
following  epigram  is  fragmentary,  but  most  likely  type  1:182  

 
1.     στήλη,  τίνα  ἐν  κόλ[ποισι]  
τυμβίοις  ἔχεις;  |  
—  σεμνὸν  Στρατόνε[ικον-­‐-­‐-­‐]  
 
Stele,   whom   do   you   hold   in   the   bosom   of   the   grave?   —   The   revered   (man)  
Stratone[ikon-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐  
 
The   speakers   are   again   the   passerby   and   the   monument.   The   passerby   begins   the  
first   turn   with   an   address,   and   the   interrogative   follows   immediately   after:   στήλη,  
τίνα-­‐-­‐-­‐.   The   answer   turn   begins   with   an   epithet   and   the   name:   σεμνὸν  
Στρατόνε[ικον-­‐-­‐-­‐.   It   is   possible   that   the   name   of   Stratoneikos’   father   and/or   his  
fatherland   was   mentioned.183  We   of   course   know   that   the   second   speaker   is   the  
monument,  not  only  because  of  the  address  στήλη,  but  also  because  of  the  use  of  
the  accusative:  whom  (do  you  cover)?  τίνα-­‐-­‐-­‐  -­‐>  σεμνὸν  Στρατόνε[ικον-­‐-­‐-­‐.  
In  the  next  epigram,  the  speakers  are  the  deceased  and  the  relative:184    
   

                                                                                                                         
181
 σφίξ,  hαΐδ̣[α]ο  [κ]ύον,  τ̣ίν̣ ᾽  ἔ[χοσ’]  ὄπιν̣  [φυ]λάσεις  and  αὐδὴ  τεχνήεσσα  λίθο,  λέγε  τίς  τόδ᾽  
ἄ̣[γαλμα]  στῆσεν:  beginnings  of  nos.  1  and  2  in  Chapter  2.  No.  2  also  features  the  imperative  λέγε.  
182 nd
 SGO  2,  10/02/31,  2  century  CE,  Caesarea/Hadrianoupolis,  Paphlagonia.  
183
 The  epigram  was  found  in  Deresamail  Köyü  with  several  other  grave  inscriptions,  also  epigrams.  
Most  of  them  are  rather  short  and  basic  (with  one  exception),  and  this  one  was  likely  the  same,  but  
we  cannot  tell  with  certainty.  For  other  epigrams  in  the  area,  see  Kaygusuz  1983,  111–45.  
184 2 2  
 IG  II/III  13374,  cf.  IG  II/III 13166;  GVI  I  1880;  Sironen  1997,  169,  no.  100,  Athens  (Acropolis),  
th th
4 /5  century  CE.  

  58  
  
2.   [-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐?]  
τίπ̣τ̣ε,  π̣ό̣σ̣ι̣[ς],  φων̣[εῖς;  τί  δὲ  Τάρταρ᾽,  ὅμευ]-­‐  
                                                       νε,  ᾽πικι[νεῖς];    |  
—    πῶς  κρυερὴ  σιγή;  τί  β[αρὺ  σκότος  ὄσσε  κάλυψε];  
ποῦ  χάριτες  φιλίης  [πρότεραι  κραδίης  γλυ]-­‐  
           5                                  κερᾶς  [τε]    |  
ἦθος  v  τῇ  τε  λύρῃ  v  [συμμειξαμένη  ποτ᾽  ἀοιδή];  
αἰαῖ,  πάντα  λέλοιπ᾽  [ἀπιὼν  στυγερὴν  ὑπὸ]  
                                                           γαῖαν·∙    |  
ν̣αὶ  μὰ  σέ,  νῦν  θ᾽  Ἑλι[κών,  πρίν  τ᾽  Ἀΐδης  φθονερός].  
 
…why  in  the  world  do  you  keep  on  ca[lling  me],  spouse?  [Why  do  you]  set  [Tartarus  in  
motion,  o  consort?]  —  Why  (this)  chilling  silence?  What  h[eavy  darkness  covered  my  
eyes]?   Where   are   the   [previous?]   charms   [of   love,   the   disposition   of   the?]   swe[et  
heart?],   and   [the   singing   and   the   accompaniment?]   of   the   lyre?   Alas,   you   left  
everything  [when  you  went  under]  the  earth.  Verily  by  you,  now  Heli[con,  before  the  
envious  Hades?].  
 
(Translation  by  Sironen)  
 
The  speakers  are  the  deceased  and  the  relative.  As  the  stone  is  broken  in  the  upper  
corners,  it  is  not  certain  whether  or  not  there  was  more  text  above  it,  but  perhaps  
not   –   the   epigram   seems   to   be   a   type-­‐1   epigram   starting   with   the   line   of   the  
deceased.   Restorations   are   mostly   by   Peek,   and   if   we   follow   him,   the   text   is  
composed   in   hexameters,   but,   as   Sironen   points   out,   it   is   at   least   theoretically  
possible  to  restore  all  but  the  fifth  verse  in  pentameters.185  Here,  as  often  is  the  case  
with   dialogues   between   the   deceased   and   the   relative,   the   epigram   is   not   about  
information,   but   about   expressing   the   family   members’   feelings   of   loss;   even   the  
turn   of   the   deceased   refers   to   this,   when   the   deceased   asks   why   the   spouse   (still)  
calls  upon  the  deceased.    

                                                                                                                         
185
 Sironen  1997,  169.  

  59  
 The  answer  turn  begins  with  a  counter  question  in  line  3.  In  the  first  turn  (ll.  
1–2),  the  deceased  asked  why  the  spouse  called,  and  the  spouse  here  (l.  3)  replies  by  
lamenting:  πῶς  κρυερὴ  σιγή;  τί  β[αρὺ  σκότος  ὄσσε  κάλυψε].  The  silence  presumably  
refers  to  the  deceased  and  her  silence.    
It  is  possible  to  read  the  first  turn  as  continuing  until  line  6  (ἦθος  v  τῇ  τε  λύρῃ  
v   [συμμειξαμένη   ποτ᾽   ἀοιδή];),   in   which   case   the   speaker   would   change   only   after  

αἰαῖ.  Yet,  if  we  look  at  the  content,  (τίπ̣τ̣ε,  π̣ό̣σ̣ι̣[ς],  φων̣[εῖς,  followed  by  πῶς  κρυερὴ  
σιγή)   it   seems   probable   that   there   is   a   change   of   speaker,   even   though   it   is   not  
clearly   indicated,   because   it   would   be   peculiar   to   complain   about   both   calling   and  
silence  in  the  same  turn.  
  An  epigram  from  Smyrna  contains  a  prose  title.  In  these  lines,  it  is  revealed  
that   Ioulia   Tyrannion   had   the   monument   made   for   her   husband   and   son.   Below   it,  
we  see  the  epigram:  186    

3.   Ἰ(ουλία)   Τυράννιον   Τι(βερίῳ)   Κλ(αυδίῳ)   Ἀγαθόποδι   τῶι   |   ἀνδρὶ   καὶ   Τι(βερίῳ)              

Κλ(αυδίῳ)  Ἰουλιανῶι  τῶι  τέκνωι  μνήας  |  χάριν.      
 
μῆτερ,  τί  στενάχεις,  τί  δάκρυσι  ἐνθάδε  |  μύρῃ;    
ὣς  ἐφάνη  Μοίραις  ἐμὲ  τὸν  νέον  ὧδ|ε  κατελθεῖν    
λείψαντι  ζωιὴν  καὶ  ὁμήλικας·∙  ἀλλ’  ὑπὸ  Λήθην    
     βῆι  πατὴρ  σὺν  ἐμοί·∙  τοῦτο  φιλοτεκνία.  —    
             5        οὐκ  ἐφάνην  ψευστὴς  ἐπὶ  |  σοί,  τέκνον,  ἀλλ᾽  ὑπὸ  Λήθην    
ἦλθον  λιπὼν  |  ζωιὴν  καὶ  φιλ[ί]α̣ν  γαμέτιν.  |  
χαίρειν  πᾶσι  φίλοις  |  κατακείμενος  ἔνθα  παραινῶ    
καὶ  μετέχειν  |  ζωιῆς·∙  ὧδε  γάρ  ἐστ᾽  Ἀΐδης.  hedera  
 
Ioulia  Tyrannion,  for  the  memory  of  her  husband  Tiberius  Claudius  Agathopous  and  
son  Tiberius  Claudius  Iulianus.  

Mother,  why  do  you  groan,  and  tear  your  heart  here  in  tears?  Such  was  the  decision  
of   the   Moiras   that   I,   a   youngster,   go   to   the   Underworld   this   way,   leaving   my   life   and  
                                                                                                                         
186 nd
 Smyrna  249,  cf.  SGO  1,  05/01/32  and  GVI  1879,  2  century  CE  (Peek).  

  60  
my  coevals  behind.  But  my  father  came  with  me  down  here  to  the  Oblivion.  That  is  
love  for  (your)  child!  

—  My  child,  you  were  not  mistaken  about  me,  but  I  came  down  to  Oblivion,  leaving  
my   life   and   my   dear   wife   behind.   Here   I   lie   and   advise   all   friends   to   rejoice   and   to  
participate  in  life,  for  Hades  is  so  (cheerless).  

The  basic  facts  about  the  deceased  are  given  in  the  prose  section  above  the  epigram,  
and  the  actual  epigram187  concentrates  more  on  the  grief  of  the  family  and  the  idea  
of   the   afterlife.   In   this   verse   section,   the   speakers   are   the   deceased   and   the   relative.  
The   first   turn   starts   with   an   address,   which   immediately   draws   the   reader’s  
attention.   It   also   reveals   that   the   first   speaker   is   the   deceased,   as   only   the   deceased  
could   say   the   address   ‘mother’   in   this   context.   Therefore,   the   deceased   son   first  
addresses   his   mourning   mother   and   asks   why   she   is   crying,   using   an   interrogative  
and   an   address:   μῆτερ,   τί   στενάχεις,   τί   δάκρυσι   ἐνθάδε   μύρῃ;  At   the   end   of   his   turn,  
the  deceased  mentions  that  his  father  also  came  down  to  Oblivion:  ἀλλ᾽  ὑπὸ  Λήθην  
βῆι  πατὴρ  σὺν  ἐμοί-­‐-­‐-­‐.  
The  change  of  speaker  is  then  easy  to  detect,  as  the  father  addresses  the  son  
at  the  beginning  of  the  second  turn:  οὐκ  ἐφάνην  ψευστὴς  ἐπὶ  |  σοί,  τέκνον-­‐-­‐-­‐.  The  
repetition   of   φιλοτεκνία   (in   the   first   turn)   with   τέκνον   (in   the   second)   may   also   have  
helped   in   following   the   conversation.   What   is   remarkable   here   is   that   both   the  
interlocutors   are   dead.   Normally,   either   the   parent   or   the   child   is   alive,   but   in   this  
case,   the   mother,   who   is   still   alive,   is   not   an   inner   actor   in   the   epigram.   She   is  
addressed   at   the   beginning   of   the   poem,   but   does   not   have   a   turn   of   her   own.  
Instead,  the  dead  father  converses  with  his  dead  son.  The  son  in  the  first  turn  does  
not   actually   address   his   father,   but   rather   talks   about   him   in   the   third   person  
singular:  ὑπὸ  Λήθην  βῆι  πατὴρ  σὺν  ἐμοί.  Despite  the  fact  that  the  deceased  does  not  
address  his  father  in  his  turn  (turn  1),  the  father’s  turn  (turn  2)  is  a  reaction  to  the  

                                                                                                                         
187
 According  to  SGO,  viele  metrische  Schnitzer:  the  first  three  verses  are  probably  meant  to  be  
hexameter,  the  fourth  perhaps  pentameter,  but  there  are  mistakes  throughout.  Verses  5–8  are  
elegiacs  without  mistakes.  

  61  
deceased’s  turn,  so  there  is  a  connection  between  the  two.  Moreover,  the  fact  that  
the  father  addresses  his  son  (ἐπὶ  σοί,  τέκνον-­‐-­‐-­‐)  connects  the  turns  together.188    
 

3.1.1.2  Interrogative,  address  and  imperative  in  the  opening  turn  

In  some  epigrams,  the  questions  are  emphasised  by  an  imperative.  Imperatives  were  
characteristic   of   early   sepulchral   epigrams   in   which   the   passerby   was   told   to   do  
something,   but   in   the   dialogue   epigrams,   the   passerby   can   also   use   the  
imperative.189  In   such   cases,   the   imperative   is   always   hortatory;   it   is   linked   to   the  
question   and   urges   the   second   speaker   to   act.   The   imperative   appears   at   the  
beginning  of  the  sentence,  after  the  interrogative,  or  at  the  end  of  the  turn,  after  the  
question   move.   When   the   passerby   addresses   the   monument   (or   the   deceased),   the  
verb  is  always  one  of  saying,  telling,  revealing  or  something  similar.190  At  the  end  of  
the  turn,  it  also  marks  the  change  of  speaker.  This  epigram  is  from  Thessaly:191  
 
4.     Λαμπίδος  ἆρα  τάφον  παραμείβομαι;  
                           ἔννεπε,  λᾶε.  |  
—  ναί,  ξένε,  τᾶς  ὁσίας  εἰς  τέκνα  καὶ  γονέας.  |  
ἀλλ᾽  ἴθι  μοι  χαίρων  καὶ  ἐπεύχεο  
         5     πολλὰ  θεοῖσι  |  
σὺν  τοιᾶιδε  ἀλόχωι  ξυνὰ  μολεῖν  μέλαθρ[α].  
 

Is   this   the   tomb   of   Lampis   that   I   am   passing   by?   Tell,   stone!   —   Yes,   stranger,   the  
funeral  rites  were  due  to  children  and  parents.  But  go  rejoicing  and  pray  to  the  gods  
greatly  so  that  you  will  go  to  the  common  house  with  such  a  noble  spouse.  
 

The  speakers  in  this  epigram  are  the  passerby  and  the  monument.  The  passerby  also  
begins  this  poem,  but  instead  of  asking  whose  tomb  this  is,  the  passerby  asks  if  the  

                                                                                                                         
188
 For  address  +  interrogative,  see  also  SEG  18,  269  (τίς  τίνος  οὗσε  γυνὴ  σύ  βαρῆ  ὑβο  κίονα  κῖσε-­‐-­‐-­‐);  
2  
GVI  1831  (fragmentary);  GVI  1833;  GVI  1834;  GVI  1835  =  SGO  3,  14/07/02;  IG  II/III 12794  =  GVI  1836;  
GVI  1849  =  SGO  2,  09/06/99;  and  no.  32  in  this  chapter  (GVI  1883  =  IG  XIV  769).  
189
 For  early  sepulchral  imperatives,  see  Tueller  2008,  38.  Cf.  Rasche  1910,  41.  
190
 For  an  extensive  list  for  such  verbs,  see  Mastrokostas  1964,  311  (note  3).  
191 rd
 SEG  23,  434,  3  century  BCE,  Thessaly,  Pherae.  

  62  
tomb  belongs  to  Lampis  (Λαμπίδος  ἆρα  τάφον-­‐-­‐-­‐),  i.e.  he  already  knows  the  name.  
After   the   question   move,   there   is   an   imperative   and   an   address   before   the   switch   of  
the   turn:   ἔννεπε,   λᾶε.   Note   also   that   the   passerby   uses   the   verb   ‘pass   by’,  
παραμείβομαι,  which  clearly  indicates  that  he,  the  one  who  speaks,  is  the  passerby.  
Due   to   the   use   of   ἆρα192  in   the   first   turn,   the   answer   turn   begins   with   ναί,   so  
it  is  easy  to  follow  the  speakers,  especially  as  ξένε  comes  immediately  after  ναί.  τᾶς  
ὁσίας   εἰς   τέκνα   καὶ   γονέας   reveals   that   the   deceased   had   children.   After   the   reply  
move,  a  direct  invitation  to  participate  in  the  ritual  follows  in  the  second  turn:  ἀλλ᾽  
ἴθι  μοι  χαίρων  καὶ  ἐπεύχεο-­‐-­‐-­‐  (l.  4).  Here,  ἀλλ᾽  clearly  indicates  a  new  topic.  Firstly,  
there  was  the  answer  at  the  beginning  of  the  turn,  but  from  ἀλλ᾽  onwards,  there  is  
an  invitation  to  participate  in  the  ritual.193  
  The  following  epigram  is  from  a  boundary  stone:194  
 
5.     θηρῶν  κράτιστε  καὶ  |θεῶν  μύστα,  λέων,  |  
τίνος  φυλάσσεις  χῶρον  |ἐς  γένος  μακρόν;  |    
τίς  σῆς  ὑπάρχει  θνητὸς  ὢν  |τειμῆς,  φράσον.  |  
 
—  ἀνδρῶν  ἄριστος  καὶ  πάτρας|  προὔχων  ἀνήρ|  
               5      ἀρετῆς  τε  πάσης  στέμμασιν  |  κοσμούμενος  |  
Σανδαῖος,  ὃς  γῆς  δεσπότης  |ταύτης  κυρεῖ.  |  
 

Strongest  of  beasts  and  initiate  to  the  gods,  lion,  whose  land  do  you  guard  for  long  
generations?  Say,  which  mortal  receives  this  honor  from  you?  
—  The  best  of  men  and  he  who  is  prominent  in  his  hometown,  adorned  with  wreaths  
of  every  honor,  Sandaios,  who  rules  as  master  over  this  land.    

(Translation  by  Bettenworth)  

 
The  speakers  are  the  passerby  and  the  monument.  The  monument  in  this  case  is  the  
figure   of   a   lion.   At   the   beginning   of   the   epigram,   the   passerby   addresses   the  
monument  (l.  1  as  a  whole),  he  then  asks  a  question  (τίνος  φυλάσσεις  χῶρον-­‐-­‐-­‐)  and  
                                                                                                                         
192
 Mastrokostas  1964:  ἄρα;  GG  424:  ἦρα.  
193
 I  will  discuss  the  particles  and  their  use  in  the  dialogues  in  more  detail  in  Chapter  4.  
194 st rd  
 SGO  4,  19/10/01,  1 –3 century  CE,  Canytelis,  Cilicia.  

  63  
after  that  exhorts  the  monument  to  give  information,  using  the  imperative  φράσον  
at   the   end   of   the   first   turn.   The   answer   (Σανδαῖος)   comes   relatively   late   (at   the  
beginning  of  l.  6),  but  the  epithets  of  Sandaios  begin  the  turn:  ἀνδρῶν  ἄριστος  καὶ  
πάτρας|   προὔχων   ἀνήρ-­‐-­‐-­‐.   The   imperative   φράσον   reveals   that   these   epithets   are  
given   by   the   second   speaker.   Both   turns   cover   three   lines,   and   it   seems   that   the  
elements   in   the   question   and   the   answer   turns   are   harmoniously   matched:   both  
turns   begin   with   epithets   and   an   address.   Furthermore,   τίς   is   asked   at   the   beginning  
of   the   third   line   of   the   first   turn,   and   the   reply,   the   name   Σανδαῖος,   comes   at   the  
beginning  of  the  third  line  of  the  second  turn.  As  noted  above,  this  epigram  is  from  a  
boundary   stone,   but   it   looks   significantly   like   several   grave   epigrams,   especially  
because  of  the  lion  motif.195    
It  is  also  possible  to  use  the  combination  address  +  imperative  in  the  answer  
turn.  This  epigram  is  from  Beirut:196  

 
6.     ἐνθάδε  τίς  κεῖται;  —  παροδοιπόρε  μεῖνον,  ἄκουσον·∙  
χρηστὸς  ἀνὴρ  ἔνδοξος  ἁπλοῦς  κοινὸς  φιλέταιρος,  
τέχνην  καὶ  πίστιν  ἐπιδειξάμενος  παρὰ  πᾶσιν,  
μηδένα  λυπήσας,  μὴ  λυπηθεὶς  ἐπὶ  τέκνοις·∙  
                 5    τοὔνομα  δ᾽  ἐστὶ  Παρᾶτος  ὀνομαζόμενος  παρὰ  πᾶσι,  
μήτε  νόσῳ  μακρᾷ  κεκολασμένος,  ἀλλ᾽  ἐπὶ  μοῖραν  
εἵνεκεν  εὐσεβίης  εὐθανάτως  ἔμολεν.    
Λούκιος  Ἰούλιος  Παρᾶτος  
ἔζη  ἔτη  μβʹ′,  μῆνες  ηʹ′,  ἡμέρας    ιεʹ′.  
 
Who  lies  here?  —  Passerby,  stop  and  listen  here:  he  was  an  important  man,  held  in  
honour,   sincere,   common,   true   to   his   comrades,   exhibiting   skill   and   trust   among  
everyone,  hurting  nobody,  not  hurt  for  his  children.  His  name  is  Paratos,  that  is  how  

                                                                                                                         
195
 Bettenworth  discusses  the  shared  characteristics  of  tomb  and  border  stones,  and  suggests  that  the  
epigram  perhaps  reminded  the  reader  of  the  epigram  of  Antipater  (AG  7.426);  see  Bettenworth  2007,  
90–1.  Also  SGO:  Der  Dichter  dieses  Epigramms  hat  Antipatros  von  Sidon,  A.P.  VII  426,  gekannt-­‐-­‐.  See  
also  Christian  2015,  21.  
196
 GVI  1840,  late  Imperial  period,  Beirut.  For  other  imperative  +  address  +  interrogative  combinations  
in  the  question  turn,  see  SGO  1,  01/12/05  =  CEG  429  (no.  2  in  Chapter  2);  GVI  1834  (no.  27  in  this  
chapter);  SGO  4,  20/06/01  (no.  25  in  this  chapter).  

  64  
everyone   calls   him.   He   was   not   subdued   by   long   disease,   but   rightly   for   his   reverence  
towards  the  gods  he  passed  away  happily.  
Lucius  Iulius  Paratus  lived  42  years,  3  months,  15  days.    
 

The   speakers   are   the   passerby   and   the   monument.   The   passerby   asks   ἐνθάδε   τίς  
κεῖται;,   and   before   actually   replying,   the   monument   says   παροδοίπορε   μεῖνον,  
ἄκουσον,   and   only   then   starts   to   tell   about   the   deceased   in   a   rather   praiseful  
manner.   This   address   +   interrogative   +   interrogative   structure   separates   the   parts   of  
the  epigram.  The  first  verse  consists  of  the  question  turn  and  the  interjection  (at  the  
beginning   of   the   second   turn),   and   the   rest   of   the   epigram   (six   verses)   is   the  
remainder  of  the  reply  turn.  This  interjection  also  gives  the  audience  time  to  prepare  
for  the  actual  information,  and  it  helps  to  draw  attention  to  the  following  sentences.  
In   the   reply   turn,   the   deceased   is   firstly   praised,   then   μὴ   λυπηθεὶς   ἐπὶ   τέκνοις   refers  
to   his   family   status,   and   finally,   in   line/verse   5,   his   name   is   given   (τοὔνομα   δ᾽   ἐστὶ  
Παρᾶτος-­‐-­‐-­‐),  after  which  the  praise  continues.  

 
3.1.1.3  Interrogative  only  in  the  opening  turn  

Even   though   the   questions   with   address   and   address   +   imperative   are   common,  
there  are  of  course  question  turns  that  contain  neither  of  these,  and  the  questions  
which   contain   only   question   words   are   common.197  In   the   opening   turn   of   these  
type-­‐1  epigrams,  interrogative(s)  can  be  the  only  word(s)  of  the  turn,  but  most  often  
there  is  a  complete  sentence,  the  length  of  which  varies,  or  several  sentences.  The  
two  speakers  and  the  change  of  speaker  are  marked  subtly.  One  reason  may  be  the  
fact   that   the   audience   already   knew   the   dialogue   pattern,   and   hence   the   fact   that  
there  are  two  different  speakers  did  not  need  to  be  emphasised.  The  following  two  
examples  begin  with  interrogatives:    

 
7.     τίς  πόθεν;  —  ἐκ  Λυκίης  μέν,  
ἀριστεύσας  δ᾽  ἐνὶ  θώκοις  

                                                                                                                         
197
 In  addition  to  the  epigrams  discussed  in  this  section,  see  SGO  2,  09/07/09;  GVI  1884;  IC  IV  391,  no.  
431;  IG  IV,  1603;  GVI  1839;  GVI  1841;  GVI  1849  (although  the  interrogative  is  in  the  restored  part);  
SGO  1,  05/01/18;  SGO  1,  05/01/19;  SGO  1,  05/01/57;  GVI  1840;  SGO  4,  21/07/01;  SEG  55,  775;  SGO  2,  
11/07/05.  

  65  
 Τατιανὸς  θεσμοῖς  τε  δίκης  
πτολίεθρα  σαώσας·∙  vacat  
             5     ἀλλά  με  πανδαμάτωρ  χρόνος  
ὤλλυεν,  εἰ  μὴ  ἐμὸς  παῖς  
ἐξ  ἐμέθεν  τρίτατος  καὶ  
ὁμώνυμος  ἔργα  τ᾽  ὅμοιος  
ἐκ  δαπέδων  ἀνελὼν  
           10     στήλης  ἔπι  θηκεν  ὁρᾶσ[θαι]  
πᾶσιν  ἀρίζηλον  ναέταις  
ξίνοισει  θ᾽  ὁμοίως,  vacat  
Καρῶν  ἐκ  γέης  ὅς  ἀπήλασε  
λοίγιον  ἄτην,  vacat  
           15     τὴν  δὲ  δίκην  μερόπεσιν  
ὁμέστιον  ὤπασ᾽  ἐπεῖναι̣  
πεμφθεὶς  ἐκ  βασιλῆος  
ἔθ᾽  ἁδομένοισιν  ἀρωγός.  
 

Who  is  this?  From  where?  —  (I  am)  Tatianus  from  Lycia,  who  held  the  highest  offices,  
and  by  just  laws  saved  cities.  But  all-­‐conquering  time  would  have  destroyed  me  if  my  
child,  of  the  third  generation,  who  has  the  same  name  and  similar  achievements,  had  
not   lifted   me   up   from   the   ground   and   set   me   on   a   monument,   to   be   seen   and  
admired  by  all,  local  inhabitants  and  strangers  alike.  (It  is)  he  who  drove  deadly  ruin  
from   the   land   of   the   Carians,   and   gave   justice   to   dwell   among   men,   when   he   had  
been  sent  from  the  emperor  as  a  defender  for  the  people,  who  still  rejoice.  198  
 
(Translation  by  Roueché)  
 

8.     [τ]ίς  τύπον  εἱμερόεντα  Ἰούνορος  ἀνθυπάτοιο  

     ἥρπασε,  τίς  μορφὴν  τῇδ᾽  ἐνέγλυψε  λίθῳ;  —    
μορφὴν  λαοτόμος  μὲν  ἑῇ  μειμήσατο  τέχνῃ  
     Ἑλλάδι  κόσμον  ὅλον  μητρὶ  χαριζόμενος,  
             5     [σ]τῆσε  δ’  ἀγασσάμενός  μιν  ἀμύμων  Εὐτυχιανὸς  
                                                                                                                         
198
 SGO  1,  02/09/24,  ca  450  CE,  from  Aphrodisias,  Caria.  cf.  Roueché  2004,  
http://insaph.kcl.ac.uk/ala2004/inscription/eAla037.html.    

  66  
      [ἀ]ντὶ  κασιγνήτου  εὖ  δίεπων  Ἐφύρην.  
                                        vacat  

             7     ψ(ηφίσματι)                              β(ουλῆς).  
 

[W]ho  has  captured  the  pleasing  figure  of  the  proconsul  Junior,  who  has  carved  his  
form   in   stone?   —   The   stonemason   has   imitated   his   form   with   his   craft,   freely  
bestowing   the   whole   ornament   on   mother   Greece,   and   blameless   Eutychianos,  
admiring  him,  [s]et  him  up,  administering  Ephyre  instead  of  his  brother.199  
 
 (Translation  by  Brown  with  some  adjustments)  
 

In   example   number   7,   the   speakers   are   the   passerby   and   the   monument.   The  
question   turn   consists   of   two   interrogatives:   τίς   and   πόθεν;  Nothing   else   is   said,   and  
the   direction   of   speech   is   not   indicated,   nor   is   the   next   speaker   identified   (no  
address).  The  answer  turn  begins  with  ἐκ  Λυκίης,  and  the  use  of  the  preposition  also  
denotes  that  the  answer  turn  begins.  The  two  questions  are  answered  here  with  a  
μέν–δέ   structure:   ἐκ   Λυκίης   μέ[ν,]/   ἀριστεύσας   δ᾽   ἐνὶ   θώκοις   /   Τατιανὸς-­‐-­‐-­‐.   In   the  
first   four   lines,   the   identity   of   the   deceased   is   clarified,   but   after   that,   there   is   a   shift  
of   focus.   This   is   again   marked   with   ἀλλά,   like   in   epigram   number   4.   From   the   fifth  
line   onwards,   the   epigram   tells   about   the   grandchild   of   the   deceased,   and   not   the  
deceased  anymore.  This  grandchild,  also  named  Tatianos,  restored  the  monument,  
and   the   epigram   also   praises   his   deeds.   This   is   a   rare   combination:   a   posthumous  
honorary   epigram   (of   an   ancestor)   and   an   honorary   epigram   (of   a   living   descendant)  
in  one  monument.    
  Another   option   is   to   read   this   whole   epigram   as   a   monologue   of   the  
deceased  with  a  self-­‐reference  in  the  beginning:  You  ask,  who  and  from  where  the  
dead   person   is   –   I   am   Tatianus   from   Lycia-­‐-­‐-­‐,   but   dialogue   form   is   at   least   a   valid  
option  here  and  cannot  be  ruled  out.200  

                                                                                                                         
199 rd
 Corinth,  late  3  century  CE;  for  date,  see  Davenport  2013,  226,  n.  11.  Edition  based  on  autopsy;  cf.  
IG  IV  1603  and  Corinth  VIII,  1,  no.  89.  cf.  Brown  2012,  164.  I  added  the  mark  for  the  change  of  speaker  
to  Brown’s  translation.  
200
 As  also  in  SGO  Roueché,  cf.  note  198.  

  67  
 Example   number   8   is   an   honorary   epigram.   Who   are   the   speakers?   In   the  
question  turn  (ll.  1–2),  the  speaker  could  be  the  passerby.  If  so,  the  speaker  in  the  
remainder   of   the   epigram   would   be   the   monument.   Brown,   however,   does   not  
indicate  a  change  of  speaker  in  her  translation.  Self-­‐referentiality  is  an  option  again,  
but  certain  elements  here  are  similar  with  question  –  answer  structures  in  dialogues.  
The   question   turn   in   this   epigram   is   notably   longer   and   more   complex   than   in  
number   7,   but   there   is   still   no   address   in   the   first   turn,   nor   is   there   a   question   about  
the  name  of  the  honorand.  Instead,  the  epigram  begins  with  a  question  about  who  
set  up  the  statue  of  Junior  (whose  name  the  enquirer  knows),  and  the  epigram  gives  
his   name   to   the   reader   in   this   question   move   –   a   question   that   concerns   the  
sculptor:   [τ]ίς   τύπον   εἱμερόεντα   Ἰούνορος   ἀνθυπάτοιο   /   ἥρπασε,   τίς   μορφὴν   τῇδ᾽  
ἐνέγλυψε  λίθῳ;  In  this  opening  turn,  the  same  question  is  actually  asked  twice;  the  
nucleus   of   the   turn   is   who?   (it   occurs   twice),   but   by   asking   the   question   in   more  
elaborate   sentences   than,   for   example,   ‘who   sculpted   this?’,   the   writer   also   gets   a  
chance  to  praise  the  monument.  The  epigram  is  composed  as  if  it  were  assumed  that  
any  passersby  would  recognise  the  person  whom  the  statue  depicts,  as  he  was  such  
a  notable  man  in  society.  The  first  turn  ends  with  τίς  μορφὴν  τῇδ᾽  ἐνέγλυψε  λίθῳ;,  
and   the   answer   turn   starts   with   a   repetition:   μορφὴν   λαοτόμος   μὲν   ἑῇ   μειμήσατο  
τέχνῃ-­‐-­‐-­‐.  Another  piece  of  information  –  the  identity  of  the  dedicator  –  is  given  in  the  
fifth   verse,   after   δέ.   I   am   inclined   to   read   this   text   as   a   dialogue:   repetition   of   the  
word  μορφὴν  and  the  use  of  the  particle  δέ  prepare  the  audience  for  the  change  of  
speaker  and  for  the  information  about  the  dedicator  –  the  name  Eutychianos  follows  
later,   at   the   end   of   line   5.   There   are   some   monologue   epigrams   that   contain  
rhetorical  questions,  but,  as  this  epigram  follows  the  question–answer  pattern,  it  is  
possible   to   read   it   as   a   dialogue   as   well.   Admittedly,   the   speaker   in   lines   3–6   is  
somewhat   vague,   but,   as   noted   earlier,   this   is   not   unusual. 201  Even   though   the  
speaker  is  rather  impersonal,  and  in  that  sense  draws  close  to  the  narrator  role,  its  
function  is  similar  to  the  traditional  monument  role.  

  The  text  is  cut  into  a  statue  base,  and  the  epigram  comments  on  the  statue  
that  once  stood  above  it.  There  is  also  a  kind  of  dialogue  between  the  text  and  the  

                                                                                                                         
201
 cf.  Section  2.2.6.  

  68  
statue:  the  text  comments  on  the  figure  of  Junior,  whereas  the  statue  itself  remains  
silent.202  This   interplay   between   the   question   and   the   answer   draws   the   attention   of  
the  reader/audience  to  the  whole  monument.203    

3.1.1.4  Other  question  structures  

In   addition   to   the   structures   presented   above,   there   are   epigrams   which   contain  
interrogative(s)  and  imperative(s)  but  do  not  have  an  address  in  the  opening  turn.204  
The  following  epigram  from  a  statue  base  in  Olympia  is  an  honorary  epigram  for  an  
athlete:205    
 

9.       Π(όπλιος)  Κορνήλιος  Εἰρηναίου  υἱὸς  

Ἀρίστων  Ἐφέσιος,  παῖς  
        πανκρατιαστὴς  νεικήσας  
              Ὀλυμπιάδι  σζ᾽,  
       5       Διὶ    Ὀλυμπίωι.  
 
οὗτος  ὁ  παιδὸς  ἀκμήν,  ἀνδρὸς  δ᾽  ἐπικείμενος  ἀλκήν̣,  
     οὗτος  ἐφ᾽οὗ  τὸ  καλὸν  καὶ  σθεναρὸν  βλέπεται,  
τίς  πόθεν  εἶ;  τίνος;  εἰπέ·∙  τίνων  ἐπινείκια  μόχθων  
           αὐχήσας  ἔστης  Ζηνὸς  ὑπὸ  προδόμοις;    —  
         10     Εἰρηναῖος  ἐμοὶ  γενέτης,  ξένε,  τοὔνομ᾽  Ἀρίστων,  
           πατρὶς  Ἰωνογενὴς  ἀμφοτέρων  Ἔφεσος·∙  
ἐστέφθην  ἀνέφεδρος  Ὀλύμπια  πανκρατίῳ  παῖς  

                                                                                                                         
202
 Granted,  it  is  the  monument  talking  at  the  end  of  the  epigram,  but  there  are  no  signs  of  the  statue  
talking;  rather,  it  seems  the  statue  base  is  reporting  the  story.  
203
 Today,  the  statue  base  remains  in  Corinth,  in  situ  by  the  Lechaion  road  on  the  archaeological  site,  
but,  unfortunately,  it  no  longer  has  its  sculpture,  which  is  usual.    
204
 In  addition  to  no.  9  discussed  here:  IG  VII  3110,  cf.  GVI  1838  (depends  on  the  reading,  however)  
and  SGO  1,  05/01/57.  
205
 Olympia  5,  225,  49  CE  (Olympia).  Side  a:  the  prose  part  (ll.  1–5);  side  b:  ll.  6–13,  side  c:  the  epigram  
continues  (ll.  14–23).  I  have  read  this  stone  myself  in  Olympia,  but  I  have  very  few  new  readings:  only  
the  end  of  line  6  and  beginning  of  line  13.  The  text  is  well  enough  preserved  and  leaves  no  space  for  
speculations.    
 
 

  69  
 τρ̣ι̣σσὰ  κατ᾽  ἀντιπάλων  ἆθλα  κονεισάμενος.  
 
Ἀσίδι  μὲν  πάση̣ι  κηρύσσομαι,  εἰμὶ  δ’  Ἀρίστων  
15          κεῖνος  ὁ  πανκρατίωι  στεψάμενος  κότινον,  
Ἑλλὰς  ὃν  εἶπε  τέλειον,  ὅτ’  εἶδέ  με  παιδὸς  ἐν  ἀκμῆι  
                 τὴν  ἀνδρῶν  ἀρετὴν  χερσὶν  ἐνενκάμενον.  
οὐ  γὰρ  ἐν  εὐτυχίηι  κλήρου  στέφος,  ἀλλ’  ἐφεδρείης  
                 χωρὶς  ἀπ’  Ἀλφειοῦ  καὶ  Διὸς  ἠσπασάμην.  
20   ἑπτὰ  γὰρ  ἐκ  παίδων  παλάμας  μόνος  οὐκ  ἀνέπαυσα,  
               ζευγνύμενος  δ’  αἰεὶ  πάντας  ἀπεστεφάνουν.  
τοιγὰρ  κυδαίνω  γενέτην  ἐμὸν  Εἰρηναῖον  
               καὶ  πάτρην  Ἔφεσον  στέμμασιν  ἀθανάτοις.  
Τιβερίου  Κλαυδίου  Θεσσαλοῦ  Κῴου  πλειστονείκου.  
 

Publius  Cornelius  Ariston,  son  of  Eirenaios  from  Ephesus,  victor  in  boys’  pankration  at  
the  207th  Olympiad,  to  the  Olympian  Zeus.  
 
You  bloom  of  youth,  becoming  to  the  strength  of  a  man,  in  whom  one  sees  beauty  
and  strength;  who  and  from  which  country  are  you?  Whose  son?  Tell,  what  victory  
sacrifices   do   you   boast,   standing   under   the   hallways   of   Zeus?   –   My   father   was  
Eirenaios,   o   stranger,   and   my   name   Ariston,   fatherland   of   us   both   the   Ionian-­‐born  
Ephesus.   I,   who   was   not   ephedros,   was   crowned   thrice   in   pankration   in   Olympia,  
having  raised  dust  against  competitors.    
 
I  am  heralded  in  the  whole  of  Asia;  for  I  am  Ariston,  the  one  who  was  crowned  with  a  
wild-­‐olive  wreath  in  pankration,  whom  Hellas  calls  perfect,  for  that  I  brought  men’s  
honour   with   my   hands,   even   though   I   was   still   in   the   bloom   of   youth.   For   I   got   the  
wreath,   not   with   luck   of   kleros,   but   without   a   bye,   and,   apart   from   Alpheius,   Zeus  
also  greeted  me.  I  alone  of  seven  boys  did  not  stop  from  fights,  but  always  paired,  I  
won   them   all.   Thus   I   give   honour   to   my   father   Eirenaios,   and   for   my   fatherland  
Ephesus,  with  the  immortal  garlands.    
(Poem)  of  Tiberius  Claudius  Thessalos  from  Cos,  victor  in  many  contests.  
 

The  speakers  in  this  epigram  are  the  passerby  and  the  honorand.  The  epigram  begins  
with  a  virtual  vocative  addressing  the  honorand,  οὗτος,  repeated  at  the  beginning  of  

  70  
the  second  verse.  The  question  turn  is  four  verses  long,  but  the  interrogatives  do  not  
occur  before  line  3.  The  first  two  are  accompanied  by  an  imperative:  -­‐-­‐-­‐τίς  πόθεν  εἶ;  
τίνος;  εἰπέ.  The  passerby  directs  the  speech  to  the  honorand,  as  the  second  person  
singular  εἶ  and  the  vocative  show.  After  this,  a  further  question  follows  at  the  end  of  
the  turn  (ll.  8–9):  τίνων  ἐπινείκια  μόχθων  /  αὐχήσας  ἔστης  Ζηνὸς  ὑπὸ  προδόμοις;    
The   questions   are   not   answered   in   the   same   order   as   the   interrogatives.   In  
the   question   turn,   the   passerby   asks   who   and   from   what   country   are   you?   Whose  
son?,  but  in  the  reply,  the  honorand  begins  by  telling  the  name  of  his  father,  then  his  
own   name   and   his   homeland:   Εἰρηναῖος   ἐμοὶ   γενέτης,   ξένε,   τοὔνομ᾽   Ἀρίστων,   /  
πατρὶς   Ἰωνογενὴς   ἀμφοτέρων   Ἔφεσος-­‐-­‐-­‐.   The   following   two   verses   answer   the   last  
question,   i.e.   what   he   did   he   do   to   deserve   a   monument   in   Olympia.   He   was  
crowned   as   a   winner   in   pankration   three   times:   -­‐-­‐-­‐πανκρατίῳ   παῖς/  τρ̣ι̣σσὰ   κατ᾽  
ἀντιπάλων  ἆθλα  κονεισάμενος.    
The   rest   of   the   text   (ll.   14   ff.)   is   about   Ariston’s   victorious   career.   This   text  
unit  is  not  cut  on  the  same  side  as  ll.  6–13,  and  both  the  placement  and  the  fact  that  
these  lines  are  in  first  person  only  suggest  that  this  is  a  parallel  epigram  and  not  an  
end  of  an  epigram  that  started  as  a  dialogue  (ll.  1–13).  
Τhere  is  a  signature  under  the  epigram;  this  is  the  name  of  the  author  of  the  
text  (a  victorius  poet)  and  not  the  sculptor.206  
The   following   epigram   contains   another   variation   of   the   question–answer  
structure:207    
 

10.       Μηνόδωρε  Ἀπολλω-­‐  

νίου,    χαῖρε.  
φράζε  τεὴν  πάτρην,  τεὸν  οὔνομα  καὶ  μόρον  αὔδα,  
καὶ  ποσέτης,  λίπεις  δ᾽  εἴ  τι  παρ᾽  ἁμερίοις.  
           5     —  πατρὶς  ἁλιστέφανός  με  γοναῖς  ἔσπιρε  Σινώπη,  
οὔνομα  δ᾽  οἰχομένου  Μηνεόδωρος  ἔφυ·∙  
πολλὰ  δὲ  δυσμενέων  ἔναρα  βροτόεντα  δαΐξας  
κεῖμαι  δουριτυπὴς  ἐν  χθονὶ  Βοσπορίδι·∙  
                                                                                                                         
206
 Dittenberger  1878,  91.  
207 st  
 GVI  1869,  1 century  CE,  Pantikapaion,  Crimea.  

  71  
 ἓξ  δεκάδας  λυκάβας  κεκορώνικε,  τέκνα  δὲ  λίπω  
         10     καὶ  τὴν  ἐν  λέκτροις  στεργομένην  γαμέτιν.    
—  εὐσεβέων  ναίοις  ἱερὸν  δόμον·∙  ἦσθα  γὰρ  ἀεὶ  
καὶ  φθίμενος  καὶ  ζῶν  πᾶσι  ποθεινότατος.  
 

Menodoros,  son  of  Apollonios,  greetings.  

Tell  your  fatherland,  your  name,  and  tell  about  your  death,  and  how  old  (were  you),  
and   if   you   leave   something   for   (us)   who   last   but   a   day.   —   Sea-­‐crowned   fatherland  
Sinope  begot  me  as  an  offspring;  the  name  of  the  one  who  is  gone  was  Menodoros.  
After   tearing   many   gory   spoils   of   the   enemies,   I   lie   here   struck   by   a   spear   in   the   land  
of   Bosporus.   The   path   of   my   life   has   completed   six   decades,   and   I   leave   children,   and  
in   a   conjugal   bed,   my   beloved   wife.   —   May   you   dwell   in   the   sacred   house   of   the  
blessed.   You   were   always   very   much   longed   for   by   everyone,   both   when   gone   and  
when  alive.  
 
 
The  speakers  are  the  passerby  and  the  deceased.  There  is  a  greeting  to  the  deceased  
above  the  epigram,  thus  the  name  of  the  deceased  is  given  in  the  title,  but  it  is  asked  
for   again   in   the   epigram.   Instead   of   building   the   questions   with   interrogatives,   the  
composer   of   this   epigram   used   imperatives.   φράζε   and   αὔδα   are   used   with  
accusative  objects:  φράζε  τεὴν  πάτρην  instead  of  τίς  πατρίς  or  πόθεν,  and,  likewise,  
τεὸν   οὔνομα   καὶ   μόρον   αὔδα   καὶ   ποσέτης,   λίπεις   δ᾽   εἴ   τι   παρ᾽   ἁμερίοις   instead   of  
e.g.  τίς;  and  τέκνα  /  παῖδα  ἔλιπες;    
Some   of   the   words   that   occurred   in   the   first   turn   are   repeated   at   the  
beginning  of  the  second  turn:    
1.  turn:  φράζε  τεὴν  πάτρην  -­‐>  2.  turn:  πατρὶς  ἁλιστέφανος-­‐-­‐-­‐  Σινώπη  
1.  turn:  τεὸν  οὔνομα  καὶ  μόρον  αὔδα  -­‐>  2.  turn:  οὔνομα-­‐-­‐-­‐  Μηνεόδωρος-­‐-­‐-­‐.  
The   question   turn   initiates   a   descriptive   reply   turn   that   is   six   verses   long.   The  
deceased   mentions   that   he   had   children   (a   question   which   was   asked   in   the   first  
turn).   References   to   children   are   more   common   on   women’s   grave   monuments,  
where   the   number   of   the   children   is   often   told,   but   in   the   case   of   Menodoros,   he  
simply  states  that  he  had  children:  τέκνα  δὲ  λίπω.    

  72  
 There  is  a  third  turn  at  the  end  of  the  epigram  (from  εὐσεβέων  onwards).  The  
speaker   in   the   last   turn   is   the   passerby   again,   who   wishes   the   deceased   well   and  
states  that  he  will  be  missed.  
 

3.1.2.  Greeting  pairs  

In   type   1,   a   funerary   epigram   may   also   consist   of   a   greeting   pair.208  The   following  
two  epigrams  contain  the  greeting  in  the  opening  turn,  and  nothing  else:  

 
11.      χαῖρε,  Διομήδη  Συμβρίτιε.  —  χαίρετε  πάντες.  
 
Diomedes  from  Symbros,  greetings.  —  Greetings  to  all.  209  
 

12.     χαίρετε.  —  Εὐφρο|σύνη  καλοού|νομε,  χαῖρε  πρόμ|οιρε·∙    

  σὸν  γαμέ|την  Καλόπου[ν  |  ἐ]νκατέλειψες  |  [ἄχει].    
 

Greetings.   —   Greetings   to   you,   Euphrosyne,   of   beautiful   name,   who   died   untimely;  

you  left  your  spouse  Kalopu[s]  in  [sorrow].210  

 
Example  number  11  is  a  one-­‐verse  epigram  consisting  of  a  simple  greeting  pair.  The  
speakers  are  the  passerby  and  the  deceased.  The  greeting  directed  to  the  deceased  
is  uttered  by  the  passerby  role,  and  instead  of  asking  the  name  of  the  deceased,  s/he  
already  knows  it,  which  is  the  case  in  the  greetings.211  In  the  reply  turn,  the  deceased  
says  greetings  to  all  instead  of  addressing  the  passerby;  so,  is  this  a  dialogue?  Peek  
labels  it  as  such  in  GVI,  and  I  agree:  the  passerby  can  be  thought  to  be  included  in  
‘all’,  as  χαίρετε  πάντες  is  addressed  to  all  persons  who  visit  the  grave,  read  the  verse  
and  hence  participate  in  the  epigram.  The  passerby  who  uttered  the  first  greeting  is  
part  of  πάντες,  so  the  turns  do  form  a  loosely  communicating  pair.    

                                                                                                                         
208
 Or  a  greeting  pair  +  1;  see  three-­‐turn  units  in  Chapter  3.2.4.  
209
IC  II  xvi  27  =  GVI  1852,  Roman  period,  Lappa,  Crete.  cf.  Pfohl  1967,  34.  
210 nd rd
 IG  XII    7,  490  =  GVI  1856,  ca  2 /3    century  CE,  Aigiale,  Amorgos.  Restored  by  Peek.      
211
 According  to  Vestrheim  2010,  65  and  67–9,  these  kinds  of  addresses  are  by  the  ‘nameless  voice’,  
but  I  put  these  voices  under  the  passerby  role.  The  greeting  was  supposed  to  be  read  aloud  by  the  
reader,  and  the  actual  reader  and  the  passerby  role  are  very  close  to  each  other.  

  73  
 In   epigram   number   12,   the   speakers   once   again   are   the   deceased   and   the  
passerby.   The   deceased   greets   all   the   people   in   general,   as   the   second   person   plural  
shows:   χαίρετε.   Therefore,   there   is   no   address   in   the   greeting   turn,   which   is  
exceptional,   and   it   is   unique   in   the   dialogues.   Like   in   number   11,   here   too   the  
passerby   can   be   identified   as   one   of   the   people   to   whom   the   general   greeting   is  
addressed.  In  the  second  turn,  a  passerby  returns  the  deceased’s  greeting,  but  also  
tells   that   the   husband   was   left   in   pain.   If   the   speaker   knows   the   name   of   the  
deceased  and  her  husband,  can  we  still  interpret  the  speaker  as  a  passerby?  Here,  
the   passerby   role   is   close   to   a   relative   role.   The   relative   is   mentioned   in   the   third  
person,  and  the  first  person  is  not  used  at  all,  but  it  is  possible  for  the  relative  to  talk  
about   him-­‐/herself   in   the   third   person.   On   the   other   hand,   as   the   examples   show,  
the   passerby   can   already   ‘know’   the   name   of   the   deceased,   especially   in   greeting  
pairs.  As  we  can  see,  the  roles  are  not  always  unambiguous.  

In  the  following  epigram  from  Mysia,  the  title  lines  and  the  first  greeting  are  
followed  by  two  verses:212  
 
13.     [Ἀ]σκλαπ[ᾶ]  
[Μ]ενάνδ[ρου].  
 
 [Ἀ]σκληπᾶ  Δημ[ητρίου]  
[χ]αῖρε·∙    —  καὶ  σ[ύ]  γε  ὦ  [παροδεῖτα]  
[χ]αρῇς  ὅτι  τοῦ[το  τὸ  σεμνὸν]213  
[εἶπ]ε̣ς  ἐμοὶ  ‘χαίρειν’  [εἵνεκεν]  
[εὐ]σεβίης.  
 

Asklepas,  son  of  Demetrios,  be  greeted.  —  Also  you,  [wanderer,]  be  greeted,  for  you  
[due  to  common  piety]  greeted  me.214  
 

                                                                                                                         
212
 SGO  2,  08/04/05,  ‘late’,  Dascyleion?,  Mysia.  
213
 For  another  option  at  the  end  of  the  line,  see  SGO.  
214 2
 For  similar  phrasing,  see  SGO  2,  08/01/49  and  IG  II/III  12607  =  GVI  1387.  

  74  
Here,   the   speakers   are   the   passerby   and   the   deceased.   The   opening   greeting   is  
simply   the   deceased’s   name   (in   vocative)   followed   by   χαῖρε.   The   response   turn  
begins  with  the  καὶ  σ[ύ]  γε  structure  and  an  address  that  what  heralds  ὦ  (παροδεῖτα  
is  restored).  The  addressee  must  in  this  case  be  the  passerby.  This  is  a  fragmentary  
epigram,   but   the   restoration   is   quite   secure   because   of   the   formulaic   expressions.  
The  second  turn  reveals  again  how  greetings  were  part  of  the  ritual  and  habitually  
uttered   near   the   grave.   According   to   Schmitz,   for   example,   in   an   exhortation   to  
mourn,   the   imperative   may   be   seen   as   a   performative   verb.215  These   invitations   to  
utter  the  greetings  may  be  seen  in  a  similar  light.    
The  following  is  another  example  of  an  opening  greeting  and  response:216  
 
14.     χαῖρε  καλὴ  σώφρων  Κλεαρὼ  
                      φιλότεκνε  φί-­‐  
      λανδρε·∙  —  πᾶσι  
      θεοῖς  θύσασα  
               5     καὶ  πᾶσι  βρο-­‐  
     τοῖς    ἀρέ-­‐  
      σασα  ἰς  μάκαρε-­‐  
      ς  κεῖμαι  εὐσε-­‐  
      βίης  ἕνεκεν,  
           10     μητρὶ  δὲ  καὶ  γεν-­‐  
      έτῃ  πέν[θο]-­‐  
      ς  [ἔδ]ω[κα  βαρύ].  
 

Beautiful   and   sound-­‐minded   Klearo,   loving   your   children,   loving   your   man,   greetings.  
—After  offering  to  all  gods  and  making  good  to  all  mortals,  I  lie  here,  (gone)  among  
the  blessed,  because  of  the  piety.  [I  gave]  my  mother  and  father  heavy  pain  (by  my  
death).  
 
 

                                                                                                                         
215
 Schmitz  2010b,  35.  He  refers  to  CEG  27:  Stop  and  lament  at  the  site  of  the  deceased  Croesus’  tomb-­‐
-­‐-­‐.  
216 nd rd
 IG  V  2,  182  =  GVI  1857,  2 /3  century  CE,  Tegea,  Arcadia.  

  75  
The   deceased   is   greeted   in   the   first   turn:   χαῖρε   καλὴ   σώφρων   Κλεαρὼ   φιλότεκνε  
φίλανδρε.   Who   is   the   speaker   here?   It   could   be   the   passerby,   but   would   s/he   use  
such   epithets   as   φιλότεκνε   and   φίλανδρε?   Or,   is   it   the   relative?   Both   are   possible,  
but  nothing  points  directly  to  either  of  them.217  
Owing  to  of  the  address  used  in  the  first  turn,  and  of  course  the  first  person  
used   in   the   second   turn,   we   know   that   the   speaker   in   the   second   turn   is   the  
deceased.   The   epithets   of   the   deceased,   καλὴ   σώφρων,   are   embedded   in   the  
greeting.   The   commissioners   of   the   stone   are   perhaps   the   parents,   as   they   are  
mentioned   at   the   end   of   the   epigram   (μητρὶ   δὲ   καὶ   γεν/έτῃ   πέν[θο]/ς   [ἔδ]ω[κα  
βαρύ]),   although   it   is   of   course   possible   that   it   is   the   husband,   especially   as   she   is  
also   described   as   φίλανδρε.   Perhaps   the   speaker   in   the   first   turn   is   one   of   the  
relatives?  
  In  the  following  epigram,  the  greeting  situation  is  the  other  way  round:218  
 
15.     πατὴρ  Φιλῖνος,  
Φιλοκράτη  δ’  ἐγείν[ατο],  |  
δᾶμος  δὲ  Τύμν[ος].  
—  χαῖρε  πολλά,  Φιλόκρ[ατες].  
 
Father  (was)  Philinos,    he  be[got]  Philocrates;  demos  was  Tymn[os].  —  Many  
greetings,  Philocrates.    
 

Since  the  name  is  repeated  in  the  epigram,  it  seems  that  the  speaker  changes.  In  the  
first  turn,  facts  about  the  deceased  are  told  in  the  third  person.  In  my  opinion,  the  
speaker   here   is   the   monument.   The   facts   revealed   are   such   details   that   the  
monument  would  tell,  as  we  have  seen  before,  and,  furthermore,  there  are  no  first  
person  singulars,  as  there  would  be  if  the  speaker  was  the  deceased.    

The   second   turn   features   a   greeting   to   the   deceased:   χαῖρε   πολλά,  

Φιλόκρ[ατες.   This   must   be   a   passerby’s   turn   (compare   with,   e.g.,   nos.   11   and   12  
above).   In   this   turn,   the   speech   is   directed   to   the   deceased   and   not   to   the  
                                                                                                                         
217
 Here  the  speaker  role  is  close  to  the  anonymous  mourner  mentioned  in  Chapter  2.  
218 nd
 GVI  1850,  2  century  CE,  Rhodes.  

  76  
monument,  but  as  this  greeting  is  a  response  to  the  turn  before  it,  I  count  this  as  a  
dialogue  epigram.  

In  the  last  example  of  the  greetings,  the  response  to  the  greeting  differs  from  
what  we  have  seen  so  far:219  
 

16.   Δημητρία  χαῖρε.  —  Πῶς  δύνομαι  χαίρειν  προλιποῦσα  φῶς  

  καὶ  γλυκυτάτους  γονῖς  τετραέτην  ζήσασα  χρόνον;  
  καὶ  ἐνθάδε  νέα  οὖσα  πρώτη  τε  ἐγώ  κατοικῶ  
  ἀλλ’  ὑμεῖς  τὸ  γλυκὺ  φῶς  μέχρι  που  τὸ  ἱμαρμένον  ἔλθῃ.  
 

Demetria,  farewell.  —  How  can  I  fare  well,  having  left  the  light  
and  my  dearest  parents  after  living  my  fourth  year?  
And  I  dwell  here,  being  young  and  in  my  early  life,  
but  you  (dwell  in)  the  sweet  light  until  your  fated  day  should  come.    
 
(Translation  by  Rife)  
 
The   speakers   here   are   the   passerby   and   the   deceased. 220  The   greeting   turn  
generates   a   response   that   combines   information   about   the   age   of   the   deceased  
(τετραέτην  ζήσασα  χρόνον)  with  a  lament  for  her  untimely  death  in  the  voice  of  the  
deceased   Demetria   herself.   Hence,   in   this   example,   the   opening   turn   is   a   short  
greeting,  followed  by  a  longer  turn  that  is  not  exactly  a  reply  to  the  greeting,  but  a  
lament   that   is   initiated   by   the   greeting   (and   verb   χαίρειν). 221  To   the   greeting,  
Demetria  replies  Πῶς  δύνομαι  χαίρειν,  because  she  has  died  young.  This  of  course  
reflects   the   sorrow   of   her   parents,   as   is   often   also   the   case   in   the   turns   of   the  

                                                                                                                         
219 nd rd
 Rife  2008,  132  (following  Gritsopoulos),  2 /3  century  CE,  Steiri,  Corinthia.  cf.  SEG  58,  311.  
220
 Or,  according  to  Rife,  the  parents  and  the  deceased.  In  the  previous  examples,  however,  we  saw  
simple  greetings  (name  +  χαῖρε)  that  are  replied  to  with  ‘to  you  too,  passerby’,  and  as  there  is  nothing  
specific  to  identify  the  speaker  as  a  relative  –  it  can  also  be  the  passerby.  This  case,  however,  shows  
once  again  how,  especially  in  the  greetings,  the  speaker  roles  can  be  wavering.  
221
 Other  t1  greetings:  GVI  1854  (fragmentary;  the  first  turn  is  missing,  but  as  the  preserved  part  is  
clearly  a  reply  [καὶ  σύ  γε  ὦ  παροδεῖτα,  χάροις-­‐-­‐-­‐],  this  must  be  a  greeting  pair);  SGO  2,  08/01/44  =  GVI  
2  
1855  (no.  15  in  Chapter  2);  SGO  2,  08/01/49;  IG  II/III 12607  =  GVI  1387;  SGO  2,  08/04/98  
(fragmentary;  again,  only  the  reply  turn  remains,  and  even  this  is  fragmentary,  but  the  greeting  is  
 
certain),  SGO  4,  18/01/24,  SGO  2,  09/04/06,  SGO  1,  01/12/20  and  SGO  1,  04/24/16.

  77  
deceased.   The   last   verse   (ἀλλ’   ὑμεῖς   τὸ   γλυκὺ   φῶς   μέχρι   που   τὸ   ἱμαρμένον   ἔλθῃ)  
urges  the  reader,  even  if  indirectly,  to  enjoy  life  for  as  long  as  it  lasts.  

3.1.3.  Statement–response  pairs    

The   vast   majority   of   type-­‐1   epigrams   are   composed   of   the   structures   discussed  
above,  but  there  are  also  some  statement–response  pairs.  The  same  elements  that  
are  examined  above  are  used  in  statement–response  pairs,  for  example  the  address.  
In  the  following  example,  the  address  occurs  in  the  response  turn:222  

17.    [μν]η[μ]εῖον.  
ὃν  Μο[ῖ]ρ᾽  ὠκυκέ-­‐  
λευθ[ο]ν  ἀπήγα-­‐  
γεν  εἰς  [Ἀΐ]δαο,  |  
               5     Μαρκελλ[εῖ]νος  ἐγὼ  
τῷδ᾽  ὑπό[κειμε  λίθ]ῳ·∙  |  
Ἰουλιανός  με  [πατὴρ]  
θάπτει  μόν[ον  υἱὸν  ἐ]-­‐  
όντα,  |  ἑξηκον[τούτης]  
           10     εἰκοσιπεν[ταέτη].  |  
  —  θάρσι,  Μαρκελλεῖν[ε],  καὶ  εἰ[ς  αἰῶν᾽  εὐμοίρει]·∙  |  
    πολλοί  σου  πρότεροι  κάθθανον  ἠΐθεο[ι].  |  
                   Φίλος  ὑπέγραψε.  
 
[Mo]nu[m]ent.  
I,   Marcellinus,   whom   Moira   led   away   to   [Ha]des,   completing   life’s   journey   too  
quickly,  lie  under  this  stone.  [My  father]  Iulianos,  60  [years  old],  buried  me,  his  on[ly],  
25-­‐[year-­‐old],  [son].  —  Be  brave,  Marcellinus,  and  [have  good  fortune  for  ever];  many  
youngsters  have  died  before  you.  
Philos  sketched  this.  

                                                                                                                         
222 rd th
 SEG  7,  329;  SGO  4,  20/16/02  =  GVI  1878.  SEG  and  Peek  give  3 /4  century  CE  for  the  date,  SGO  
simply  Kaiserzeit.  Caesarea  Philippi.  I  follow  the  edition  printed  in  SEG.    

  78  
  

Here,   the   deceased   begins   the   epigram.   He   states   his   name   (Μαρκελλ[εῖ]νος   ἐγὼ),  
his  father’s  name,  both  of  their  ages  and  that  he  died  prematurely.  He  also  explains  
that   his   father   Ioulianos   buried   him   –   πατὴρ   is   restored,   but   very   likely.   At   the  
beginning   of   the   second   turn,   the   deceased   is   addressed   with   a   vocative   and   an  
imperative:  θάρσι,   Μαρκελλεῖν[ε]-­‐-­‐-­‐.   Who  is   the   speaker   in   this   turn?   It   could   be   the  
passerby   (cf.   the   greetings   in   the   previous   examples),   but,   on   the   other   hand,   the  
consoling   aspect   could   refer   to   a   parent   who   encourages   his/her   son.   Then   again,  
the  deceased  does  not  address  his  father  who  dedicated  the  stone,  but  rather  talks  
about   him   in   the   third   person   singular   (Ἰουλιανός   με   [πατὴρ]   /   θάπτει   μόν[ον   υἱὸν  
ἐ]/όντα).   It   seems   more   probable   that   the   speaker   is   the   passerby,   as   SGO   also  
suggests,  and  the  previous  examples  in  this  chapter  support  this  view.223    
The   deceased   says   he   is   ὠκυκέ/λευθ[ο]ς,   and   in   the   second   turn,   he   is  
exhorted   to   be   brave   (and   to   have   good   fortune),   even   though   he   died   prematurely:  
καὶ  εἰ[ς  αἰῶν᾽  ἐυμοίρει].  This  is  badly  fragmented,  but  we  can  be  certain  that  the  end  
of   the   epigram   states   πολλοί   σου   πρότεροι   κάθθανον   ἠΐθεο[ι],   so   the   restoration  
would   fit   in   with   the   idea   of   the   preceding   sentence.   Note   also   the   signature   line  
under  the  epigram:  Φίλος  ὑπέγραψε,  Philοs  (or:  a  friend)  sketched  this.224  
In   another   type-­‐1   statement–response   pair,   the   deceased   is   addressed   in   the  
second  person  at  the  beginning  of  the  epigram:225  
 

18.       Τηλέμαχος  
Σπουδοκράτος  
Φλυεύς.  
                 vac.  
ὦ  τὸν  ἀειμνήστου  σ᾽  ἀρετᾶς  παρὰ  πᾶσι  πολίταις  
5     κλεινὸν  ἔπαινον  ἔχοντ᾽  ἄνδρα  ποθεινότατον  
παισὶ  φίλει  τε  γυναικί·∙  —  τάφο  δ᾽  ἐπὶ  δεξιά,  μῆτερ,  
κεῖμαι  σῆς  φιλίας  οὐκ  ἀπολειπόμενος.  

                                                                                                                         
223
 But  the  speaker  could  also  be,  e.g.,  the  father  or  the  mother  of  the  deceased.  
224
 cf.  no.  12  in  Chapter  4.  
225 2  
 IG  II/III 7711  =  GVI  1386  =  GG  86  =  CEG  512,  390–365  BCE,  Piraeus.  CEG  512.  

  79  
                                      vac.  
Ἱερόκλεια  
Ὀψιάδου  
10       ἐξ  Οἴου.  
 

Telemachus,  son  of  Spudocrates  from  Phlya.    

O  you,  who  have  the  famous  praise  of  virtue  ever  to  be  remembered  among  all  the  
citizens,  you  (who  are)  a  man  eagerly  longed  for  by  (your)  children  and  by  (your)  dear  
wife.    
—  I  lie  right  of  your  grave,  mother,  not  without  your  love.  
Hierocleia,  daughter  of  Opsiades  from  Oios.  
 

The  speakers   are   the   passerby   and   the  deceased.  The   name   of  the   deceased   is   given  
in   the   prose   title.   The   epigram   thus   begins   with   ὦ   τὸν…σ᾽…   ἔπαινον   ἔχοντ᾽   ἄνδρα.  
The   passerby   does   not   directly   ask   the   name   of,   or   address,   the   deceased.   In   this  
turn,  the  deceased  is  described  in  a  praiseful  manner,  but  information  is  still  given:  
ποθεινότατον  παισὶ  φίλει  τε  γυναικί  reveals  that  he  has  a  wife  and  children  who  long  
for  him.  When  the  deceased  speaks  in  the  second  turn,  he  does  not  direct  his  speech  
to   the   passerby,   but   to   his   mother,   who   is   also   dead:   τάφο   δ᾽   ἐπὶ   δεξιά,   μῆτερ,  
κεῖμαι-­‐-­‐-­‐.226  Both  the  particle  δ᾽  and  the  address  μῆτερ  help  to  indicate  the  change.  
Once  again,  the  passerby  addresses  the  deceased,  but  the  deceased  does  not  
answer   the   passerby;   instead   of   replying,   he   speaks   to   a   third   person,   his   mother.  
The   mother   here   is   an   addressee   without   a   voice   (or   turn)   in   the   epigram.   The  
direction  of  the  speech  in  the  first  turn  is  passerby  -­‐>  deceased,  and  in  the  second  
turn,  deceased  -­‐>  relative.  The  first  turn  seems  to  initiate  the  second:  the  deceased  
probably  would  not  address  his  (also  dead)  mother  if  he  was  not  addressed  first,  so  
we  can  still  detect  a  loose  pragmatic  connection  here.  
The  following  epigram  begins  with  an  imperative  and  an  address:227  

                                                                                                                         
226
 Hierocleia,  whose  name  is  written  under  the  epigram,  is  the  widow.  The  epitaphs  of  Telemachus’  
parents  were  also  found  in  Piraeus.  Michel  1927,  180.  
227 nd rd
 SGO  4,  20/02/01  =  GVI  1877.  SGO  gives  Kaiserzeit;  Peek  dates  this  to  2 /3  century  CE,  giving  
Marathus,  Syria  as  the  provenience.  Also  Garulli  2014,  80–2.  

  80  
19.     εὐθύμει,  Τρυφέρα·∙  τὰ  δεδογμένα  σαῖσι  γραφαῖσι  
πάντ᾽  ἐπόησα  Φίλων  γαμέτης  ὁ  σός,  ὦ  μακαρεῖτι.  
—  ὁρκίζω  σε  μάκαρ,  τὸν  Πλουτέα  καὶ  νεκύων  γῆν,  
ὦ  φίλε,  μή  μου  θιγεῖν·∙  οὐ  γὰρ  κεῖμαι  πολύολβος·∙  
             5        τὰς  δὲ  γραφὰς  ἀνάγνωθι  καὶ  εἴσῃ,  πῶς  μετάκειμαι.  
 

Be  of  good  cheer,  Tryphera;  all  that  you  ordered  in  your  testament,  o  blessed  one,  I,  
your  husband  Philon,  have  made.  

—  I  adjure  you,  o  blessed  one,  by  Pluto  and  by  the  land  of  the  dead,  o  dear  (stranger),  
do  not  touch  me,  for  I  do  not  lie  rich  in  blessings.  Read  the  writings  and  you  will  learn  
how  I  am  put  in  a  new  bed.  

The   epigram   opens   with   an   address   to   the   deceased:   εὐθύμει,   Τρυφέρα.   The  
speaker  here  is  not  completely  clear  –  is  it  a  passerby  or  a  relative?  If  it  is  a  passerby,  
should   s/he   not   ask   the   name   first?   Not   necessarily,   as   we   have   seen   in   other  
examples   in   this   chapter.   The   rest   of   the   turn,   however,   makes   it   clear   that   the  
speaker   is   a   relative   and   not   a   passerby:   πάντ᾽   ἐπόησα   Φίλων,   γαμέτης   ὁ   σός-­‐-­‐-­‐.   The  
relative  talks  about  himself  in  the  first  person,  and  this  makes  it  very  probable  that  
the  first  two  words  are  also  by  the  husband.    

  In   the   second   turn,   however,   the   deceased   addresses   the   passersby  

generally.   The   direction   of   the   speech   is   once   again   not   to   the   previous   speaker,   but  
to   someone   outside   the   epigram.   The   deceased   refers   to   writings,   τὰς   δὲ   γραφὰς,  
but  are  they  the  same  writings  mentioned  in  the  husband’s  comment  (τὰ  δεδογμένα  
σαῖσι   γραφαῖσιν)?   That   seems   unlikely   –   the   husband   refers   to   her   testament,   but  
here,  she  probably  means  writing  on  the  monument.228    

  She   also   forbids   the   touching   of   her   grave,   which   of   course   is   a   warning   to   all  
the   passersby,   found   in   other   grave   markers   as   well,   and   is   not   directed   to   her  
husband.  Overall,  Tryphera  does  not  communicate  with  her  husband  per  se,  but  he  
does  address  her  in  the  first  turn,  and  her  turn  is  a  logical  continuation  of  the  first  

                                                                                                                         
228
 See  also  Seyrig  1951,  223  for  the  same  conclusion.  

  81  
turn,   like   in   the   previous   example.229  Yet   the   turn   of   Tryphera   remains   somewhat  
mysterious   –   why   ὁρκίζω   σε   μάκαρ,   if   the   addressee   is   the   (random)   passerby?  
Garulli   translates   this   Ti   scongiuro,   mio   adorato,   but   it   would   be   equally   odd   to  
direct  these  words  to  the  husband.  However  we  choose  to  interpret  the  second  turn,  
Garulli   states   that   dialogue   form   here   emphasizes   the   connection   between   the  
deceased  and  her  spouse.230  

3.2  X  –  Y  and  its  variants    

As  seen  above,  many  of  the  type-­‐1  epigrams  share  common  features.  However,  on  
the   level   of   the   turn   structure,   they   can   be   divided   into   four   different   subcategories.  
They  differ  from  each  other  in  the  length  of  the  turns  and  in  their  combinations.  The  
four  variants  are:  

1) Two  short  turns  

2) A  short  question  turn  producing  a  longer  answer  turn  
3) Two  longer  turns  
4) Three-­‐turn  units  (t1  +  1  or  1  +  t1)  

I  will  give  examples  of  each  variant  and  discuss  them  briefly.231  

3.2.1  Two  short  turns    

In  the  first  variant,  the  pairs  are  either  short  greetings  (a  greeting  pair)  or  a  question  
and   answer   turn   wherein   they   are   no   longer   than   one   verse   each.   We   had   examples  
of   the   short   greeting   pairs   in   the   previous   chapter;   the   following   is   a   question–
answer  pair:232  

                                                                                                                         
229
 The  following  are  also  S–R  pairs:  GVI  1876;  IG  XIV  1514a  =  GVI  1886;  SGO  4,  17/09/01;  GVI  1885;  
GVI  1837  (if  following  Peek;  cf.  Robinson  1905,  319–22  for  monologue  interpretation).  
230
 Garulli  2014,  82.  
231
 All  of  the  t1  epigrams  are  given  according  to  their  variant  in  a  table  at  the  end  of  subchapter  3.4.  
232 2
 GVI  1841,  cf.  IG  II/III  11606a  (p.  887),  Athens.  I  give  the  edition  according  to  Peek,  which  in  my  
rd nd
opinion  is  more  plausible.  Peek  dates  it  to  the  3  century  or  later,  Sironen  2  century  CE.  Oliver  gives  
Peek’s  edition  and  states  that,  ‘with  this  arrangement  the  epitaph  consists  of  two  senarii,  the  second  

  82  
  
20.       οἰκῖ  τίς  ὧδε;  |  —  Ἡράκλιος  |  ὑδροπότης,  |  
ζῶν  τῶν  φί<λων>  |  φλο̑ς,  δουκά|τορ,  θανὼν  |  οὐδείς.  
 

Who  lives  here?  —  Heraclius,  the  water-­‐drinker,  who  when  living  was  the  bloom  of  
his  friends,  a  captain,  and  (now)  when  dead,  nobody.  

In   this   epigram,   both   the   content   and   the   dialogue/non-­‐dialogue   form   depend   on  
the  interpretation.  If  we  read  οἰκῖ  τίς  ὧδε,  as  Peek  does,  the  words  form  a  question  
turn  by  the  passerby:  who  (lives)  in  this  house?  If  this  interpretation  is  correct,  the  
answer   turn   then   starts   with   Heraclius…,   and   the   speaker   here   is   the   monument.  
Another  possible  reading,  however,  is  οἰκιτὶς,  as  given  in  IG.  In  this  case,  the  epigram  
would  be  a  monologue  that  states:  inhabitant  here  is  Heraclius,  the  water-­‐drinker....  I  
examined   the   stone   myself   in   Athens,   but   the   letters   are   the   same   in   both   cases:  
ΟΙΚΙΤΙΣΩΔΕ  can  be  analysed  either  as  οἰκῖ  τίς   or  οἰκιτὶς,  so  autopsy  does  not  help  this  
time.  Both  interpretations  are  possible,  but  Tod  points  out  the  difficulties  in  reading  
οἰκιτὶς.233  Tod  gives  οἰκῖ  τις  ὧδε  |  Ἡράκλιος-­‐-­‐-­‐  with  the  translation  Here  dwells  one  
Heraclius  instead  of  reading  τίς  (which  would  make  this  a  question).234  According  to  
Tod,   οἰκῖ   τίς   is   also   possible,   but   less   likely.   However,   on   the   basis   of   the   question  
structures   we   know   from   type   1,   οἰκῖ   τίς,   in   my   opinion,   is   indeed   more   probable.  235  
Thus,   we   also   avoid   the   indefinite   τις,   which,   as   Tod   also   mentions,   is   very   rare   in  
epitaphs.  

The   following   epigram   from   Iconion,   Lycaonia   is   a   more   unambiguous  

example  of  the  first  variant  of  type  1:236      

 
 
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           
stichus  certainly  a  senarius,  the  first  also  if  one  lengthens  the  last  syllable  of  the  name’.    cf.  Oliver  
1981,  219  with  note  11.  According  to  Oliver,  217–21,  Heraclius  was  a  philosopher.  
233
 Tod  1951,  20–1.  He  concludes:  ‘…  ὧδε  requires  a  finite  verb,  and  none  such  occurs  here.  That,  
φλο̑ς  =  flos  I  cannot  believe,  and  neither  explanation  suggested  for  the  enigmatic  φι  of  l.  4  strikes  me  
as  at  all  probable’  (p.  21),  with  which  I  agree.  
234
 Threatte  1980,  170  also  favours  Tod’s  reading  instead  of  οἰκιτὶς.  
235
 Oliver  1981,  217–21  also  gives  this.  
236 nd
 SGO  3,  14/07/02  =  GVI  1835,  2  century  CE.  A  short  passage  of  this  epigram  was  discussed  in  
Chapter  2  (no.  6).    

  83  
21.         χαίρετε  πάντες.  
λάρναξ  αὐδήεσσα,  τί  τ[ῷδ᾽]  ὑπὸ  σήματι  κεύθεις;  |  
—  ἀνδράποδον  Θαλάμου  |  τοῦ  ποτε  μουσοπόλο[υ].  
 

Greetings  to  all.  

Urn   with   a   voice,   what   do   you   cover   under   this   grave   marker?   —   A   slave   of  
Thalamus,  who  once  was  the  servant  of  the  Muses.  

The  speakers  in  this  epigram  are  the  passerby  and  the  monument  (the  urn).237  The  
master  of  the  deceased  slave,  Thalamus,  is  said  to  be  a  servant  of  the  Muses  himself  
(i.e.  a  poet),  so  perhaps  he  (the  master)  wrote  the  epigram.238  The  prose  text  below  
the  epigram  may  also  point  to  this  possibility.  It  states  that  Thalamos  made  this  for  
himself  and  his  wife  Theodora-­‐-­‐-­‐:  
αὐτὸς  Θάλαμος  ἑαυτῷ  
καὶ  τῇ  συμβίῳ  αὐτοῦ  Θεο-­‐  
δώρᾳ.  ἐὰν  δέ  τις  ἐπεισβι-­‐  
άσηται,  δώσει  τῷ  ταμείῳ  vacat  
The  rest  of  the  text  is  as  follows:  if  someone  else  buries  here  by  force,  must  he  pay  
for  the  fiscus.  It  is  interesting  that  the  epigram  is  for  the  slave;  for  Thalamus  himself  
and   his   wife,   even   though   he   was   a   servant   of   the   Muses,   a   short   prose   note   is  
sufficient.   The   name   of   the   slave   is   not   mentioned,   but   Thalamus   himself   figures  
both  in  the  prose  and  in  the  verse.  According  to  SGO,  the  prose  section  for  Thalamus  
and   his   wife   was   cut   later   –   it   seems   that   Thalamus   did   not   compose   an   epigram   for  
himself.  
There   is  also   one   line   above   the   epigram,   which   simply   states:   χαίρετε  
πάντες.  I  stated  when  discussing  example  11  (this  chapter)  that  this  ‘all’  could  refer  
to  both  the  audience  and  the  inner  actors  of  the  epigram.  Yet,  who  says  it  here,  i.e.  
whose  turn  is  it?  In  this  case,  perhaps  the  speaker  is  the  monument  rather  than  the  

                                                                                                                         
237
 About  the  speakers,  see  no.  6  in  Chapter  2.  
238
 Das  Distichon  stammt  gewiss  von  ihm  selbst  in  SGO,  and  I  agree.  The  poet  Thalamus  is  otherwise  
unknown;  see  Calder  1912,  68.  

  84  
deceased,  as  the  deceased,  unlike  the  monument,  does  not  have  any  other  lines  in  
this  epitaph.239  
 

3.2.2  One  short  turn  and  one  longer  turn    

The   second   variant   of   type   1   also   consists   of   an   adjacency   pair,   but   in   this   variant,  
the   turns   are   of   unequal   length.   For   example,   if   the   epigram   is   a   question–answer  
pair,   there   are   either   one   or   several   short   questions   in   the   first   turn,   and   the   answer  
turn   typically   replies   to   the   question(s)   asked,   but   it   also   provides   some   extra  
information  after  that,  as  in  the  following  epigram:240  
 
 22.      Ἑκαταῖος  Ἑκαταίου  
                                    χαῖρε.  
τίς  κατὰ  γᾶς;  —  Ἑκαταίου  ὁμώνυμος  ὦ  ξένε  πατρί  
      οὔπω  ἐφειβήην  θηκάμενος  χλαμύδα,  
           5     τῶι  σοφία  μεμέλητο  καὶ  εὐμόχθ<ω>ν  ἀπ᾽  ἀγώνων  
      νίκη  καὶ  γλυκεροὶ  Πϊερίδων  κάματο[ι]·∙  
ὀκτωκαιδεχέτης  δ᾽  ἔλιπεν  φάος·∙  ἁ  γὰρ  ἄδεκ̣[τος]  
    Μοῖρα  που  μερόπων  ἁνιόχευσε  βίους.    
 

Hecataeus,  son  of  Hecataeus,  greetings.  

Who  (is)  under  the  ground?  —  O  stranger,  he  carried  the  same  name  as  his  father,  
Hecataeus;   he   had   not   taken   off   the   ephebe’s   mantel   yet;   he   was   interested   in  
wisdom  and  in  victory  in  competition  of  laborious  efforts,  and  in  sweet  labours  of  the  
Muses.  As  an  18-­‐year-­‐old,  he  left  the  light  of  day.  The  cr[uel]  Moira  steers  the  life’s  
course  of  the  humans.  
 

This  epigram  has  been  edited  and  translated  as  a  monologue.241  If  we  read  it  as  such,  
the  monument  voice  first  presents  a  question  that  it  then  answers  itself,  but  on  the  
basis   of   the   question   structures   presented   in   the   previous   subchapters,   I   would  
                                                                                                                         
239
 Title  line;  speaker  unidentified,  but  could  be  seen  as  part  of  the  monument’s  talk.  
240
 SGO  2,  09/07/09,  Hellenistic  period  (given  in  SGO  and  also  by  Asgari  and  Firatlı  1978),  Calchedon,  
Bithynia.  
241
 Asgari  and  Firatlı  1978,  63–5  and  SGO.  At  least  there  are  no  notations  of  the  speaker  change  
marked,  not  even  in  the  translation.  Line  7  restoration  is  by  Bousquet.  

  85  
rather  interpret  this  as  a  dialogue.  There  is  a  question  in  the  first  turn  and  an  address  
to   ξένε   in   the   reply.   As   noted   above,   such   a   question   alone   is   sufficient   to   imply   that  
it  is  uttered  by  the  passerby  voice,  and  since  we  have  the  address  as  well,  I  find  it  
clear   that   the   speaker   changes.   The   speakers   are   thus   the   passerby   and   the  
monument.   Despite   the   fact   that   the   title   reveals   the   name   of   the   deceased  
(Hecataeus)  and  his  father  (also  Hecataeus),  the  name  of  the  deceased  is  asked  for  
again  in  the  first  turn  of  the  epigram:  τίς  κατὰ  γᾶς;  That  is  all  that  the  passerby  says.    
The  answer  turn  is  significantly  longer.  It  begins  with  the  name,  or  actually  by  
indicating  that  the  deceased  had  the  same  name  as  his  father  Hecataeus  (Ἑκαταίου  
ὁμώνυμος  ὦ  ξένε  πατρί),  so  the  change  is  evident.  Note  also  the  address  in  the  first  
sentence  of  the  response:  the  passerby  is  here  addressed  as  ξένε.  After  identifying  
the   deceased,   the   monument   concentrates   on   describing   him,   so   the   three-­‐words-­‐
long  question  turn  produces  a  reply  that  is  altogether  five  and  a  half  verses  long.  As  
we  can  see,  a  simple  question  (who  buried  the  deceased?  who  lies  here?  etc.)  can  
produce  an  answer  turn  that  offers  further  details  and  praises  the  deceased.  This  is  a  
common  pattern  in  the  type-­‐1  epigrams,  perhaps  against  the  Gricean  maxims.242  The  
short  question  presented  by  the  passerby  initiates  and  ‘justifies’  all  the  information  
that  needs  to  be  given  in  the  epigram.    
There   is   a   relief   of   a   young   man   on   the   stele.   He   wears   a   himation   (οὔπω  
ἐφειβήην  θηκάμενος  χλαμύδα)  and  holds  two  spears  in  his  right  hand.  To  his  right,  
there   is   a   herm,   a   servant,   an   amphora   and   a   palm-­‐branch,   all   symbols   of   his   life,  
which   the   epigram   depicts   as   follows:   τῶι   σοφία   μεμέλητο   καὶ   εὐμόχθ<ω>ν   ἀπ’  
ἀγώνων  /  νίκη  καὶ  γλυκεροὶ  Πιερίδων  κάματο[ι].  
In   the   following   epigram   from   Athens,   a   verse-­‐long   question   opens   the  
inscription:  243  
 
23.   στήλη,  τίς  σ᾽  ἔστησεν  ἀριπρεπέως  ἐσορᾶσθαι;    
—  μήτηρ  |  Τειμοκράτους,  ἵν᾽  ἔχῃ  παραμύθιον  αὑτῇ,    

                                                                                                                         
242
 Maxim  of  quantity:  give  as  much  information  as  needed,  and  no  more.  
243 st nd 2
 Athens,  1  or  2  century  CE.  cf.  IG  II/III  12794,  which  Peek  GVI  1836  follows.  IG  dates  it  to  the  end  
nd
of  the  2  century  CE.  I  have  read  the  stone  in  Athens  in  the  National  Museum;  the  epigram  is  well  
preserved  and  easy  to  read.  Note  that  the  stone  cutter  forgot  πε  in  ἀριπρεπέως  and  cut  it  above  the  
word  in  smaller  letters.  cf.  Peek  1931,  119  and  Brinkmann  1911,  149–55.  

  86  
 μνήσκε|σθαι  ζῶσα  ἑοῦ  τέκνοιο  πρόσωπον,    
ἐνκεχαρα|γμένον  οὔνομα  ἠδ᾽ἐτέων  ἀριθμόν.  
εἶχε  γὰρ|  εἰκοστόν  τε  καὶ  ἔνατον  ὀρθογραφῶν  τὸ  πάρος  folium  
 

Stele,   who   erected   you,   splendid   for   our   eyes?   —   Mother   of   Timocrates   (did),   for  
consolation   to   herself,   so   that   she   would   remember   her   child’s   face   as   long   as   she  
lives,  (and)  the  name  and  the  number  of  the  years  engraved  upon  the  stone.  Well,  he  
was  29,  and  he  was  previously  an  orthographos.  

 
The   speakers   here   are   the   passerby   and   the   monument   (stele).   The   first   verse   forms  
the  question  turn,  and  the  stele  is  addressed  at  the  outset.  The  answer  turn  is  four  
verses  long.  The  passerby  asks  who  erected  the  stone,  and  the  monument  replies.  By  
saying  μήτηρ  Τειμοκράτους,  the  monument  also  reveals  the  name  of  the  deceased.  
After  that,  it  also  tells  the  reason  why,  using  ἵν᾽  ἔχῃ-­‐-­‐-­‐  (for  [that  she  would  have]…).  
Furthermore,  the  monument  tells  the  age  and  the  occupation  of  the  deceased.  The  
beauty   of   the   monument   is   referred   to   in   the   question   turn   –   it   is   ἀριπρεπέως  
ἐσορᾶσθαι.   Τhere   is   a   relief   below   the   text   depicting   a   man   who   holds   writing  
instruments  (a  reference  to  his  occupation).  There  are  scrolls  to  his  right-­‐hand  side,  
and   to   the   left,   an   amphora.244  The   reference   to   the   text   itself   is   also   noteworthy:  
ἐνκεχαραγμένον   οὔνομα   ἠδ᾽   ἐτέων   ἀριθμόν   (in   the   fourth   verse,   see   ll.   3–4   in   the  
edition).245    
  Compare   the   previous   example   (no.   23)   with   the   following   epigram   from  
Tabala:246  
 

24.     τίς  με  τὸν  ἐξ  ἀγέλης  πέ-­‐  

δων  ἐξήγαγε  κοῦρον;  |  
—  νήπιον  ἑξξαέτη  Ἀνπέ-­‐  
λιον  κακὸς  ἥρπασε  δέ-­‐  
             5    μων·∙  |  ἐρχόμενον  φωτὸς  |  
ἐτέλεσέ  με  Μῦρα  ·∙  τίμησάν  |  
                                                                                                                         
244
 For  a  detailed  analysis  of  the  decorations,  see  Lambros  1905,  267–9.  
245
 The  metre:  two  hexameters,  one  catalectic  dactylic  hexapod  and  a  heptapod;  cf.  Birt  1911,  148.  
246
 SGO  1,  04/16/03,  Tabala,  Lydia,  270/1  CE.  

  87  
 με  γονῖς  Ἀλέξανδρος  κὲ  
Παπιανή,  ἔτους  τνεʹ′,  μ(ηνὸς)  Γορ-­‐  
πι[αί]ο̣υ̣  γ̣ʹ.  

Who   took   me,   the   youngster,   away   from   the   herd   of   boys?   —   An   ill-­‐willed   divinity  
snatched  away  Ampelius,  a  six-­‐year-­‐old  small  child.  Moira  set  an  end  of  light  to  me,  
who  was  coming  (up).    

The   parents   Alexander   and   Papiane   gave   this   in   my   honour.   In   year   355   (of   Sullan  
era),  on  the  third  of  the  month  Gorpiaios.  
 

This   epigram   uses   the   medium   of   passerby–monument   or   passerby–deceased  

dialogue,   but   it   is   actually   a   monologue   by   the   deceased.247  At   the   beginning,   the  
dead   Ampelius   himself,   rather   than   a   passerby,   asks   about   his   fate.   He   does   not  
reveal  his  name  in  the  question  turn,  but  uses  a  noun  (κοῦρον)  instead.  As  we  can  
see,  he  asks  a  question  similar  to  the  passerby  questions  above,  and  answers  them  
himself.   His   name   is   given   in   the   second   turn,   in   the   form   of   an   answer:   νήπιον  
ἑξξαετῆ  Ἀνπέλιον  κακὸς  ἥρπασε  δέμων.  The  age  of  the  deceased  is  also  given  in  this  
answer  turn.  Until  here,  this  turn  looks  like  a  turn  of  the  monument,  but  the  end  of  
the  epigram  makes  it  clear  that  the  speaker  is  still  the  deceased:  ἐρχόμενον  φωτὸς  
ἐτέλεσέ   με   Μῦρα.   In   the   prose   section,   the   donators’   names   (Ampelius’   parents,  
Alexander  and  Papiane)  are  followed  by  the  date.  The  deceased  is  still  the  speaker  
(τίμησάν   |   με   [...in   my   honour]),   which   is   also   exceptional.   It   would   be   more  
conventional  to  say  that  the  parents  gave  this  in  honour  of  Ampelius,  using  the  third  
person,  and  not  to  use  the  first  person  singular.  This  epigram  is  a  good  example  of  
known   patterns   being   used   in   a   different   way,   but   despite   the   similarities   in  
structure  between  this  epigram  and  the  dialogues,  I  have  omitted  it  from  my  corpus,  
as  the  epigram  is  told  in  one  voice  only.  

                                                                                                                         
247
 The  speaker  in  a  monologue  may  ask  questions  and  then  answer  them,  especially  in  ‘later’,  i.e.  
post-­‐Hellenistic,  epigrams.  For  example,  in  a  bath  dedication  inscription  from  Syria,  the  structure  is  
similar  to  the  epigram  from  Tabala:  This  bath,  I,  Thomas,  (acting)  again  for  sake  of  all,  have  given  to  
all  property-­‐holders,  presenting  this  remembrance.  What  is  the  name  of  the  bath?  Health.  Through  
this  entering,  Christ  hath  opened  for  us  the  bath  of  healing.  cf.  SGO  4,  20/22/01.  

  88  
 The  following  piece  is  an  honorary  epigram  from  the  6th  century  CE:248  

 
25.     ἄνδρα  μοι  ἔννεπε,  κοῦρε·∙  τίς  |ἔπλετο  οὗτος  ἄριστος;  |  
—  ξεῖνε  φίλ᾽,  Ἠλίαν  μιν  ἐπάξια|  τεῖσαν  ἄνακτες·∙  |  
    στεινόμενον  γὰρ  ἔτευξεν  ἑοῖ̣ς̣  |  κτεάτεσσι  λοετρὸν  |  
χειμερινὸν  πλατύνας,  πτόλιος  δ᾽  |  ἐλέαιρε  πένητας,  |  
                    τέχνης  οἳ  τὰ  ἕκαστα  δαήμονε[ς]  |  ἀμφιπένονται,  |  
ἐκ  σφετέρης  παρέχων  τὰ  |  τελέσματα  οὐσίας  αὐτός.  |  
      hederae  
 

Young  man,  tell  me  of  (this)  man;  who  was  this  member  of  elite?  —  Dear  stranger,  he  
was   Elias.   He   was   honoured   by   the   rulers   in   a   deserving   way.   For   he   extended   the  
confined  winter  bath  with  his  own  money,  and  he  had  compassion  for  the  city’s  poor,  
of   whom   everyone   follows   the   handicraft   each   is   skilled   in,   so   he   paid   himself   the  
wages  from  his  own  possessions.  

 
The   speakers   are   the   passerby   and   the   monument.   It   is   obvious   that,   despite   the  
Homeric   reference   directed   to   a   young   man   (is   κοῦρε   referring   to   the   monument  
decoration?),   ἄνδρα   μοι   ἔννεπε,   κοῦρε249  is   addressed   to   the   monument   by   the  
passerby,  asking  about  the  person  in  whose  honour  it  is  set  up.  Or,  at  least  we  know  
that   the   monument   is   speaking   in   the   answer   turn   because   it   refers   to   the   deceased  
in   the   third   person   singular.   The   second   question   in   the   question   turn,   τίς   |ἔπλετο  
οὗτος   ἄριστος;   is   also   typical   question   asked   by   a   passerby.   The   epithet   ἄριστος  
possibly  referst  to  member  of  elite  (as  I  have  translated).  

The   Homeric   reminiscence   is   an   introduction   to   the   actual   question:   it  

provides   an   imperative   and   a   slightly   peculiar   address250,   after   which   follows   the  
question   sentence   (starting   with   the   interrogative   τίς).   Homeric   line   in   a   late  
monument  does  not  seem  peculiar  when  we  remember  that  Homer  was  fashionable  
throughout  antiquity,  and  even  more  so  in  Late  Antiquity.  
                                                                                                                         
248 th
 SGO  4,  20/06/01,  Epiphaneia  (Orontes),  Syria,  6  century  CE.  cf.  SEG  17,  756.  
249
 Hom.  Od.  1.1:  ἄνδρα  μοι  ἔννεπε,  μοῦσα-­‐-­‐-­‐.  
250
 Who  is  the  young  man  addressed  here?  Someone  depicted  on  the  monument?  cf.  Busch  1999,  
211:  ‘‘Knaben’,  der  aber  kaum  mehr  ist  als  eine  Hilfskonstruktion,  um  das  Homerzitat  dem  Zweck  
anzupassen’.  This  formula  would  also  fit  grave  monuments,  e.g.,  ἄνδρα  μοι  ἔννεπε,  τύμβε.  

  89  
 The  answer  turn,  however,  begins  with  an  address  (ξεῖνε  φίλ᾽),  and  the  name  
of  the  deceased  is  given  straight  after  that:  Ἠλίαν  μιν  ἐπάξια|  τεῖσαν  ἄνακτες.  The  
reward  mentioned  here  was  that  he  was  granted  a  statue  in  a  public  place.251  

The  second  variant  of  type  1  may  also  be  a  greeting  pair:252    
 
26.             Διονυσοδώρου  τοῦ  
                                                                   Πυθέου.  
Διονυσόδωρε  χαῖρε·∙  —  καὶ  σύ  γε,  ὦ  φίλε·∙  
τὸ  νῦν  ἔχον  γείνωσκέ  με  ὧδε  κείμενον,  
                 5    καλὸν  καὶ  ἀγαθὸν  καὶ  καλῶς  ἐζωκότα,  
Λ̣ιμναγενῆ  γεγονότα,  πᾶσι  προσφιλῆ.  
 
Of  Dionysodoros,  son  of  Pytheas.  
Dionysodoros,   greetings.  —   To   you   too,  friend.   As   it   stands   now,   know   that   I   lie   here,  
an  excellent  and  good  man  who  has  lived  in  good  way,  (and)  who  was  born  in  Limnai,  
(and)  beloved  to  everyone.  
 

The  speakers  are  the  passerby  and  the  deceased.  Before  the  discussion,  the  name  of  
the   deceased   is   mentioned   in   the   title   and   is   then   repeated   in   the   opening   greeting:  
Διονυσόδωρε  χαῖρε.  Then,  the  deceased  replies  to  the  passerby:  καὶ  σύ  γε,  ὦ  φίλε  
(φίλε   may   also   be   used   to   denote   the   passerby).   Following   this,   the   deceased  
continues  to  speak.  The  excellence  of  the  deceased  is  verbalised  in  the  first  person  
singular  turn,  as  well  as  his  birthplace:  γείνωσκέ  με  ὧδε  κείμενον  /καλὸν  καὶ  ἀγαθὸν  
καὶ   καλῶς   ἐζωκότα   Λ̣ιμναγενῆ   γεγονότα   /πᾶσι   προσφιλῆ.   In   the   fourth   line,  
γείνωσκέ  most  likely  refers  to  the  reception  situation  again.  
To  the  right  and  partly  under  the  text  there  is  a  sketch  of  a  ship.  Above  the  
text  there  is  also  a  relief  in  a  niche.  The  relief  contains  a  table  with  food  on  it,  and  
three  men  and  two  women  sit  by  the  table.253  The  ship  sketch  probably  refers  to  the  

                                                                                                                         
251
 SGO  4,  20/06/01.
252 nd st
 GVI  1851  =  SGO  2,  08/01/39,  Cyzicus,  Mysia,  2 /1  century  BCE.  cf.  Garulli  2014,  63–4.  
253
 For  a  photo,  see,  e.g.,  the  SGO  edition.  

  90  
deceased   person’s   birthplace   –   Λ̣ιμναγενῆ   γεγονότα   –   and   the   scene   depicted   in   the  
relief  is  obviously  the  commemoration  banquet.254    
 

3.2.3  Two  longer  turns    

The  third  variant  of  type  1  is  an  adjacency  pair  with  two  longer  turns.  ‘Longer’  here  
means  that  both  of  the  turns  are  more  than  one  verse  long  (but  the  turns  within  one  
epigram  do  not  need  to  be  of  equal  length).  There  can  be  multiple  moves  in  either  
one  or  in  both  of  the  turns,  for  example  two  question  sentences  in  a  row  and  a  reply  
turn.  In  the  following  epigram,  there  are  two  question  moves  in  the  first  turn:  255    

 
27.     εἰπέ,  λέον,  φθιμένοιο  τίνος  τάφον  ἀμφιβέβηκας,  
βουφάγε;  τίς  τᾶς  σᾶς  ἄξιος  ἦν  ἀρετᾶς;      
—  υἱὸς  Θευδώροιο  Τελευτίας,  ὅς  μέγα  πάντων    
φέρτερος  ἦν,  θηρῶν  ὅσσον  ἐγὼ  κέκριμαι·∙  
                 5      οὐχὶ  μάταν  ἕστακα,  φέρω  δέ  τι  σύμβολον  ἀλκᾶς  
ἀνέρος,  ἦν  γὰρ  δὴ  δυσμενέεσσι  λέων.  
 

Tell,   lion   ox-­‐eater,   whose   tomb   do   you   guard?   Who   was   your   worth   in   excellence?  —  
Teleutias,  son  of  Theodorus,  who  was  by  far  the  bravest  of  all  men,  as  far  as  I  have  
assessed  beasts.  I  do  not  stand  for  nothing,  as  I  bear  a  symbol  of  the  strength  of  a  
man;  he  was  namely  a  lion  to  his  enemies.  

The   speakers   here   are   the   passerby   and   the   monument;   the   monument,   more  
specifically,  is  a  lion  statue  on  the  monument.  The  passerby  begins  with  a  question  
turn.  Here,  the  imperative  is  at  the  beginning  of  the  turn:  εἰπέ,  λέον-­‐-­‐-­‐.  As  one  can  
see,   the   two   questions   are   practically   the   same.   Owing   to   the   address  
(λέον…βουφάγε),  it  is  obvious  that  the  lion  statue  is  the  speaker  in  the  second  turn.  
The   reply   turn   is   descriptive;   it   firstly   reveals   the   identity   of   the   deceased   (υἱὸς  
                                                                                                                         
254
 For  further  explanations  and  depiction  of  the  decoration,  see  Smith  1892,  342  (no.  736);  Marshall  
1916,  no.  1009;  CIG  3648;  and  Kaibel  245.  Banquet  in  a  relief  is  a  motif  found  in  other  grave  markers  
as  well.  
255
 GVI  1834,  after  ca  88–86  BCE;  cf.  AG  7.426,  Antipater  of  Sidon.  

  91  
Θευδώροιο  Τελευτίας),  and  after  that  praises  his  excellence  and  bravery,  so  that  the  
audience  is  convinced  that  the  lion  is  indeed  a  suitable  symbol  for  such  a  man.256  It  is  
stated   that   the   monument   is   σύμβολον   ἀλκᾶς   /   ἀνέρος,   ἦν   γὰρ   δὴ   δυσμενέεσσι  
λέων,  but  his  deeds  are  not  depicted  in  detail.  
  In  another  example  of  this  variant,  there  are  several  questions  in  the  opening  
turn:257  
 
28.   [τίς  εὐπρεπέ]σιν  γλυφαῖσιν  εἵδρυσεν  τά[φον,]  
τίς  τᾷ  τέχνᾳ  τὸ  κάλλος  ἠγλαΐσατο,  
τίς  ἁ  περισσόμορφος  ἐν  τύποις  γυνά,  
μάνυε·∙  θνατὰν  ἢ  Κύπριν  δέδορκά  σε;  
               5      —  θνατάν  με  Πῶλλαν,  οὐχὶ  τὰν  θεὰν  Κύπριν  
λεύσεις  γλυφαῖσιν  ἠγλαϊσμέναν,  ξένε,  
κάλλους  δὲ  νείκαν  στέφανον  εὐανθῆ  κρατῶ,  
[γλύψαν]τος  ἁμᾶς  Βίκτορος  ξυνευνέτα.  
 

[Who]   has   put   up   (the   grave)   with   [beautif]ul   reliefs?   Who   has   made   the   beauty  
splendid   with   art?   Who   is   the   eminently   beautiful   woman   in   the   relief?   Reveal   it!   Are  
you,   whom   I   see,   a   mortal   or   Cypris?   —   You   see   me,   the   mortal   Paulla,   and   not  
goddess  Cypris,  in  brilliantly  pictured  reliefs,  o  stranger;  in  my  hand  I  hold  a  beautiful-­‐
flowered   garland   as   a   victory   token   of   my   beauty.   Victor,   my   husband,   [represent]ed  
us  (in  reliefs).  
 

This  epigram  is  iambic,  and  the  speakers  are  the  passerby  (ll.  1–4)  and  the  deceased,  
Paulla   (ll.   5–8).258  This   is   from   a   monument   with   an   epigram   on   each   of   the   four  
                                                                                                                         
256
 For  Teleutias  and  speculation  for  the  reasons  of  his  excellence,  see  Hicks  1887,  112  and  further  
discussions  in  Preuner  1894,  550–2  and  Gow  and  Page  1965,  59–60.  According  to  Hicks,  the  composer  
of  the  epigram,  Antipater  of  Sidon,  would  have  been  a  contemporary  ‘and  perhaps  a  friend’  of  
Teleutias.  If  Teleutias  did  promote  the  revolt  under  Mithridates,  as  Hicks  suggests,  the  lion  symbol  is  
apt,  as  it  was  often  used  on  soldiers’  graves.  
257 rd
 SGO  1,  05/01/57,  3  century  CE,  Smyrna.  There  is  an  elegiac  monologue  of  the  deceased  on  the  
stone  (on  another  side  of  the  stone).  Text  on  two  other  sides  has  been  destroyed.  See  Fontrier  1900,  
253–5  (who  gives  the  date).  In  the  SGO  edition,  the  dialogue  begins  at  verse  25,  as  the  elegiac  
monologue  is  given  first.    
258
 In  SGO,  Die  Statue  antwortet  is  given,  but  clearly  it  is  the  deceased  (whom  the  statue  depicts):  cf.,  
e.g.,  θνατάν  με  Πῶλλαν  (l.  1)  and  στέφανον  εὐανθῆ  κρατῶ  (l.  3).  For  the  other  inscriptions  of  this  
monument,  see  SGO  and  Fontrier  1900,  253–4.  According  to  Fontrier,  Πῶλλα  =  Paulla,  a  Roman  
name,  like  the  husband’s  name,  Victor.  

  92  
sides,   but   two   of   them   are   now   destroyed.   The   dialogue   epigram   is   on   one   of   the  
narrow  sides,  and  on  the  other  one,  the  deceased  speaks  alone.  In  the  monologue  
epigram,   the   deceased   states   her   name,   her   fatherland   and   the   name   of   her  
husband,   i.e.   the   information   also   requested   and   mentioned   in   this   dialogue  
epigram.    
The   first   turn   in   the   dialogue   is   spoken   by   the   passerby,   who   asks   several  
questions   in   a   row,   and   so   three   interrogatives   are   included.   Here   too,   repetition  
helps   in   following   the   conversation.   Following   the   third   question,   there   is   an  
exhortative   imperative   μάνυε,   and   in   the   last   question   (l.   4),   the   passerby   asks  
whether  s/he  sees  the  deceased  or  the  goddess  Aphrodite  herself  (for  whom  Cypris  
is  an  epithet;  θνατὰν  ἢ  Κύπριν  δέδορκά  σε;),  to  which  the  deceased  replies:  θνατάν  
με  Πῶλλαν,  οὐχὶ  τὰν  θεὰν  Κύπριν-­‐-­‐-­‐.  Hence,  both  θνατὰν  and  Κύπριν  are  repeated  in  
the  answer  turn.  There  is  also  an  address  embedded  in  this  turn:  ξένε  in  line  6.  
This  epigram  is  yet  another  example  of  references  to  the  physical  context,  i.e  
the  decoration  of  the  stone:  the  phrases  εὐπρεπέ]σιν  γλυφαῖσιν,  τᾷ  τέχνᾳ  τὸ  κάλλος  
ἠγλαΐσατο   and   ἁ   περισσόμορφος   ἐν   τύποις   γυνά   in   the   questions   all   refer   to   the  
monument,  as  well  as  γλυφαῖσιν  ἠγλαϊσμέναν  in  the  answer  turn.  The  deceased  also  
describes  the  relief  in  which  she  is  depicted:  στέφανον  εὐανθῆ  κρατῶ.  
The  question  in  the  open  turn  is  also  repeated  in  the  following  epigram:259  

 
29.    τύμβε,  τίνος  τόδε  σῆμα;  τεὰν  ὑπὸ  λισσάδα  κε[ῖται]  
     τίς,  φράσον,  οἰκτροτάταν  μοῖραν  ἐνεγκάμενο[ς];  
 —  Δημῶναξ,  Σαλαμὶς  ὃν  ἐθρέψατο  παῖδα  φέριστον,  
       ἐμπορίαις  πικρὸν  δ᾽εἰς  Ἀχέροντ᾽  ἔμολεν,  
                 5    πόντον  ἐπιπλώσας  ἁλιμυρέα  καὶ  πολυκλαύτωι  
      ματέρι  καὶ  γενέται  στυγνὰ  λιπὼν  δάκρυα·∙  
οὐχ  ἧψαν  γὰρ  φῶς  τὸ  γαμήλιον  οὐδ᾽  ὑμέναιον  
    ἔκλαγον,  ἀλλὰ  γόους  ὀκτακαιεικοσέτους.  

                                                                                                                         
259 nd
 GVI  1833,  Salamis,  Cyprus,  2  century  BCE.  In  the  previous  examples  (nos  27  and  28)  the  question  
and  answer  turn  were  of  a  more  equal  length  than  in  the  epigram  in  question.  However,  the  question  
turn  includes  several  question  sentences,  and  is  more  than  one  verse  long,  so  I  categorised  it  here,  
even  though  it  could  perhaps  go  under  the  second  variant  as  well.  

  93  
 οὐ  κακός  ἐστ᾽  Ἀίδας·∙  πάριθι,  ξένε,  ‘χαῖρε’  προσείπας,  
             10    κοινὸν  ἐπεὶ  θνατοῖς  ὁ  πλόος  εἰς  φθιμένους.  
 

O   tomb,   whose   grave   is   this?   Tell   (me),   who   li[es]   under   your   smooth   cliff,   and   (who)  
suffered   the   most   pitiable   destiny.   —   Demonax,   whom   Salamis   brought   up,   best   of  
the  children,  went  to  bitter  Acheron,  with  commerce  on  the  salt-­‐surging  sea,  leaving  
his   much-­‐lamented   mother   and   his   father   in   gloomy   tears.   For   the   bridal   torches  
were   not   lit,   neither   was   wedding   song   sung   aloud,   only   wailings   for   the   28-­‐year-­‐old.  
Hades  is  not  evil;  pass  by,  o  stranger,  and  utter  additional  greetings,  since  the  sailing  
voyage  to  the  place  where  the  dead  dwell  is  common  for  all  the  mortals.  
 

The   speakers   are   the   passerby   and   the   monument.   The   passerby   begins   with   the  
address   τύμβε   –   he   speaks   about   the   grave   mound,   but   the   epigram   is   on   a   grave  
marker.  After  the  address,  there  follows  a  question  turn  built  with  the  interrogative  
τίνος   and   the   deictic   τόδε   σῆμα.   Another   question   follows,   accompanied   by   an  
imperative   in   the   centre   of   the   sentence:   -­‐-­‐-­‐τίς,   φράσον-­‐-­‐-­‐.   The   reader   is   well   guided  
to  note  that  the  speaker  is  going  to  change,  and  in  the  beginning  of  the  answer  turn,  
the  change  is  emphasised  by  revealing  the  name  of  the  deceased  as  the  first  word  of  
the   turn.   The   monument   then   goes   on   to   report   about   the   deceased   (his   fatherland,  
his  age  at  death  and  the  fact  that  he  did  not  yet  have  a  family  of  his  own).  At  the  end  
of  the  epigram,  there  is  once  again  an  invitation  to  participate  in  the  ritual  (πάριθι,  
ξένε,   ‘χαῖρε’   προσείπας),   and   the   common   fate   of   all   mortals   is   brought   to   mind   in   a  
rather  beautiful  manner:  κοινὸν  ἐπεὶ  θνατοῖς  ὁ  πλόος  εἰς  φθιμένους.  
The  epigrams  tended  to  get  more  complex  as  regards  both  the  content  and  
the   structure   during   the   later   period.   As   these   long-­‐turned   examples   show,   there  
was  also  some  variation  within  the  types;  for  instance,  the  last  example  is  far  more  
narrative-­‐based   and   provides   more   versatile   information   than   the   early   type-­‐1  
epigrams  discussed  in  Chapter  2.260    

                                                                                                                         
260
 Nos.  1  and  2  in  Chapter  2.  

  94  
3.2.4  Three-­‐turn  units    

Seven  type-­‐1  epigrams  include  an  adjacency  pair  that  is  accompanied  by  a  third  turn.  
Together,  these  turns  form  a  three-­‐turn  unit.  The  third  turn  may  be,  for  example,  a  
reaction  to  a  reply  turn,  or  an  opening  turn  after  which  a  greeting  pair  follows.  In  the  
following  example,  the  latter  is  the  case:261  

 
30.         [οὐ  γάμον  οὐδ᾽]  ὑμέναιον  ἰδ-­‐  
[ὼν  οὐ  νύ]νφια  λέκτρα,  
[κεῖμαι]  π<ρ>ὸς  στήλῃ  κεκλι-­‐  
[μέν]ος  παρ᾽  ὁδῷ.  |  —  χαῖρε  
[Φλ]ῶρε.  —  χαῖρε  καὶ  σύ,  
       τίς  ποτ᾽  εἶ,  ξένε.  

 
[I  did  not  see  the  wedding],  or  [hear]  a  wedding  song,  [or  (have)  br]idal  beds;  [I  lie]  
near  the  stone  by  the  road.  —  Greetings,  [Fl]orus.  —  Greetings  to  you  too,  o  stranger,  
whoever  you  are.  
 

The  speakers  are  the  deceased  and  the  passerby.  The  deceased  begins  the  poem  and  
states   that   he   was   unmarried   (if   the   restoration   is   correct).   A   greeting   pair   follows  
this.   The   passerby   addressed   the   deceased   by   his   name,   χαῖρε   [Φλ]ῶρε,   and   the  
deceased  replies:  χαῖρε  καὶ  σύ,  τίς  ποτ᾽  εἶ,  ξένε.  Once  again  the  monumental  context  
is  visible  in  the  text:  greetings  to  you,  whoever  you  are,  i.e.  whoever  happens  to  pass  
by  the  stone  and  read  the  epigram.  The  greeting  turn  of  the  passerby  is  a  reaction  to  
the   lament   of   the   deceased,   and   the   other   greeting   is   of   course   connected   to   the  
first   one,   so   these   three   turns   form   a   unit.   The   first   turn   forms   an   elegiac   distich,  
after  which  the  greeting  pair  follows.  The  greeting  pair  is  trochaic.  This  text  is  badly  
preserved,  but,  because  of  the  greeting  pair,  the  turn  division  is  easy  to  follow.  

                                                                                                                         
261 st
 IGPannonia  8.  cf.  GVI  1853.  According  to  Peek,  this  dates  to  mid-­‐1  century  CE.  The  following  is  
carved  below  the  epigram:  Florus  P(ubli)  Vedi  P(ubli)  f(ilii)  Fab(ia)  Germani  ser(vus)  an(norum)  XXVI  
h(ic)  s(itus)  e(st).  [domi]nus  ob  meritis  [eius]  fecit.  

  95  
 In   the   next   epigram,   the   speakers   are   also   the   passerby   and   the   deceased,  
and  the  passerby  opens  the  epigram  (after  the  prose  section,  which  gives  the  name  
of  the  deceased  and  his  father,  and,  rather  exceptionally,  the  date):262  
 
31.     Μηνογέ-­‐  
νης  
Ἀπολλω-­‐  
νίου  Λόλου  υἱός.  
   
ρκϛ̣ʹ′,  μ(ηνὸς)  
Ὑπερβερε-­‐  
ταίου  γʹ′.    
 
             5     νήπιος  ἐν  τύμβῳ  τίς  ἄρ᾽  ἐσθ᾽  ὅ-­‐  
δε;  ὡς  ἀταλαῖσι  |  χειρσὶν  
γλακτοπαγεῖ  μαστῷ  ἐπι-­‐  
κέκλιτε.  |  —  οὔνομα  Μηνο-­‐  
γένης  μοι,  ἐτέκνωσεν  
           10     δέ  με  Λόλους,  |  {νε}  ὃν  πέν-­‐  
θει  στυγερῷ  προὔλιπον  
ἐν  μελάθροις.  |  —    φεῦ,  Μοίρης  
εἰκαῖα  κριτήρια·∙  ὡς  ἀλογίστω[ς]  
Αὐ̣γῇ[ς]  ἔκ̣ τινας̣  
           15     καὶ  πατρὸς̣  θε̣μ̣έ̣ν̣ου.  
 

Menogenes,  son  of  Apollonius  Lolous.  On  the  3rd  of  Hyperberetaios,  year  126.  
Who  is  this  infant  in  the  grave?  Oh  how  he  has  reached  out  for  the  breast  full  of  milk  
with  his  tender  hands!  —  My  name  is  Menogenes;  Lolous,  whom  I  left  with  hateful  

                                                                                                                         
262
 GVI  1884,  GG  435  =  SGO  1,  05/01/65;  from  Smyrna,  but  originally  possibly  from  Lydia,  41/2  CE,  as  
the  date  given  above  the  epigram  shows.  Cf.  Fontrier  1900,  359–60.  Vérilhac  1978–1982,  no.  147  and  
Moysey  1988,  89–92.  End  of  the  epigram  badly  damaged,  translation  depends  on  restoration.  Peek  
suggests  πατρὸς̣  ἀχν<ύ>μενου  l.  15  (the  end  would  hence  be  ”…to  the  grief  of  (mother)  Auge  and    of  
the  father.  
 

  96  
sorrow  in  the  house,  begot  me.  —  Ah,  (how)  random  are  the  judgements  of  Moira!  
How  senselessly  you  -­‐-­‐-­‐!    
 

In  the  first  turn,  there  is  a  basic  type-­‐1  question,  although  its  structure  is  uncommon:  
νήπιος   ἐν   τύμβῳ·∙   τίς   ἄρ᾽   ἐσθ᾽.   The   passerby   knows   that   the   deceased   was   an   infant,  
because  the  relief  on  the  monument  depicts  a  baby  at  his  mother’s  breast.  Instead  
of   asking   who   lies   here,   the   passerby   starts   with   the   substantive   νήπιος   and   then  
asks:   τίς   ἄρ᾽   ἐσθ᾽;   The   other   move   in   this   turn   refers   directly   to   the   relief   and   the  
baby   reaching   out   for   the   breast:   ὡς   ἀταλαῖσι   χειρσὶν   /   γλακτοπαγεῖ   μαστῷ  
ἐπικέκλιτε.  The  passerby  does  not  address  the  deceased,  but  rather  talks  about  him  
in   the   third   person   singular.   In   the   answer   turn,   the   name   (with   the   substantive  
οὔνομα)  is  given  at  the  beginning:  οὔνομα  Μηνογένης  μοι.  The  deceased  reveals  his  
father’s   name   too,   and   how   the   father   is   left   in   heavy   pain.   The   last   turn   of   the  
passerby  is  a  reaction  to  this:  φεῦ,  Μοίρης  /  εἰκαῖα  κριτήρια-­‐-­‐-­‐;  the  passerby  bewails  
Moira’s  judgements  and  the  untimely  death  of  the  baby  Menogenes.  
In  our  last  example  of  this  variant,  taken  from  the  end  (the  final  iambic  part)  
of  the  inscription,  the  speakers  are  the  deceased  and  a  relative.263  
 

32.     ἄγγελε  Φερσεφόνης,  Ἑρμῆ,  τίνα  τόνδε  προπονπεῖς  

  εἰς  τὸν  ἀμείδητον  Τάρταρον  Ἀίδεω;  —  
  μοῖρά  τις  ἀεικέλιος  τὸν  Ἀρίστων᾽  ἥρπασ᾽  ἀπ᾽  αὐγῆς  
  ἑπταέτη{ι}·∙  μέσσος  δ᾽  ἐστὶν  ὁ  παῖς  γενετῶν.  —  
               5     δακρυχαρὴς  Πλούτων,  οὐ  πνεύματα  πάντα  βρότεια  
  σοὶ  νέμεται;  τί  τρυγᾶις  ὄμφακας  ἡλικίης;    
 

Messenger  of  Persephone,  Hermes,  whom  are  you  conducting  to  joyless  Tartarus  of  
Hades?  —  A  shameful  Moira  snatched  Ariston  away  from  the  sunlight  when  he  was  
seven  years  old;  now  the  boy  is  among  his  ancestors.  —  Pluton,  delighting  in  tears,  
aren’t  all  the  mortal  spirits  dealt  to  you?  Why  do  you  gather  in/reap  the  unripe  
grapes  of  youth?  
 

                                                                                                                         
263 st nd
 GVI  1883;  IG  ΧIV  769,  Neapel,  1 /2  century  CE.  For  other  three-­‐turn  unit  epigrams,  see  table  4  (in  
Section  3.4).  See  also  Rasche  1910,  33.  

  97  
This  epigram  comments  on  a  relief.  The  passerby  begins  the  epigram,  but  addresses  
Hermes  instead  of  the  deceased  or  the  monument  (Hermes  was  most  likely  depicted  
in  the  relief).  The  function  of  the  role  of  Hermes  is,  however,  quite  identical  to  that  
of   the   monument.   Hermes/the   monument   replies,   and   tells   about   the   deceased.  
After   this,   the   passerby   has   an   extra   turn.   This   is   not   addressed   to   Hermes   anymore,  
but   to   Pluton,   i.e.   a   character   outside   the   epigram.264  The   third   turn   is,   however,  
initiated   by   the   adjacency   pair   that   precedes   it;   the   last   turn   is   a   reaction   to   what  
Hermes  says  in  the  question–answer  pair.  

  As  the  examples  show,  the  extra  turn  may  be  either  at  the  beginning  or  at  the  
end  of  the  turn,  but,  in  any  case,  there  has  to  be  a  pragmatic  connection  between  
this   turn   and   the   adjacency   pair   to   make   it   a   three-­‐turn   unit.265  There   are   two  
speakers  in  these  examples,  and  one  of  them  has  two  turns.  Furthermore,  the  extra  
turn  is  always  connected  with  the  pair.  That  is  why  I  put  this  variant  under  the  type-­‐1  
category,  even  though  the  nucleus  of  type  1  is  one  adjacency  pair.266  

3.3.  Type  1  in  non-­‐inscribed  epigrams    

In  some  of  the  non-­‐inscribed  epigrams  the  monumental  context  is  imitated,  or  the  
speaker  situations  are  similar  to  the  ones  we  know  from  verse  inscriptions.  There  are  
of   course   dialogue   epigrams   that   have   no   traces   of   the   monument   inscriptions,   but   I  
am  interested  in  the  possible  similarities  between  the  communication  structures  of  
these  texts  and  the  verse  inscriptions,  so  I  will  briefly  discuss  some  examples  where  
these  similarities  may  be  detected.    
                                                                                                                         
264
 a  -­‐>  b,  b  -­‐>  a,  a  -­‐>  c.  
265
 cf.  SGO  1,  02/14/06  for  a  statement–question–response  epigram  (speakers  MON  –  PB  –  MON).  IG  
VII  3110  =  GVI  1838  is  also  a  three-­‐turn  t1  epigram  if  we  read  it  according  to  Peek’s  suggestion  (GVI).  
In  this  case,  there  would  be  interrogative  +  imperative  in  the  opening  turn  (question),  then  a  reply  to  
Q,  and  the  third  turn  would  be  a  reaction  to  the  reply  turn  (the  epigram  is  about  the  deceased),  and  in  
the  last  turn,  the  passerby  says:  ‘he  lies  in  the  grave  nevertheless’.  
266
 Compare  with  t3  comprising  three  speakers  that  often  have  a  turn  each.  Also,  the  length  of  the  
turns  determines  the  t3  epigrams.  In  the  rest  of  the  t1  three-­‐turn  unit  epigrams,  not  discussed  here,  
the  extra  turns  are:  a  closing  salutation/wish  after  a  Q  –  A  pair  in  GVI  1869,  reaction  to  the  answer  
turn  after  a  Q  –  A  pair  in  GVI  1883,  and,  in  the  case  of  IG  VII  3110  =  GVI  1838,  it  depends  on  the  
reading:  if  we  follow  Peek,  there  is  a  response  turn  to  a  Q  –  A  pair  in  this  epigram  too,  but  the  reading  
in  IG  is  much  more  fragmentary  and  unclear,  and  the  turn  structure  remains  somewhat  obscure.  In  
the  erotic  inscription  SGO  4,  21/09/01,  the  third  turn  is  a  reaction  to  the  second  turn.    

  98  
   The   ‘wavering’   identity   of   the   first   person   speaker   and   the   fact   that   the  
pragmatic  rules  did  not  necessarily  apply  to  the  epigrams  –  features  we  have  seen  in  
the  type-­‐1  epigrams  –  were  alluring  to  Hellenistic  poets.267  

The   following   epigram   looks   very   similar   to   many   of   the   type-­‐1   verse  
inscriptions  we  have  seen  so  far:268  

 
33.       —  αἰετέ,  τίπτε  βέβηκας  ὑπὲρ  τάφον;  ἢ  τίνος,  εἰπέ,    
     ἀστερόεντα  θεῶν  οἶκον  ἀποσκοπέεις;    
—  ψυχῆς  εἰμὶ  Πλάτωνος  ἀποπταμένης  ἐς    Ὄλυμπον    
   εἰκών·∙  σῶμα  δὲ  γῆ  γηγενὲς  Ἀτθὶς  ἔχει.  
 

Eagle,  why  do  you  guard  the  tomb?  And  whose  tomb  is  it,  tell  me,  and  why  do  you  
gaze   at   the   starry   home   of   the   gods?   —   I   am   the   image   of   Plato’s   soul,   which   had  
flown  away  to  Olympus,  but  his  earthly  body  is  here  in  Attic  soil.  

The   speakers   here   are   the   passerby   and   the   monument   (an   eagle   figure   on   the  
tomb).   In   the   opening   turn,   the   passerby   asks   whose   tomb   the   eagle   guards,   and  
why.269  Address   (αἰετέ),   interrogatives   (τίπτε,   τίνος)   and   imperative   (εἰπέ)   are   used  
in  the  first  turn.  These  are  all  familiar  features  from  the  verse  inscriptions.  Even  the  
eagle  theme  is  used  in  verse  inscriptions.  Similarly  to  the  lion  theme,  it  symbolises  
the  courage  and  virtues  of  a  man.  
    The  reply  turn  begins  with  ψυχῆς  εἰμι  Πλάτωνος…εἰκών,  which  answers  the  
questions  which  the  passerby  asks.      
In  the  next  example,  the  situation  is  somewhat  different:270  

 
34.     πολλὰ  πιὼν  τέθνηκας,  Ἀνάκρεον.  —  ἀλλὰ  τρυφήσας·∙      
     καὶ  σὺ  δὲ  μὴ  πίνων  ἵξεαι  εἰς  Ἀίδην.  
 

                                                                                                                         
267
 Schmitz  2010a,  327  (especially  note  6)  and  388–9.  
268
 AG  7.62,  anonymous.  
269
 Compare  with,  e.g.,  no.  1  in  Chapter  2:  σφίξ,  hαΐδαο  [κ]ύον,  τ̣ί̣ν᾽  ἔ[χοσ᾽]-­‐-­‐-­‐.  
270
 AG  7.33,  Julianus,  Prefect  of  Egypt.  

  99  
You   died   because   of   drinking   too   much,   Anacreon.   —   Yes,   but   enjoying   it.   You,  
although  you  do  not  drink,  will  come  to  Hades  too.    

(Translation  following  Paton)  

The  speakers  in  this  epigram  are  the  passerby  (of  an  imagined  monument)  and  the  
deceased.   The   passerby   addresses   the   deceased,   Ἀνάκρεον,   at   the   end   of   his   turn.  
Like  in  the  opening  greetings,  here  too  the  passerby  already  knows  the  name  of  the  
deceased.   This   is   a   statement–response   pair,   and   there   are   no   traces   of  
informativeness.   Instead,   the   epigram   plays   with   the   idea   that   Anacreon,   who   wrote  
drinking   songs,   died   from   drinking.   The   second   turn   again   starts   with   the   particle  
ἀλλὰ  (as  in  nos.  4  and  7  earlier  in  this  chapter).  The  turn  of  the  deceased  opposes  
the   sentiment   in   the   first   turn,   but   the   particle   also   divides   the   turns.   ἵξεαι   εἰς   Ἀίδην  
is   reminiscent   of   grave   inscriptions,   wherein   the   deceased   often   gives   a   reminder  
that  everyone  must  go  to  Hades  (like  εἰς  κοινὸν  Ἅιδην  πάντες  ἥξουσι  βροτοί  in  the  
same  no.  32  mentioned  above).  The  speaker  pair  alone  makes  the  epigram  look  like  
funerary  grave  inscriptions,  and  the  details  discussed  here  are  also  similar.  

  The  next  epigram  is  by  Callimachus:271  

 
35.     Τίμων  (οὐ  γὰρ  ἔτ᾽  ἐσσί),  τί  τοι,  σκότος  ἢ  φάος,  ἐχθρόν;  
 —  τὸ  σκότος:  ὑμέων  γὰρ  πλείονες  εἰν  Ἀΐδῃ.  
 
Timon  (for  you  are  not  alive  anymore),  which  is  most  hateful  to  you,  darkness  or  
light?  —  Darkness;  there  are  more  of  your  kind  in  Hades.    
 
(Translation  according  to  Paton,  but  with  a  couple  of  minor  alterations)  
 

Again,  the  speakers  are  the  passerby  and  the  deceased.  Like  in  example  number  1,  
the  passerby  knows  the  name  of  the  deceased.  The  passerby  does  not  ask  for  facts  
about   the   deceased,   but   for   something   different:   τί   τοι,   σκότος   ἢ   φάος,   ἐχθρόν.   The  
reply   turn   starts   with   τὸ   σκότος,   so   there   is   repetition,   just   like   in   some   verse  
                                                                                                                         
271
 AG  7.317,  Callimachus.  For  other  dialogues  by  Callimachus,  see  table  B1  in  the  Appendices.  

  100  
inscriptions.   The   joke   in   this   epigram   is   that   Timon   was   a   known   misanthrope   to  
whom   Hades   is   painful   because   there   are   more   people   there   than   in   the   light.  
Calllimachus  is  playing  with  the  speaker  roles  familiar  from  the  verse  inscription,  as  
well  as  speech  and  dialogue,  as  he  often  did.272  
  As  the  last  two  examples  show,  the  context  of  grave  epigrams  was  denoted  
by  speaker  pairs,  but  instead  of  giving  information  (even  ‘imagined  information’),  the  
funerary   context   was   sometimes   used   in   a   playful   way   to   discuss   other   themes,   or  
just  as  a  frame  for  a  witty  discussion.  
The  following  epigram  is  an  epinikion:273    
 
36.   εἰπόν,  τίς,  τίνος  ἐσσί,  τίνος  πατρίδος,  τί  δὲ  νικῇς;    
—  Κασμύλος,  Εὐαγόρου,  Πύθια  πύξ,  Ῥόδιος.  
 
Say,   who   you   are,   whose   son,   from   which   country,   and   in   what   a   winner.   —  
Casmylus,  son  of  Evagoras,  a  Rhodian,  victor  in  boxing  at  the  Pythian  games.    
 
(Translation  according  to  Paton)  
 

The   speakers   are   the   passerby   and   the   athlete   honoured   in   the   epigram.   There   is   an  
epinikion   in   the   material   (no.   10),   but   this   epigram   is   also   similar   to   many   of   the  
funerary   epigrams,   as   is   also   the   case   with   example   number   10.   In   the   opening   turn,  
the   passerby   asks   questions,   but   begins   the   whole   turn   with   an   imperative   (as   in   no.  
26):  εἰπόν,  τίς,  τίνος  ἐσσί,  τίνος  πατρίδος,  τί  δὲ  νικῇς;  These  questions  are  also  asked  
in   number   10   (although   not   with   the   exact   same   wording),   but   the   first   three  
questions   are   also   common   in   funerary   verse   inscriptions.   The   second   speaker  
replies   to   every   question   briefly:   Κασμύλος,   Εὐαγόρου,   Πύθια   πύξ,   Ῥόδιος.   Each  
question  is  thus  answered  in  the  shortest  possible  way.  
  The  speakers  in  these  epigrams  are  like  the  speakers  familiar  to  us  from  verse  
inscriptions.  Thus,  when  a  text  is  not  cut  into  a  real  monument,  can  we  say  that  the  

                                                                                                                         
272
 See  Tueller  2008,  113–15  and  Schmitz  2010a,  376.  
273
 This  is  AG  16.23,  Simonides;  for  similar,  see  16.55  by  Troilus  Grammaticus.  According  to  Page  1981,  
245,  this  may  be  a  copy  from  an  inscription,  but  not  necessarily.  Tueller  2010,  56,  argues  that  the  text  
is  possibly  (or  probably)  earlier  than  Simonides;  see  Tueller.  cf.  Schmitz  2010a,  377  (especially  note  
19).  

  101  
speaker   in   the   epigram   is   the   monument?   What   about   the   passerby?   There   is   still  
someone,   often   unidentified,   asking   questions   in   the   epigrams   in   the   same   way   as  
the   passerby   does.274  The   information   is   then   given,   in   the   same   ways   as   it   would   be  
given   by   the   monument   speaker.   Hence   the   speaker   pairs   are   ostensibly   similar   to  
those  in  the  monument  texts,  but  the  reception  situation  is  different.  Despite  this,  I  
think  that  the  play  with  the  monumental  speaker  roles  is  intentional,  as  is  also  the  
case   in   example   number   36.   The   writers   could   use   this   discrepancy   to   make   the  
fictional  situations  lively.  
  In  an  epigram  by  Leonidas  of  Tarentum,  it  is  implied  that  the  passerby/reader  
should  actually  give  up  the  old  traditions:275  
 

37.     τὴν  ἐπ᾽  ἐμεῦ  στήλην  παραμείβεο,  μήτε  με  χαίρειν    

     εἰπών,  μήθ᾽  ὅστις,  μὴ  τίνος  ἐξετάσας·∙    
ἢ  μὴ  τὴν  ἀνύεις  τελέσαις  ὁδὸν·∙  ἢν  δὲ  παρέλθῃς    
     σιγῇ,  μηδ᾽  οὕτως  ἣν  ἀνύεις  τελέσαις.  
 
Pass  by  the  pillar  upon  me,  and  don’t  greet  me.  Don’t  ask  ‘who  and  whose  son  are  
you?’   Don’t   inquire   of   my   parentage.   If   you   do,   may   you   never   reach   the   end   of   your  
road.  But  if  you  go  by  in  silence,  even  so  may  you  not  reach  the  end  of  your  road.  
 
(Translation  by  Tueller  with  minor  amendments)  
 

In  this  monologue,  the  deceased  refers  to  a  typical  dialogue  situation,  but  tells  the  
passerby  not  to  ask  greet  him/her,  and  not  to  make  enquiries.  The  last  two  verses,  
which  do  not  particularly  wish  the  passerby  well,  are  also  somewhat  different  from  
the  verse  inscription  conventions,  and  this  is  of  course  intentional.  
 

3.4  Conclusion  

Type  1  is  chronologically  the  first  and  also  the  most  common  of  the  dialogue  epigram  
types.   These   epigrams   consist   of   on   adjacency   pair:   X   –   Y.   There   are   always   two  

                                                                                                                         
274
   cf.  reader  him-­‐/herself:  Schmitz  2010b,  29.  
275
 AG  7.316,  Leonidas  of  Tarentum.  Gow  and  Page  no.  100,  cf.  Tueller  2008,  66.  

  102  
speakers,  and  in  most  cases,  they  have  one  turn  each,  but,  occasionally,  one  of  them  
has  an  extra  turn  either  at  the  beginning  (1  +  X  –  Y)  or  at  the  end  of  the  epigram  (X  –  
Y   +   1).   The   pairs   can   be   question–answer   pairs   (the   most   common   pair),   greeting  
pairs  or  statement–response  pairs.  The  function  of  the  question–answer  pairs  is  to  
offer   facts   about   the   deceased   or   the   honorand:   who   has   died   or   e.g.   set   up   a  
building,   why,   and   so   on.   With   a   question,   the   passerby   can   motivate   a   reply   that  
reveals   these   facts.   Similar   facts   can   be   told   in   the   turn   of   a   relative,   if   the   deceased  
first   asks   e.g.   ‘why   do   you   cry’.   More   abstract   questions,   such   as   we   find   in   the   non-­‐
inscribed   epigrams,   e.g.   the   question   about   life   after   death   in   Timon   epigram   (no.  
35),  are  not  prominent  in  the  verse  inscriptions.  
All   the   speaker   pairs   are   found   in   the   type-­‐1   epigrams.276  That   being   said,  
most  of  the  type-­‐1  epigrams  are  either  passerby–monument  or  passerby–deceased  
dialogues,   while   relative–deceased   pairs   are   remarkably   less   common   in   type-­‐1  
epigrams.   In   some   cases,   however,   the   speaker   roles   cause   confusion.   This   is   the  
case   in   some   epigrams   with   a   possible   relative   role   (is   it   the   monument   or   the  
relative  speaking?),  and  in  some  cases,  it  is  difficult  to  say  whether  the  speaker  is  the  
monument  or  the  passerby  (for  example,  greetings  addressed  to  the  deceased),  but  
usually   there   are   factors   in   each   epigram   that   can   help   in   the   identification   of   the  
speakers.  Our  interpretation  of  the  speaker  may  change  during  the  course  of  reading  
the  epigram.  
The  turns  and  the  speakers,  as  well  as  the  change  of  both,  are  indicated  by  
features   such   as   address,   imperative,   interrogatives   and   repetition.   These   are  
combined   in   various   ways,   for   example   interrogative   +   address   and   interrogative   +  
address   +   imperative.   These   are   most   common   in   the   first   turn   (often   a   question),  
but  are  also  possible  in  the  reply/response  turn.  Greetings  are  also  common.  There  
are  either  greeting  pairs  or  epigrams  with  a  greeting  that  produces  a  response  or  a  
statement   followed   by   a   greeting.   In   the   statement–response   pairs,   features   such   as  
address   are   used   to   denote   the   speakers,   just   as   in   question–answer   pairs,   for  
instance.    

                                                                                                                         
276
 PB  –  MON,  PB  –  DEC,  REL  –  DEC.  The  narrator  role,  mentioned  in  Chapter  2,  is  absent  in  the  t1  
epigrams.  

  103  
   All  of  these  features  are  visible  in  the  four  main  variants  of  type  1.  Variants  
1–3  are  adjacency  pairs  in  which  the  turns  are  either  both  short  (variant  1),  one  turn  
is  short  and  one  longer  (variant  2)  or  both  turns  are  long  (variant  3).  Short  and  long  
are  of  course  relative  concepts,  but  the  rule  of  thumb  is  that,  in  a  long  turn,  there  
are  several  moves,  and  these  turns  are  several  verses  long.  Variant  2  can  contain,  for  
example,  a  short  question  that  is  given  a  reply,  and,  after  that,  the  second  speaker  
offers   additional   information   on   the   subject,   or   talks   on   a   more   general   level;  
therefore,   the   epigram   consists   of   a   short   question   and   a   broad   reply.   This   variant  
can  also  be  found  in  greeting  pairs,  where  a  name  +  χαῖρε  can  produce  a  response  
turn   with   information   or   a   lament   about   the   deceased.   Variant   3   can   contain,   for  
example,  several  questions  in  the  first  turn  and  replies  to  all  of  them  in  the  second.  
The  number  of  the  moves  in  the  first  and  second  turns  or  verses  does  not  have  to  be  
identical,  however.  In  variant  4,  there  is  an  extra  turn  that  belongs  to  the  adjacency  
pair,  so  that  these  three  turns  form  a  three-­‐turn  unit.  The  third  turn  is  a  reaction  to  
the   pair   or   one   turn   of   the   pair   (in   the   end   of   the   epigram),   or   it   is   the   initiative   that  
causes   a   clear   adjacency   pair   (when   the   extra   turn   is   at   the   beginning   of   the  
epigram).   In   both   cases,   the   extra   turn   is   clearly   linked   to   an   adjacency   pair.   The  
variation  of  moves  is  the  factor  that  causes  these  four  different  combinations  of  type  
1.    
  The   division   of   the   turns   is   not   always   unproblematic:   in   some   cases,   there  
are  several  options.  Some  controversial  cases  of,  for  example,  speaker  roles,  are  also  
discussed,  and  I  offer  explanations  for  my  suggestions.  It  is  also  noteworthy  that  title  
lines   and   prose   lines   with   additional   information   tend   to   become   common,   as   the  
examples  in  this  chapter  show,  and,  futhermore,  that  the  ambiguity  of  the  speaker  
roles  was  often  intentional.    
  Type-­‐1  epigrams  are  frequent  in  the  non-­‐inscribed  epigrams  as  well,  in  which  
the  fictionality  of  the  speech  acts  is  often  emphasised.  The  few  examples  I  offer  in  
this   chapter   show   that   they   share   similarities   with   the   verse   inscriptions,   but   also  
differences.  The  same  general  themes  (e.g.  ‘grave  inscriptions’)  can  be  used,  but  in  
the   non-­‐inscribed   epigrams,   the   treatment   of   the   theme   is   often   different   from   in  
the   monumental   texts.   The   roles   and   the   reception   situation   are   also   inevitably  
different   from   those   in   the   verse   inscriptions,   despite   the   similarities.   The   satirical  

  104  
twist,  known  so  well  from  the  later  European  epigram  tradition,  can  already  be  seen,  
as   in   the   epigram   by   Callimachus   (no.   35   in   this   chapter)   that   plays   with   the  
misanthrope   Timon   in   the   form   of   a   funerary   epigram.   Non-­‐inscribed   epigrams   no  
doubt   affected   the   post-­‐classical   monumental   texts,   but   they   also   bear   some  
patterns  familiar  from  the  earlier  monument  verse  inscriptions.  
 
 
Table  4:  Type-­‐1  epigrams  in  verse  inscriptions  according  to  their  variants:277  
variant  1   IG  II/III2  7711  =  GVI  1386  =  SEG  36,  269  =  SEG  37,  192   no.  18  
GVI  1835  =  SGO  3,  14/07/02   no.  21  (2;  6)  
GVI  1850   no.  15  
SGO  2,  10/02/31  =  SEG  33,  1111   no.  1  
IG  XII  7,  490  =  GVI  1856   no.  12  
IG  II/III2  11606a  =  GVI  1841  =  SEG  30,  268  =  SEG  31,  238   no.  20  
IC  II  xiv  27  =  GVI  1852   no.  11  
SGO  2,  08/04/05   no.  13  
GVI  1831  (frgm.)  =  SEG  120   (ch.  2;  1)  
SGO  1,  01/12/05  =  CEG  429   (ch.  2;  2)  
SGO  2,  08/01/44  =  GVI  1855   (ch.  2;  15)  
GVI  1854  =  SGO  2,  08/04/06  =  SEG  42,  926  
IG  XIV,  1514a  =  GVI  1886  =  SEG  42,  926  
SGO  2,  08/01/49  
SGO  1,  03/02/198  (‘halbmetrisch’  (SGO))  
SGO  1,  05/01/18  =  AG  9.671  
SGO  2,  09/11/03278  
IC  IV  391,  no.  432  =  SEG  28,  739  
variant  2   IG  V  2,  182  =  GVI  1857   no.  14  
GVI  1878  =  SGO  4,  20/16/02  =  SEG  7,  329   no.  17  
SGO  1,  02/09/24   no.  7  
SGO  2,  09/07/09  =  SEG  28,  995   no.  22  
GVI  1851  =  SGO  2,  08/01/39   no.  26  
IG  II/III2  12794  =  GVI  1836   no.  23  
Corinth  8,  1,  no.  89  =  IG  IV  1603   no.  8  
[SGO  1,  04/16/03   no.  24]  
SEG  23,  434  =  GG  429   no.  4  
IG  II/III2  13166  =  GVI  1880   no.  2  
GVI  1840   no.  6  (2;  8)  
SGO  4,  20/06/01  =  SEG  17,  756   no.  25  
IG  XII  3,  220  =  GVI  1832  =  SEG  60,  894   (ch.  2;  11)  
Rife  2008,  132  =  SEG  58,  311   no.  16  
GVI  1867  (fragm.)  =  SEG  11,  383   (ch.  2;  7)  
SGO  1,  04/24/16  =  SEG  57,  1206    
SGO  2,  08/04/98  (fragm.)    
SGO  3,  14/04/02  =  GVI  1839    

                                                                                                                         
277
 The  variants  are:  1=  two  short  turns;  2  =  one  short  and  one  long(er)  turn;  3  =  two  longer  turns;  4  =  
a  three-­‐turn  unit.  
278
 Possibly;  very  fragmentary,  so  even  the  type  is  not  certain,  but  t1  is  perhaps  most  probable.  

  105  
 SGO  3,  16/06/01  =  SEG  6,  210    
SGO  4,  17/09/01  =  SEG  56,  1111    
SEG  55,  775  (=  SEG  35,  763)    
GVI  1849  =  SGO  2,  09/06/99    
SGO  1,  05/01/19  =  AG  9.670    
SEG  18,  269    
SGO  4,  18/01/24    
SGO  4,  20/27/01  =  SEG  44,  1566  =  SEG  57,  2172    
SGO  2,  09/04/06  =  SEG  51,  1707    
SGO  1,  01/12/20    
variant  3   GVI  1834   no.  27  
GVI  1833   no.  29  
Smyrna  249  =  SGO  1,  05/01/32  =  GVI  1879  =  SEG  49,  1478   no.  3  
SGO  4,  20/02/01  =  GVI  1877  =  BÉ  1953   no.  19  (2;  12)  
SGO  4,  19/10/01  =  AG  7.426  =  SEG  30,  1562  =  SEG  57,  2092   no.  5  
SGO  1,  05/01/57   no.  28  
Olympia  5,  225   no.  9  
IG  II/III2  12067  =  GVI  1387  =  GG  101  =  CEG  530  =  SEG  29,  259   (ch.  2;  3)  
GVI  1885  
SGO  4,  21/07/01  =  SEG  58,  1743  &  1885  =  SEG  60,  1927(3)  
SGO  2,  11/07/05  =  AG  16.201  
GVI  1876  
SGO  4,  18/01/26  
variant  4   IGPannonia  8  =  GVI  1853   no.  30  
GVI  1869   no.  10  
Smyrna  225  =  GVI  1884  =  SGO  1,  05/01/65  =  SEG  38,  1224  =   no.  31  
SEG  58,  1742    
IG  XIV  769  =  GVI  1883  =  SEG  37,  784-­‐786  =  SEG  44,  817   no.  32  
SGO  1,  02/14/06  
IG  VII  3110  =  GVI  1838  =  SEG  49,  2440  
GVI  1837  =  SEG  49,  2452279  
 
 

                                                                                                                         
279
 If  we  read  following  Peek;  Robinson  1905,  320  reads  as  a  monologue.  

  106  
4.  TYPE-­‐2  EPIGRAMS  

The   earliest   type-­‐2   verse   inscriptions   date   to   the   1st   or   2nd   centuries   BCE.   The   vast  
majority   of   them,   however,   date   to   the   1st,   2nd   and   3rd   centuries   CE.280  The   latest  
example,  on  the  other  hand,  dates  to  the  6th  century  CE.  It  is  clear  that,  in  the  period  
when   type   2   was   popular,   the   literary   epigram   was   already   a   steady   and   blooming  
phenomenon,   and   type   2   seems   to   exhibit   some   literary   influence   on   verse  
inscriptions.281  Thirtyone  of  the  epigrams  in  this  dialogue  epigram  corpus  are  type  2  
(28%).   Type-­‐2   epigrams   consist   of   several   adjacency   pairs:   X   –   Y   n.   The   minimum  
amount  of  pairs  is  naturally  two,  but  in  most  of  the  type-­‐2  epigrams,  there  are  more.  
In  the  paradigm  above,  n  marks  the  varying  number  of  pairs.    

There  may  also  be  extra  turns  in  addition  to  the  pairs.  These  extra  turns  occur  
in   11   type-­‐2   epigrams.   In   nine   of   these,   there   is   one   extra   turn   in   each,   either   at   the  
beginning  (three  cases)  or  at  the  end  of  the  epigram  (six  cases).  In  addition  to  this,  
two  epigrams  contain  two  extra  turns  each.282  The  extra  turns  are,  for  example,  an  
opening  statement,  an  opening  greeting,  a  closing  greeting  without  a  response  or  a  
closing   wish   without   a   response.   There   may   also   be   a   closing   greeting   pair,   a   wish  
pair   or   a   statement–response   pair   after   a   question–answer   structure.   These   are  
more  frequent  than,  for  example,  opening  greetings.    

I   will   discuss   all   of   these   variants   of   pair   structure   and   provide   examples   in  
Section  4.2.,  but  before  that  I  will  analyse  the  language  use  of  type  2  in  Section  4.1.  
First,   I   will   discuss   the   core   elements   of   the   type   and   sum   up   the   similarities   of   their  
structure   to   that   of   type-­‐1   epigrams.   I   will   then   proceed   to   examine   the   use   of  
particles   (4.1.1),   since   this   is   particularly   characteristic   of   the   structure   of   type-­‐2  
epigrams   and   essential   for   the   cohesion   of   the   texts;   this   section   is   quite   brief.  
Following   this,   I   will   discuss   other   features   of   language,   present   examples   and  
analyse  the  language,  including  the  use  of  particles  in  further  examples  (4.1.2).    

                                                                                                                         
280 nd st
 The  earliest  ones  are  IG  IX  1,  878,  dated  to  199–150  BCE;  GVI  1859  from  2 /1  century  BCE;  and    
st st rd th  
GVI  1862  from  1  century  BCE/1  century  CE.  Of  the  late  ones,  GVI  1887  is  dated  to  3 /4 century  CE  
th
and  SGO  4,  21/23/06  to  6  century  CE.  In  addition  to  these,  GVI  1848,  GVI  1858  and  SGO  3,  16/08/01  
are  undated.  
281
 For  comparison:  ca  38%  of  fictive  dialogue  epigrams  are  t2.  
282
 cf.  the  table  at  the  end  of  Section  4.4.  

  107  
 After   discussing   type-­‐2   verse   inscriptions,   I   will   scrutinise   the   connections  
between  type-­‐2  verse  inscriptions  and  non-­‐inscribed  epigrams  (4.3).  The  division  into  
fictional  and  non-­‐fictional  epigrams  is  of  course  somewhat  arbitrary;  for  example,  an  
epigram   written   by   Antipater   Sidon   (AG   7.164)   was   also   cut   into   stone   (GVI   1843,  
Saqqarah,   Egypt;   no.   14   in   this   chapter).   In   many   epigrams,   certain   patterns   and  
wordings   are   repeated   (more   so   than   in   type   1),   which   has   its   roots   in   the   earlier  
verse-­‐inscription   tradition.   These   repeated   patterns   are   visible   in   both   verse  
inscriptions  and  non-­‐inscribed  epigrams,  and  the  similarities  between  them  show  a  
mutual  influence.  

4.1  Building  conversations  in  the  multiple-­‐turn  epigrams    

The   core   element   of   type-­‐2   epigrams   is   the   question–answer   pair.   Each   type-­‐2  
epigram   has   at   least   one   question–answer   pair,   most   of   them   several,   and  
approximately   half   of   the   type-­‐2   epigrams   consist   solely   of   question–answer   pairs.  
Other  adjacency  pairs  frequently  found  are  pairs  of  wishes  at  the  end  of  epigrams.  In  
addition  to  the  pairs,  a  sole  greeting  turn  or  a  sole  wish  turn  attached  to  the  multi-­‐
pair  epigram  (i.e.  +1)  can  also  occur.  

The  length  of  the  turns  in  type  2  varies.  Some  epigrams  contain,  for  example,  
6–8   short   and   succinct   adjacency   pairs   and   some   contain   2–3   pairs   consisting   of  
longer  turns.  It  is  not  unusual  to  have  a  turn  that  does  not  form  a  whole  sentence,  
but  is  just  one  word  or  a  little  more.  On  the  other  hand,  turns  that  are  several  verses  
long   also   occur,   and   in   some   examples,   all   the   turns   of   the   epigram   contain   many  
verses.   Of   course,   variation   may   occur   within   an   epigram:   there   might   be,   for  
example,   several   pairs   with   short   turns   and   then   one   long   reply   turn   to   a   short  
question.  In  other  words,  all  of  the  combinations  of  pair  structures  we  saw  in  type  
1283  are   possible   in   type-­‐2   epigrams,   and   several   of   them   may   occur   within   one  
epigram.    

As   the   examples   in   the   following   section   will   show,   many   features   used   in  
type-­‐1   epigrams   may   also   be   seen   in   type   2,   especially   in   the   opening   turns:  
                                                                                                                         
283
 Variants  in  Section  3.2.  

  108  
interrogative  pronouns,  imperatives  and  addresses  occur  frequently.  In  the  following  
turns   also,   especially   in   question   turns,   the   structures   are   often   similar   to   certain  
type-­‐1   structures.   It   is   a   characteristic   of   type-­‐2   epigrams   that   particles   are   used  
both   to   separate   certain   units   (and   parts   within   the   units)   and   to   link   larger   units  
together.    

 
4.1.1  Particles  

In   the   dialogue   consisting   of   several   adjacency   pairs,   particles   are   used   to   link   the  
units  to  one  other.  They  can  connect  turns,  for  example  a  reply  to  a  statement,  or  a  
question   turn   to   previous   questions.   On   the   other   hand,   they   separate   units,   for  
example   a   wish   pair   from   a   series   of   question–answer   pairs,   or   a   cluster   of   new  
information  following  the  previous  information  within  a  turn.  Hence,  particles  guide  
the  audience.    

In   Greek   inscriptions,   a   certain   set   of   particles   is   commonly   used.   In   other  

words,  certain  particles  are  frequent,  but  the  variety  is  not  large.  Morpurgo  Davies  
points   out   that,   prior   to   400   BCE,   only   καί,   δέ,   τε   and   τε...   καί   combinations   occur  
frequently  in  inscriptions.  In  addition  to  these,  ἀλλά  and  μέν  occur  relatively  often,  
and   the   rest   of   the   particles   less   so.284  Dialogue   epigrams   show   similar   tendencies.  
Morpurgo   Davies’   data   consists   of   Arcadian   texts,   whereas   the   present   material  
comes  from  a  wide  area,  and  most  of  it,  especially  in  type  2,  is  several  centuries  later  
than  hers,  but  the  basic  situation  is  the  same:  only  a  few  particles  are  frequent,  and  
connectors  are  essential.    

In   type   2,   the   particles   are   abundant   in   number,   but   the   same   particles   are  
repeated,  while  others  are  rare.  The  most  frequent  particles  in  the  data  are  δέ  and  
καί  –  they  may  occur  several  times  even  within  one  epigram.  Others  that  occur  more  
than   once   or   twice   are   ἀλλά,   γάρ   and   γέ,   along   with   the   prohibitives   μή   and   οὐκ.  
Certain   particles   may   have   several   usages,   for   example   δέ   can   be   a   connector,   it   can  
be   adversative   or   it   can   introduce   a   question   about   a   new   topic,   and   so   on.   While  
connectives  are  frequent,  each  of  them  may  have  other  functions  as  well.    

                                                                                                                         
284
 Morpurgo  Davies  1997,  51.  

  109  
 I  would  also  like  to  point  out  that,  because  certain  particles  and  patterns  are  
frequent,  the  particles  for  their  part  make  it  easier  to  mark,  for  example,  a  change  of  
speaker.  Particles  do  not  necessarily  mark  the  change  itself,  but  the  patterns  formed  
with  them  made  it  easier  for  the  reader  or  listener  to  distinguish  the  speakers  and  
the  units  of  each  speaker  (both  the  turns  and  the  units  within  the  turns).    

When  discussing  type-­‐1  examples,  I  briefly  mentioned  the  use  of  particles  in  
some  cases.285  In  those  epigrams,  ἀλλά  occurred  several  times,  and  we  find  similar  
use   in   some   type-­‐2   epigrams.286  In   the   dialogue,   it   very   often   separates   clusters   of  
information  within  one  turn,  as  we  have  seen,287  but  it  may  also  introduce  a  new  pair  
type,  as  the  examples  will  show.  The  most  frequent  particle  in  type  2,  however,  is  δέ.  
It  is  a  connective  with  both  continuative  and  adversative  functions.288  The  main  use  
of   δέ   in   type-­‐2   epigrams   concerns   the   question   turns,   and   it   is   most   often  
accompanied   by   an   interrogative.289  In   such   cases,   the   particle   links   the   question  
turn   to   a   chain   of   questions,   i.e.   it   introduces   a   new   question   connected   with   the  
previous  ones.290  In  each  epigram,  it  first  occurs  in  the  second  or  third  question  turn,  
and  from  there  on  it  can  vary:  it  may  be  used  in  every  question  turn  or  in  every  other  
one.  The  closest  semantic  meaning  of  δέ  in  such  contexts  is:  ‘what  about…’.  Hence,  it  
both  connects  the  discourse  units  and,  as  Bakker  states,  works  as  a  boundary.291    

In   reply   turns,   δέ   is   used,   for   example,   in   cases   where   several   questions   have  
been  asked  in  one  turn,  and  they  are  all  replied  to  in  one  turn;  for  example:    
                                                                                                                         
285
 See  nos.  4,  7,  8  and  18  in  Chapter  3.  
286
 There  are  also  particles  in  t1,  but  they  are  more  frequent  in  t2.  Within  the  turns,  the  use  of  
particles  is  similar  to  t2  (e.g.  δέ  is  used  to  mark  the  transition  to  a  new  question,  but  in  t1,  this  
happens  in  one  turn,  whereas  in  t2  the  questions  are  spread  over  several  question  turns  [in  several  
adjacency  pairs]).  In  t2,  the  particles  have  a  more  significant  role  in  connecting  the  turns  and  the  pairs  
together,  and  because  of  that  I  chose  to  discuss  the  particles  in  more  detail  in  this  chapter  and  to  
mention  only  briefly  the  few  particle  examples  in  Chapter  3.  
287
 It  takes  the  first  place  in  the  sentence,  and  it  has  a  strong  adversative  tone,  although  it  may  also  be  
progressive,  as  we  saw  in  the  t1  epigrams.    
288
 Denniston  1951,  162.  Bakker  1993b,  277  points  out  that  the  term  ‘connective  particle’  is  a  
traditional  grammatical  term,  and  he  concentrates  more  on  its  function  in  the  structure  of  discourse.  
For  postpositives  (e.g.  particles  like  γάρ,  γε  and  δέ,  among  others),  see  Dik  1995,  32–4.  
289
 ‘The  speaker  proceeds  from  the  known  to  the  unkown,  and  δέ  denotes  that  the  information  he  
already  possesses  is  inadequate’:  Denniston  1951  ,  173.  
290
 Denniston  1951,  171:  ‘In  dialogue,  when  one  question  has  been  answered,  and  a  second  question  
asked  (introduced  by  de  or  some  other  connecting  particle),  the  second  answer  is  sometimes  
introduced  by  de.  The  use  of  a  connective  in  such  a  case,  though  not  necessary,  is  natural  enough,  in  
Greek  as  in  English’.  
291
 Bakker  1993b,  277.  For  the  connectivity  between  the  units,  see  Blakemoore  2004,  232  and  221–2.  

  110  
 Q:  τίς;  πόθεν;  —  A:  οὔνομα  Χ,  πατρίς  δέ  Y.    

In   such   cases,   δέ   shifts   the   focus   from   one   (new)   fact   to   another.   Ruijgh   calls   this  
‘transitive’.292  Similarly,   there   is   a   transitional   contrast   in   μέν–δέ   structures.293  In  
dialogue  epigrams,  this  structure  is  used  in  response  turns,  and  it  also  marks  a  shift  
from  one  part  of  the  answer  to  another.  

Another   frequent   particle   is   the   connective   καί,   especially   in   greeting   and  

wish  pairs,  as  the  first  word  of  the  second  (response)  turn:  

NN  χαῖρε.—  χαῖρε  καὶ  σύ-­‐-­‐-­‐    

     /  —  καὶ  σύ  γε-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐              

While  δέ  connects  the  discourse  units  to  the  preceding  one(s),  καί  functions  within  
the   unit   as   a   continuative. 294  On   the   level   of   the   pairs,   καί   often   connects,   for  
example,   information   segments   to   one   other   within   a   certain   turn,   but   it   may   also  
link  the  parts  of  the  adjacency  pair,  as  in  the  example  of  the  greetings  above.  

The   particles   ἀλλά,   γάρ   and   γε   also   occur   in   dialogue   epigrams,   but   less  
frequently   than   the   two   mentioned   above.   Other   particles   aside   from   the   ones  
mentioned  in  this  chapter  occur  sporadically.  

The   following   rather   long   epigram   from   Athens   is   an   excellent   example   of  

particle  use.295  In  this  epigram,  the  particles  are  frequent,  and  not  only  δέ,  but  also  
other  particles,  are  used  to  organise  the  text:  

 
 1.   Κλαύδιος  Χαρίτων  Περίνθιος.  
τίς  πόθεν  ὢν  ἐνταῦθα  ὑπὸ  χθονὶ  τῇδε  τέθαψαι;  —  
οὔνομα  μὲν  Χαρίτων,  πάτρη  δέ  μοί  ἐστι  Πέρινθος.  —  

                                                                                                                         
292
 Ruijgh  1971,  128–30.  For  descriptive  approaches  to  δέ,  see  Ruijgh  and  also  Kühner  and  Gerth  1904,  
261–3.  
293
 Bakker  1993b,  303.  
294
 Bakker  1993b,  277  and  288.  
295 2
 I  read  the  squeeze  in  Berlin  (archive  of  IG),  but  I  present  no  new  readings.  cf.  IG  II/III  10073,  GVI  
nd rd
1864,  Athens,  2 /3  century  CE.  The  beginning  of  this  epigram  is  discussed  in  Chapter  2  (no.  16),  but  
there  I  present  only  the  first  lines  and  discuss  them  from  the  perspective  of  connections  between  the  
title  and  the  epigram.  cf.  Sayar  1998.  

  111  
 πῶ<ς  δ>ὲ  καὶ  ἐνταῦθ᾽  ἦλθες  ἐπὶ  πτολίεθρον  Ἀθήνης;  —  
           5     εἵνεκεν  εὐνοίης  ξυντρόφῳ  ἑσπόμενος.  —  
 
τίς  δέ  σε  ὠκυμόροιο  φάους  ἀπενόσφισε  νοῦσος;—    
αἰφνίδιον  φρεῖκος  καὶ  κρατερὸς  πυρετός.  —  
πόσσων  δ᾽  ἦς  ἐτέων,  ὅτ᾽  ἀπέφθισο  τῇδ᾽  ἐνὶ  γαίῃ;  —  
πέμπτῳ  κεἰκοστῷ  μοῖραν  ἔτλην  στυγερήν.  —  
 
       10     ἆ  δείλ᾽,  οὐδ᾽  ἔφθης  ἣν  πατρίδα  γαῖαν  ἱκέσθαι;  —  
τῇδε  γὰρ  ἐν  γαίῃ  μοῖραν  ἐχρῆν  τελέσαι.  —  
σῆμα  δέ  σοι  τί<ς>  ἔτευξε  <κ>αὶ  τάρχυσέν  σε  θανόντα;  —  
ξύντροφος,  ᾧ  ἑπόμην  ἐνθάδε  ἐρχομένῳ.  —  
τίς  δέ  σοι  ἐν  ζωοῖσι  γένους  ἀπολείπεται  σῶος;  —  
 
       15     μοῦνος  ἀδελφός  μοι  λείπεται  ἐγ  γενεῆς.  —  
ἀλλ᾽οὖν  κἂν  κεῖνόν  γε  θεοὶ  σώζοιεν  ἐς  ἀεί.  —  
καὶ  σὺ  φιληγορίης  ἄξια  δῶρα  λάβοις.  

Claudius  Chariton  from  Perinthus.  

Who   and   from   where   are   you,   (you   who   are)   buried   here   under   the   earth?   —   My  
name  is  Chariton,  my  fatherland  Perinthus.  —  And  how  did  you  come  here,  to  the  city  
of   Athena,   then?   —   Because   out   of   good   will   I   followed   my   companion.   —   Which  
disease  robbed  you  of  the  light,  prematurely?  —  A  sudden  shivering  and  severe  fever.  
—   How   old   were   you   when   you   died   (and   went)   here   under   the   ground?   —   In   my  
25th   year   I   suffered   the   miserable   lot.   —   Poor   wretch,   did   you   not   reach   your  
fatherland  before  that?  —  It  was  my  fate  to  face  the  end  of  my  life  in  this  land.  —  
And  who  built  this  monument  for  you  and  buried  you  solemnly  when  you  had  died?  
—   A   companion   whom   I   followed   when   he   was   coming   here.   —   And   who   of   your  
family  is  left  behind  alive?  —  Of  my  family  only  a  brother  is  left.  —  Well,  then,  may  
the   gods   save   at   least   him   forever.   —   And   may   you   receive   gifts   worthy   of   your  
friendly  attitude.    

 
The  speakers  here  are  the  passerby  and  the  deceased.  Throughout  the  epigram,  both  
questions   and   answers   are   rather   simple,   and   are   one   verse   each.   The   metre   and  
conversation   are   hence   synchronised   (stichomythic):   each   turn   consists   of   one   verse,  

  112  
so   one   pair   is   always   two   verses   long   –   Q:   hexameter,   A:   pentameter.   The   same  
applies  to  the  last  pair,  which  is  a  pair  of  wishes.  Hence,  each  adjacency  pair  (eight  in  
total)  forms  an  elegiac  distich.  
After   the   title   line,   the   epigram   begins   with   a   question   turn   in   line   2:   τίς  
πόθεν  ὢν-­‐-­‐-­‐.  The  question  is  asked  by  the  passerby.  There  are  two  interrogatives  in  a  
row  in  this  turn,  and,  as  in  many  type-­‐1  epigrams,  these  two  questions  are  replied  to  
in  one  answer  turn,  i.e.  all  this  information  is  given  within  one  adjacency  pair.  In  this  
opening   turn,   the   interrogatives   are   accompanied   by   the   participle   ὢν,   i.e.   τίς   πόθεν  
ὢν,   followed   by   the   deictic   ἐνταῦθα   ὑπὸ   χθονὶ   τῇδε,   after   which   follows   the   verb  
τέθαψαι.   The   use   of   the   second   person   singular   (τέθαψαι)   indicates   that   the  
addressee  is  the  deceased.  The  deceased  then  replies  to  τίς  πόθεν  (the  second  turn),  
and  in  this  turn  the  μὲν–δέ  structure  is  used  to  separate  the  information  clusters  of  
this  reply:  οὔνομα  μὲν  Χαρίτων,  πάτρη  δέ  μοί  ἐστι  Πέρινθος.    
The  particles  are  also  used  in  the  second  question  turn  (l.  4):  πῶ<ς  δ>ὲ  καὶ-­‐-­‐-­‐.  
Here,   δέ   introduces   another   question,   and   καὶ   links   this   unit   with   the   previous  
adjacency   pair.296  The   reply   to   this   begins   with   εἵνεκεν   in   line   5:   εἵνεκεν   εὐνοίης  
ξυντρόφῳ   ἑσπόμενος.   This   makes   it   easy   to   note   the   beginning   of   the   reply:   the  
question   is   why   or   how   the   deceased   is   buried   in   this   land,   and   the   answer   turn  
begins  with  because,  and  then  gives  the  explanation.  
The  next  two  questions  (ll.  6  and  8)  comprise  an  interrogative  +  δέ:  in  line  6,  
τίς   δέ   σε   -­‐-­‐-­‐   ἀπενόσφισε-­‐-­‐-­‐;   and   in   line   8,   πόσσων   δ᾽   ἦς   ἐτέων-­‐-­‐-­‐.   In   both   of   these  
verses,  δέ  introduces  a  new  question  turn.  After  these  two  pairs,  the  question  in  line  
10   begins   with   ἆ   δείλ᾽   οὐδ᾽-­‐-­‐-­‐.   The   exclamation   and   address   ἆ   +   δείλ᾽   shows   the  
direction  of  the  speech  (PB  -­‐>  DEC),  and  οὐδ᾽  links  this  turn  to  the  chain  of  questions.  
In   the   reply   turn,   γὰρ   is   used   when   the   deceased   explains   the   situation:   τῇδε   γὰρ   ἐν  
γαίῃ  μοῖραν  έχρῆν  τελέσαι  –  It  was  my  fate….[and  that  is  why].  The  particle  marks  
this  passage  as  an  explanation  which  differs  from  the  main  story  line.297  In  the  last  
two  questions,  δέ  is  still  used:  in  line  12,  σῆμα  δέ  σοι  τί<ς>  ἔτευξε-­‐-­‐-­‐,  and  in  line  14,  
τίς  δέ  σοι-­‐-­‐-­‐ἀπολείπεται.  There  is  also  some  kind  of  repetition  here:  

                                                                                                                         
296
 As  noted  by,  e.g.,  Wakker  2009,  63,  ‘it  is  generally  agreed  that  (connective)  particles  play  an  
important  role  in  marking  the  transition  from  one  discourse  unit  to  another…‘.    
297
 cf.  Bakker,  2009,  41.  In  other  words,  γάρ  is  used  to  introduce  further  explanation.    

  113  
 l.  14:    τίς  δέ  σοι  ἐν  ζωοῖσι  γένους  ἀπολείπεται  σῶος;  
l.  15:    μοῦνος  ἀδελφός  μοι  λείπεται  ἐγ  γενεῆς.  
The   core   element   of   the   information   is   given   directly   at   the   beginning   of   the   answer  
turns:   τίς-­‐-­‐-­‐   -­‐>   ξύντροφος   (l.   13)   and   τίς-­‐-­‐-­‐   -­‐>   μοῦνος   ἀδελφός   (l.   15).   It   is   hence   easy  
to  follow  the  change  of  speaker.    
After  seven  question–answer  pairs  (ll.  1–15),  there  is  a  pair  of  wishes,  and  the  
passerby   directs   the   recipient’s   attention   towards   the   wish   pair   with   particles   that  
link  the  turn  to  the  previous  (l.  16):  ἀλλ᾽  οὖν  κἂν  κεῖνόν  γε-­‐-­‐-­‐.  The  wish  that  follows  is  
in  the  optative,  as  usual:  θεοὶ  σώζοιεν  ἐς  ἀεὶ.298  In  the  previous  turn,  the  deceased  
stated  that  he  left  behind  a  brother,  and  here  the  passerby  wishes  that  the  brother  
of   the   deceased   would   live   forever   (symbolically).   The   deceased   replies   by   hoping  
that   the   passerby   would   get   a   reward   for   such   kindness   to   his   brother,   καὶ   σὺ  
φιληγορίης  ἄξια  δῶρα  λάβοις.  This  begins  with  a  particle  (καὶ  σὺ  structure)  and  ends  
with  an  optative,  λάβοις.  As  a  whole,  the  wish  pair  consists  of:  ἀλλ᾽  οὖν  κἂν  κεῖνόν  
γε  θεοὶ  σώζοιεν  ἐς  ἀεὶ  –  καὶ  σὺ  φιληγορίης  ἄξια  δῶρα  λάβοις.    
To  sum  up,  the  particles  used  in  this  epigram  are:299  
 
 
Table  5:  Particles  in  epigram  no.  1  of  Chapter  4  
δέ   lines  3,  4,  6,  8,  12,  14   either   marks   the   information   clusters   within   a   turn  
(l.   3,   μέν–δέ   structure)   or   marks   a   new   question  
turn  (the  rest  of  the  occurrences)  
μεν   line  3   see  above  

καί   lines  4,  7,  12,  16,  17   connects  the  turns  to  the  previous  one  (ll.  4,  12  
[within  the  transition  to  new  type  of  pair]  and  17)  or  
information  within  a  turn  (ll.  7,  12)  

line  10,  cf.  δέ  οὐδέ  

that  i    line  cf.  
10  δ   έ  that    cf  cf.  δέ    cf.  δέ  introducing  a  new  question  

γάρ   line  11   explanatory  in  answer  

ἀλλά   line  16   marks  the  transition  to  the  wish  pair  (from  the  Q–A  
pairs)  

                                                                                                                         
298
 Optative  is  the  most  commonly  used  mood  in  wishes.  
299
 I  have  collected  all  of  them  in  this  table  in  order  to  make  the  usage  clear;  I  will  not,  however,  
provide  particle  tables  for  each  epigram  in  this  chapter,  but  I  will  analyse  the  particles  in  the  text.  

  114  
γε   line  16   emphasises  the  transition  marked  by  ἀλλά  at  the  
beginning  of  the  sentence;  also  connected  with  the  
pronoun  κεῖνόν  γε  

 
 
In   the   following   epigram,   the   length   of   the   verses   varies   from   half   a   verse   to   several  
verses  each,  and  particles  are  frequent  in  this  one  as  well:300  
 

2.  
Αἴθαλος  Ἐλάτηι  τῆι  |  ἑαυτοῦ  γυναικὶ  φιλοσ|τοργίας  καὶ  μνήμης  |  αἰωνίου  χάριν.  
φράζε,  γύναι,  γενεήν,  ὄνομα,  χθόνα,  πῶς  δὲ  θανοῦσα    
     ἦλθες  δειλαία  δύσγαμος  εἰς  Ἀίδαν,  
ὅππως  οἱ  παράγοντες  ἀναγνώωσιν  ὁδεῖται  
     τὴν  σὴν  οἰκτροτάτην  δύσμορον  ἡλικίην.  —  
             5     εἰμὶ  μὲν  ἐκ̣ ̣  [Λυδῶν],  γενεὴ  δέ  μοί  ἐστι  Θυάτειρα,  
     οὔνομά  [μοι  δ᾽  Ἐλά]τη{ι},  τὸ  φίλοι  διέθεντο  τροφῆες.  —  
σῆμα  δὲ  [τίς]  τό[δ᾽  ἔχωσ]εν;  —  ἐμὸς  πόσις  ὁ  πρὶν  ἄθικτα  
     ἡμετέρης  λύσας{ας}  ἅμματα  παρθενίης.  
ὤλεσε  δ᾽οὐ  τοκετός  με  λυγρός,  Μοῖραι  δὲ  ῥοπῇ  μοι  
         10    εἰς  νόσον,  εἰς  πένθη{ι}  καὶ  μόρον  ἠντίασαν.  —  
ἦ  καὶ  ἄπαις;  —  οὐ,  ξεῖνε.  λέλοιπα  γὰρ  ἐν  νεότητι  
       τ[ρι]σσοὺς  ἀρτιγενεῖς  παῖδας  ἐν  ὀρφανίῃ.  —  
εἶεν  ἐν  ὀλβίστηι  πολιῆι  τριχί.  hedera  —καὶ  σόν,  ὁδεῖτα,  
     εὔδιον  εὐθύνοι  πάντα  τύχη{ι}  βίοτον.  
           15     ὅστις  ἐμεῦ  στήλλαν  βαλέει  λίθον  οὐκ  ἀδικηθείς,  
   οὗτος  τὰν  αὐτὰν  μοῖραν  ἐμοὶ  λαχέτω.  
 

                                                                                                                         
300 st
 SGO  3,  16/55/03;  cf.  GVI  1870  =  GG  431,  Philomelion  (Phrygia),  1  century  CE.  SGO  follows  the  turn  
division  given  by  Anderson  1898,  112,  which  is  the  one  I  give  here.  The  edition  by  Peek  is  slightly  
different  (his  reading  of  the  seventh  verse  also  differs  from  this).  See  also  Calder  1932,  455–6,  esp.  for  
line  11  (v.  7).  There  are  similarities  to  this  epigram  in  AG  7.164  by  Antipater  of  Sidon,  e.g.  the  first  
verse  up  until  χθόνα,  the  entirety  of  verse  11  and  some  verses  and  phrases  throughout  the  epigram.  
See  Gow  and  Page  for  a  detailed  analysis.  

  115  
Aithalos   for   his   wife   Elate   for   her   affectionateness,   and   for   the   sake   of   eternal  
memory.  
 
Tell,   woman,   your   family,   name,   country,   how   did   you   die,   and   how   did   you,  
wretched  and  ill-­‐wedded,  come  to  Hades  –  so  that  the  wanderers  who  pass  by  would  
read   (about)   your   most   sorrowful,   pitiful   young   age.   –   I   am   from   [Lydia],   but   my  
family   is   from   Thyateira,   and   [my]   name   given   by   my   beloved   rearers   is   [El]ate.   –  
[Who   erect]ed   this   monument?   –   My   husband,   who   once   loosened   the   untouched   tie  
of   my   virginity.   Baneful   delivery   did   not   kill   me;   the   Moiras   turned   me   violently   in  
disease,  sorrow  and  death.  –  Were  you  also  childless?  –  No,  stranger;  I  have  left  three  
young  children  orphans.  –  May  those  three  (live)  happily  (and)  get  gray  hair.  –  And  
may  fate  guide  you  straight  for  (your)  whole  life.  –  Whoever  throws  a  stone  on  my  
stele,  if  he  was  not  an  object  of  wrong-­‐doing,  may  he  have  the  same  destiny  as  I  did.  
 

The  speakers  in  this  epigram  are  the  passerby  and  the  deceased.  The  first  turn  is  by  
the  passerby,  and  it  is  four  verses  long.  It  begins  with  the  imperative  φράζε  and  the  
address   γύναι.   After   that,   everything   the   deceased   woman   should   tell   is   listed   in   the  
accusative.  This  is  similar  to  the  opening  turn  of  one  type-­‐1  epigram  (see  no.  10  in  
Chapter   3)   —   instead   of   the   interrogatives,   the   question   comprises   an   imperative  
and   accusatives.   Note   that   δέ   is   used   in   this   first:   φράζε,   γύναι,   γενεήν,   ὄνομα,  
χθόνα,  πῶς  δὲ  θανοῦσα-­‐-­‐-­‐.  Here,  δέ  links  together  the  parts  of  the  question:  Tell  abc,  
(and)  how  you  did  you  die-­‐-­‐.  
The  deceased  answers  these  multiple  questions  with  one  reply  turn,  starting  
from   line   5.   Again,   the   particles   are   used   to   structure   the   turn:   μέν–δέ   in   εἰμὶ   μὲν   ἐκ̣ ̣  
[Λυδῶν],  γενεὴ  δέ  μοί  ἐστι  Θυάτειρα.  After  this,  the  particle  δέ  is  used  on  its  own  
when   the   deceased   proceeds   to   tell   her   own   name   (οὔνομά   [μοι   δ᾽   Ἐλά]τη),   but   this  
of  course  is  a  restoration.301  This  question  turn,  as  well  as  the  following  two  verses,  
shows  how  δέ  especially  is  used  to  structure  the  sentences  and  to  organise  the  turns  
–  line  7:  σῆμα  δὲ,  and  line  9:  ὤλεσε  δ᾽.  In  these  cases,  it  introduces  the  new  question  
turn,  as  in  example  number  1  in  this  chapter.  When  used  in  this  way,  δέ  is  typically  
the  second  word  of  the  sentence.    

                                                                                                                         
301
 By  Calder  1932.  cf.  Calder  (idem),  452–64  for  the  curses  common  in  inscriptions  from  Phrygia  (cf.  ll.  
15–16).  

  116  
 In  line  11,  the  question  is  connected  to  the  previous  ones  by  καί  instead  of  
δέ:   ἦ   καὶ   ἄπαις;   The   answer   turn   also   begins   in   line   11,   and   the   passerby   is  
addressed  (ξεῖνε).  The  recipient  knows  by  now  who  the  speakers  are,  so  there  is  no  
need   to   identify   them,   but   with   the   address,   the   change   of   speaker   is   easier   to  
recognise.   This   reply   turn   begins   with   οὐ,   and   γὰρ   is   then   used:   οὐ,   ξεῖνε   λέλοιπα  
γὰρ  ἐν  νεότητι  /τρισσοὺς  ἀρτιγενεῖς  παῖδας  ἐν  ὀρφανίῃ  (no  stranger,  for  I  have  left  
three  young  children  orphans).  
The   last   adjacency   pair   of   this   epigram   is   a   pair   of   wishes,   composed   once  
again  of  optatives.  In  the  first  wish,  the  optative  is  εἶεν-­‐-­‐-­‐.  The  response  turn  begins  
with  a  particle  and  an  address  (καὶ  σόν,  ὁδεῖτα),  as  in  the  previous  epigram  and  the  
wishes   (cf.   καὶ   σύ   γε   structure   in   the   greetings)   and   optative   follow:   καὶ   σόν,   ὁδεῖτα,  
/   εὔδιον   εὐθύνοι   πάντα   τύχη   βίοτον.   After   thus   returning   the   wish,   the   deceased  
continues   (same   turn;   ll.   15–16),   but   he   directs   these   last   verses   to   the   passersby   on  
a   more   general   level:   ὅστις   ἐμεῦ   στήλλαν   βαλέει   λίθον   -­‐-­‐-­‐   τὰν   αὐτὰν   μοῖραν   ἐμοὶ  
λαχέτω.302  The  text  is  mostly  composed  of  elegiac  distichs,  but  the  end  of  verse  5  is  
not  metrically  correct  and  the  next  (i.e.  v.  6)  is  a  hexameter.  303  
In  the  following  epigram,  the  same  patterns  are  used  as  above,  but  a  
variation  of  the  question–answer  structure  occurs  in  the  first  verse:304  
 

3.     τίς  τίνος  ἦν  εἴρῃ,  Κλάδος  οὔνο-­‐  

μα·∙  καὶ  τίς  ὁ  θρέψας;|Μηνόφιλος.  
θνήσκω  δ᾽  ἐκ  τίνος;  —  ἐκ  πυρε-­‐  
τοῦ.  |—  κἀπὸ  πόσων  ἐτέων;  —  τρισ-­‐  
               5     καίδεκα.  —  ἆρά  γ᾽  ἄμουσος;  |  —  οὐ  τέ-­‐  
λεον,  Μούσαις  δ᾽  οὐ  μέγα  φει-­‐  
λάμενος,  |  ἔξοχα  δ᾽    Ἑρμείᾳ  με-­‐  
μελημένος·∙  ἐν  γὰρ  ἀγῶσιν  |  
πολλάκις  αἰνητὸν  στέμμα  

                                                                                                                         
302
 These  kinds  of  curses  on  grave  monuments  were  common  in  Phrygia.  
303
 Anderson  1898,  112.  As  Anderson  also  points  out,  ‘such  irregularities  sometimes  occur  in  these  
epigrams’.  This  applies  especially  to  the  epigrams  from  Asia  Minor.  
304 st st st nd
IMT  Olympene  2691  =  GVI  1862  =  SGO  2,  08/08/10,  1  century  BCE/  1  century  CE,  or  1 /2  
century  CE  (IMT,  Peek).  

  117  
          10     πάλας  ἔλαχον.  |  
Ἀπφία  ἡ  θάψασα  δ᾽  ἐμὴ  τροφός,  
ἥ  μοι  ἔτευξεν|  εἰκόνα  καὶ  τύμ-­‐  
            βῳ  σῆμ᾽  ἐπέθηκε  τόδε.  
 

If   you   ask,   ‘Who   and   whose’,   Klados   was   the   name.   ‘And   who   was   the   rearer?’   —  
Menophilus.   —   ‘And   what   caused   my   death?’   —   Fever.   —   ‘How   old   were   you?’   —  
Thirteen.   —   ‘And   were   you   unartistic?’   —   Not   completely,   but   the   Muses   did   not   like  
me  especially;  instead,  I  was  taken  care  of  by  Hermes  particularly.  In  competitions,  I  
often  obtained  a  praiseworthy  garland  in  wrestling.  Apphia,  who  buried  me,  was  my  
rearer;  she  erected  (this)  portrait  for  me  and  set  this  memorial  on  the  grave.  
 

What  about  the  speakers  in  this  epigram?  At  the  beginning,  the  deceased  says  if  you  
ask   who   and   whose   son   [I’ll   tell]:   Klados   was   the   name.305  This   is   arranged   with   ἦν  
εἴρῃ  and  the  interrogatives:  τίς  τίνος  ἦν  εἴρῃ,  Κλάδος  οὔνομα.  The  addressee  here  is  
the   passerby,   and   we   know   that   the   speaker   is   the   deceased   because   he   uses   the  
first   person   singular,   θνήσκω.   The   opening   sentence   includes   both   the   question   turn  
and   the   reply,   embedded   in   the   sentence   with   the   help   of   the   verbal   forms.   After  
this   turn,   the   epigram   seemingly   continues   like   a   ‘normal’   passerby–deceased  
epigram  with  four  adjacency  pairs.  Throughout  the  poem,  however,  the  thought  of  
‘if   you   ask   me’   is   linked   to   the   questions,   even   though   it   is   not   repeated   after   the  
initial  line.  This  is  especially  obvious  in  line  3,  where  the  first  person  singular  is  used:  
θνήσκω  δ᾽  ἐκ  τίνος;  -­‐-­‐-­‐  and  (if  you  ask)  how  did  I  die-­‐-­‐-­‐.    
In   this   epigram,   the   question   turns   are   short   and   the   particles   play   a  
significant   role   in   them.   In   the   first   question,   the   opening   turn   by   the   deceased,  
there   is   simply   a   double   interrogative   question   (τίς   τίνος),   but   after   that,   a   variety   of  
particles  are  used  to  build  up  the  question  turns  –  line  2:  καὶ  τίς-­‐-­‐-­‐;  line  3:  θνήσκω  δ᾽-­‐
-­‐-­‐;   line   4:   κἀπὸ   πόσων   ἐτέων;   and   line   5:   ἆρά   γ᾽;   In   other   words,   every   question   turn  
is  introduced  by  a  particle,  and  not  only  with  δέ,  but  with  a  variety  of  particles.  Also,  
particles  are  used  for  continuation  in  the  last  reply  turn,  which  is  five  verses  long  –  
line  6:  Μούσαις  δ᾽  οὐ-­‐-­‐-­‐;  line  7:  ἔξοχα  δ᾽  Ἑρμείᾳ-­‐-­‐-­‐;  line  8:  ἐν  γὰρ  ἀγῶσιν-­‐-­‐-­‐;  line  11:  

                                                                                                                         
305
 For  a  different  turn  division,  see  Peek  GVI  1862.  cf.  Rasche  1910,  33.  

  118  
Ἀπφία   ἡ   θάψασα   δ᾽-­‐-­‐-­‐;   and   line   12:   καὶ   τύμβῳ   σῆμ᾽-­‐-­‐-­‐. 306  In   this   passage,   δέ  
introduces  new  information  within  the  turn,  γάρ  is  connected  to  οὐ  (not…but)  and  
καί  connects  the  two  parallel  information  units.  
The   speaker   throughout   the   epigram   is   the   deceased,   who   refers   to   an  
imaginary,  potential  conversation.  Yet,  that  conversation  is  the  one  which  the  reader  
is   having   with   the   epitaph,   and,   as   the   structure,   except   for   verse   1,   is   identical   to  
the  type-­‐2  dialogue  epigrams,  I  wanted  to  include  the  epigram  here.307  The  epigram  
is  clearly  an  adaption  of,  and  heavily  influenced  by,  dialogue-­‐form  epigrams.308  
These  three  examples  show  some  basic  ways  of  using  the  particles  in  type-­‐2  
epigrams.   As   certain   particles   are   frequent,   I   will   discuss   further   examples   in   the  
following   section,   where   I   will   also   address   the   other   features   of   language   in   type  
2.309    
 

4.1.2  Language  of  type-­‐2  epigrams  

As   briefly   noted   already,   there   are   many   similarities   between   type-­‐1   and   type-­‐2  
epigrams   as   regards   the   language.   In   question   structures,   such   features   as  
interrogative-­‐only   questions   naturally   occur,   but   questions   with   address   and  
imperatives  are  also  frequent.  In  fact,  imperatives  are  more  frequently  used  in  the  
question   turns   in   type   2   than   in   type   1.   In   type   2,   different   kinds   of   question  
structures   are   applied,   i.e.   there   may   be   variation   within   one   epigram,   which   also  
helps   to   follow   the   conversation.   There   can   be,   for   example,   a   question   without   a  
marker,  followed  by  a  question  with  an  address.  On  the  level  of  the  whole  epigram,  
we  may  thus  see  several  structures  that  are  familiar  from  the  type-­‐1  epigrams.  

                                                                                                                         
306
 For  the  structure  of  this  turn,  see  the  third  variant  of  t1  with  answer  turns  that  offer  additional  
information.  
307
 Peek  indeed  includes  this  in  his  dialogue  section:  GVI  1862.  
308
 Compare  also  to  the  embedded  dialogues  of  t3;  see  Chapter  5.  
309
 For  particles  in  a  shorter  epigram,  see,  e.g.,  GVI  1848  and  AG  7.734  (anonymous):    
  Μή,  ξέν᾽  ὁδῖτα,  σπεῦδε.  —    τί  γάρ;  —  νέκυς,  ὧι  ποτὶ  παίδων    
τῶν  ἀγαθῶν  τὰ  φίλ᾽  ἦν,  Ἄρχις  ἐγὼν  ὁ  γέρων.  —  
ἀλλὰ  φίλος  γ᾽  ὦ  πρέσβυ,  γένοιτό  τοι  ὄλβια  τέκνα  
ἐλθεῖν  καὶ  λευκῆς  ἐς  δρόμον  ἡλικίης.  
In  this  epigram,  γάρ  reacts  to  the  opening  of  the  monument  and  introduces  the  question,  whereas  
ἀλλὰ  φίλος  γ᾽  introduces  the  closing  wish  after  the  Q  –  As.  

  119  
 In  our  next  example,  there  are  only  two  question–answer  pairs,  which  form  
three  verses:310  
 
4.     τεῦ  σ᾽  ἐνέπειν  χρῆν  τύμβον;  —  ἀγακλειτοῖο  Νέπ[ωτος].  
—  καὶ  τίς  Κεκροπιδῶν  γείνατο  τόνδε;  φράσον.  
—  οὐκ  ἦν  ἐκ  γαίης  Κεκροπηίδος,  ἀλλ᾽  ἀπὸ  Θρῄ[κης].  
 

Whose  tomb  should  you  say  this  is?  —  Of  the  very  famous  Nep[os].—  And  who  of  the  
sons  of  Cecrops  begot  him?  Tell.  —  He  was  not  from  the  Cecropean  land,  but  from  
Thrace.    

 
The  speakers  are  the  passerby  and  the  monument.  The  monument  is  the  addressee  
in  the  first  turn,  wherein  the  identity  of  the  deceased  is  requested.  The  monument  
then   answers   in   the   reply   turn:   ἀγακλειτοῖο   Νέπ[ωτος].   The   second   question   turn  
begins  with  the  particle  καὶ  and  ends  with  an  imperative:  καὶ  τίς  Κεκροπιδῶν  γείνατο  
τόνδε;  φράσον.  The  particle  links  the  question  with  the  previous  one,  and  it  is  clear  
that  the  speaker  changes  again  after  the  imperative  at  the  end  of  the  verse.  In  the  
reply  turn  to  this  (the  third  verse),  the  third  person  singular  is  used  for  telling  about  
the   deceased.   This   of   course   means   that   the   speaker   cannot   be   the   deceased.   In   the  
answer  turn,  the  question  (τίς  Κεκροπιδῶν)  elicits  the  response  that  he  was  not  from  
the   Cecropean   land   (οὐκ   ἦν   ἐκ   γαίης   Κεκροπηίδος)   but   from   Thrace:   ἀλλ᾽   ἀπὸ  
Θρῄ[κης].   The   passerby   has   assumed   that   the   deceased,   buried   in   Athens,   is   an  
Athenian,  but  the  monument  then  tells  he  was  not.  Even  though  the  word  referring  
to  the  Cecropids  is  not  exactly  the  same,  there  is  some  sort  of  repetition:  the  noun  
Κεκροπιδῶν  in  the  second  verse  (turn  of  the  passerby)  and  the  adjective  referring  to  
the  land  of  the  Cecropids,  Κεκροπηίδος  in  the  third  verse  (turn  of  the  monument).  
Perhaps  this  also  helped  to  mark  the  change  of  speaker.  
It  is  also  noteworthy  that  there  are  several  epic  forms  in  the  first  sentence:  
τεῦ,   the   verb   ἐνέπειν   and   the   genitive   ἀγακλειτοῖο.   The   particular   verb   ἐνέπειν   is  

                                                                                                                         
310 2
 My  own  edition,  based  on  autopsy;  Athens.  cf.  IG  II/III  8918  and  GVI  1847,  Athens.  On  the  basis  of  
st nd rd
the  letterforms,  I  date  it  to  the  1  century  CE.  (Peek/IG  2 –3  century  CE).  cf.  Rasche  1910,  33.  

  120  
used  in  the  opening  line  of  the  Odyssey:  ἄνδρα  μοι  ἔννεπε,  μοῦσα311,  but  whether  
the  verb  here  is  a  deliberate  hint  to  it  we  cannot  tell.  
Another  type-­‐2  epigram,  this  one  dating  to  the  6th  century  CE,  also  contains  
three  verses:312  
 

5.     ψηφίς,  τίς  σ᾽  ἀνέθηκεν;  —  ὁ  δώματα  ταῦτα  τελέσσας.  

—    τίς  δ᾽  ὁ  γραφεὶς  ποιμήν;  τίνος  εἵνεκα  ἔργα  πιφαύσκει;  
—    οὔνομ᾽  Ἀναστάσιο̣ς̣  [Π]ετρὰ  πτόλις,  ε[̣ ὖ]χος  ὁ  σωτήρ.  
 

Pebble  mosaic,  who  dedicated  you?  —  The  one  who  completed  this  building.  —And  
who  is  the  shepherd  (=  bishop)  pictured  here?  For  what  is  the  building  declared?  —  
The  name  is  Anastasios,  the  town  is  [P]etra,  the  object  of  p[r]ayer  is  the  Saviour.  

The  speakers  are  the  passerby  and  the  monument;  the  monument  is  the  dedicated  
mosaic.   There   are   two   question–answer   pairs:   one   pair   in   the   first   verse,   another  
question  turn  (two  question  moves)  in  the  second  verse  and  a  reply  turn  in  the  third  
verse.313  The   passerby   begins   with   a   simple   address   and   an   interrogative   question:  
ψηφίς,   τίς   σ᾽   ἀνέθηκεν;   No   name   is   given   in   the   reply   turn,   just:   ὁ   δώματα   ταῦτα  
τελέσσας,  i.e.  the  builder  (or  commissioner)  in  participle  form.  The  second  question  
is   built   with   τίς   δ᾽,   and   τίνος   εἵνεκα   follows:   τίς   δ᾽   ὁ   γραφεὶς   ποιμήν;   τίνος   εἵνεκα  
ἔργα  πιφαύσκει;  The  question  is  asked  here  twice,  but  with  different  wording.314  The  
answer  to  the  question(s)  is  given  in  the  second  turn,  which  is  also  the  final  verse:  
Anastasios   was   the   bishop   who   founded   the   church   where   this   mosaic   was   found.315  
Particles  could  have  been  used  to  segment  the  reply  turn,  but  were  not.  

                                                                                                                         
311
 Epic  forms  are  naturally  not  uncommon  in  the  epigrams  of  the  Roman  period  either.  Furthermore,  
the  reference  to  the  beginning  of  the  Odyssey  can  be  found  at  least  in  no.  25  in  Chapter  3:  ἄνδρα  μοι  
ἔννεπε,  κοῦρε·∙-­‐-­‐-­‐.  Tell  +  address  is  a  combination  that  easily  raises  this  connotation.  
312 th
 SGO  4,  21/23/06,  6  century  CE,  Gerasa,  Palestine.  This  and  no.  4  consist  of  hexameters.  For  yet  
another  three-­‐pair  epigram,  see  IG  X  2,  1,  464  =  GVI  1865  which  has  two  short  pairs  and  a  third  pair  
with  a  longer  (3.5  verses)  reply  turn.  
313
 Verse  1:  Q  –  A;  verse  2:  Q;  verse  3:  A.  
314
 cf.  nos.  2,  3,  5,  27  and  29  in  Chapter  3.  
315
 The  Church  of  Peter  and  Paul  in  Gerasa.  The  picture  of  Anastasius  was  painted  on  the  wall  of  the  
church,  and  the  mosaic  was  on  the  floor  below  it:  see  Mango  1986,  29.  Instead  of  [Π]ετρά  πτολις,  the  
first  editors  give  [τ]ετρά  πτολις.  See  Welles  (following  A.  H.  M.  Jones)  1938,  no.  330.  The  restoration  
here  follows  SGO,  based  on  Feissel.  

  121  
   The   following   is   yet   another   short   type-­‐2   epigram,   this   time   an   honorary  
one:316    

6.     Ἀττίνα.    τίς  σε  |  ἄνστησε;  hedera  —  Μα|κηδόνες.  —  ἀνθ’  ὅτου  φράζαι.  

  —  ἀνθ’  ὑγιοῦς  γνώ|μης  καὶ  χερὸς  |  ἁγνοτάτης.  hedera  
 
Attinas,   who   erected   you?   —   The   Macedonians.   —   For   what?   Tell.   —   For   sound  
judgement  and  a  very  uncorrupt  hand.  

 
The   speakers   in   this   dialogue   are   the   passerby   and   the   honoured   man   who   is  
depicted   in   the   statue.   The   same   monument   also   contains   a   prose   text   (A).317  The  
prose   section   reveals   that   the   monument   is   for   M.   Aurelius   Attinas,   and   also   reveals  
by  whom  it  was  dedicated  and  why  it  was  set  up.    

The  name  of  Aurelius  Attinas  is  given  in  the  vocative  at  the  beginning  of  the  
epigram,  but  after  that,  the  addressee  is  the  monument:  τίς  σε   ἄνστησε.  How  should  
we   approach   the   first   word,   Ἀττίνα,   then?   Does   this   belong   to   the   turn   of   a  
passerby?   Probably,   as   after   the   first   word,   Ἀττίνα,   the   speaker   is   most   likely   the  
passerby.318  In  this  turn,  the  question  comprises  an  interrogative  +  σέ  +  verb:  τίς  σε  
ἄνστησε;   The   idea   is   to   ask   who   has   erected   the   monument   to   Attinas,   but   the  
direction   of   the   speech   is   slightly   vague   (speech   is   directed   to   Attinas/the  
monument).  The  answer  turn  consists  of  one  word  only:  Μακηδόνες.  The  next  turn  
is   also   a   question   turn,   and   it   begins   with   the   preposition   ἀνθ᾽.   A   direct   question  
would  be  ἀντί  τίνος,  but  here,  ἀνθ’  ὅτου  is  used,  and  there  is  an  imperative  at  the  
end   of   the   sentence:   ἀνθ᾽   ὅτου,   φράζαι.   The   answer   begins   with   the   same  
preposition,   ἀνθ᾽:     ἀνθ᾽   ὑγιοῦς   γνώμης-­‐-­‐-­‐   (For   what?   –   For   sound   judgement-­‐-­‐-­‐).  

                                                                                                                         
316 rd
 IG  X  2,  1,  148  (B),  ca  mid-­‐3  century  CE,  Thessalonica.    
317
 folium  ὁ  αἰδέσιος  folium  |ἀγαθῆι  v  τύχηι.  |Μ(ᾶρκον)  Αὐρ(ήλιον)  Ἀττίναν  |τὸν  λαμπρ(ότατον)  σε-­‐
|μνῶς  καὶ  ἀδια-­‐|βλήτως  ἡγεμο-­‐|νεύσαντα  καὶ  |μαρτυρηθέν-­‐|τα  ὑπὸ  τῆς  ἐ-­‐|παρχείας  
folium|Αὐρ(ήλιος)  Πόντιος|Νεικίας  ὁ  κρ(άτιστος)|συνκλητικὸς|τὸν  ἴδιον  εὐ-­‐|εργέτην  καὶ  ἀ-­‐|ληθῆ  
φίλον.|εὐτυχῶς.  
318
 cf.  the  Egyptian  epigrams  nos.  14,  15,  17  and  18  in  Section  4.2.2  (this  goes  under  the  same  1  +  X–Y  
n  category,  but  serves  here  as  an  example  of  a  short  t2  structure).  

  122  
Repetition   is   used   to   mark   the   change   again,   or   to   give   something   to   orient   the  
reader.  

The  following  epigram  is  from  Rome.  The  turns  are  short,  but  there  are  now  
five  adjacency  pairs:319    
 

7.   τίς  ἦν  σε  ὁ  θρέψας;  —  ἦν  Κίλιξ  Ἀθήναιος.  —  

χρηστὸν  τὸ  θρέμμα·∙  τίς  καλῆι;  —  Νουμήνιος.  
πόσων  δ᾽  ἔθνηισκες  τῶν  ἐτῶν;  —  δὶς  εἴκοσιν.  
ἐχρῆν  σ᾽  ἔτι  ζῆν.  —  ἀλλὰ  καὶ  θανεῖν  ἐχρῆν.  —  
               5     γενναῖά  σου  καὶ  χαῖρε.  —  καὶ  σύ  γ᾽,  ὦ  ξένε·∙  
σοὶ  γὰρ  μέτεστιν  ἔτι  χαρᾶς,  ἡμῖν  δ᾽  ἅλις.  
 

Who  was  it  that  raised  you?  —  It  was  a  Cilician,  Athenaios.  —  Fine  result.  What  is  
your  name?  —  Numenios.  —  How  old  were  you  when  you  died?  —  Twice  20.  —You  
should  still  be  alive.  —  But  I  had  to  die  too.  —  Best  wishes,  goodbye.  —To  you  too,  o  
stranger.  Because  for  you  there  is  still  joy,  but  for  me  it  is  over.  

The   metre   in   this   epigram   is   iambic,   and   the   speakers   are   the   passerby   and   the  
deceased,  once  again.  The  first  three  verses  have  three  question–answer  pairs.  After  
these,   there   is   one   statement–response   pair   and   one   greeting   pair.   Each   verse  
consists  of  one  adjacency  pair,  except  for  the  last  pair  which  covers  two  verses,  and  
the  last  response  turn  is  one  and  a  half  verses  long.  

The   first   question   is   built   with   the   interrogative   τίς,   and   the   verb   ἦν   is  
repeated   in   the   reply:   τίς  ἦν   σε   ὁ   θρέψας;   –   ἦν   Κίλιξ   Ἀθήναιος.   The   beginning   of   the  
third   turn   is   a   reply   to   this   (i.e.   to   the   Cilician   Athenaios):   χρηστὸν   τὸ   θρέμμα.   A  
simple  interrogative  question  –  what  is  your  name?  –  then  follows  in  the  same  turn  
(τίς  καλῆι;).  The  name  is  given  in  the  reply:  Νουμήνιος.  In  the  third  question  turn  (l.  
3),  δέ  is  used,  like  in  so  many  similar  cases,  to  introduce  a  new  question:  πόσων  δ᾽  
ἔθνηισκες   τῶν   ἐτῶν;   The   answer   to   this   is   given   at   the   end   of   the   same   verse:   δὶς  
εἴκοσιν.   This   is   the   end   of   the   question–answer   part   of   the   epigram.   The   next  
                                                                                                                         
319 rd  
 IG  XIV  1883,  GVI  1866  =  GG  430,  3 century  CE,  Rome.  cf.  Rasche  1910,  34  and  Garulli  2014,  72–3.  

  123  
(fourth)   verse   consists   of   a   statement–response   pair.   The   passerby   says   that   the  
deceased   should   be   alive   (ἐχρῆν   σ’   ἔτι   ζῆν),   to   which   the   deceased   replies   that   he  
had  to  die  too:  ἀλλὰ  καὶ  θανεῖν  ἐχρῆν.  Here,  ἀλλὰ  is  used  in  an  adversative  function.  
The  verb  ἐχρῆν  is  repeated  in  two  different  usages.    

There  is  a  greeting  pair  in  the  fifth  verse,  and  the  last  verse  (in  the  deceased’s  
voice)  continues  after  the  reply  greeting  (καὶ  σύ  γ᾽,  ὦ  ξένε)  with  a  sentiment  directed  
to  the  passerby  and,  of  course,  to  the  passersby  in  general:  for  you  there  is  still  joy,  
for  me  it  is  over,  σοὶ  γὰρ  μέτεστιν  ἔτι  χαρᾶς,  ἡμῖν  δ᾽  ἅλις.320  

The  lengths  of  the  type-­‐2  epigrams  and  their  adjacency  pairs,  as  noted,  vary.  
In  the  following  epigram,  there  are  three  adjacency  pairs  that  are  longer  than,  for  
example,  the  previous  two  type-­‐2  examples:321  
 
 
8.   τίς  σε,  γύναι,  Παρίην  ὑπὸ  βώλακα  θήκατο;  τίς  σο[ι]  
    ξυνὸν  ὑπὲρ  τύμβου  σᾶμα  τόδ’  ἀγλάϊσεν;  —  
συνγαμέτας  Αὖλος  Βαβύλλιος  εἷσέ  με  δίξας  
      στοργὰν  ἀέναον.  —  τίς,  τίνος;  εἰπὲ  πάτραν.  —  
             5     οὔνομ᾽  Ἐπαρχίδα  μοι  θέτο  Σώστρατος  ἥ  θ᾽  ὁμόλεκτρος  
     Ἀρχίππη  κλεινὰν  δόξαν  ἐνεγκάμενοι,  
ἃν  Μύκονο[ς]  μὲν  ἔθρεψε  πάτρα,  πολιῆτιν  Ἀθηνῶν  
      Κέκροπος  αὐτόχθων  δᾶμος  ἀναγράφεται.  —  
χαῖρε,  γύναι,  τοιοῦδ’  ὁμοσυγγενέταο  γεγῶσα.—  
             10    καὶ  σὺ  χαρείς,  ὤνθρωπε,  ἕρπε  σὺν  εὐτυχίᾳ.  
 

Who  has  put  you,  woman,  under  the  Parian  ground?  Who  adorned  your  grave  with  
this   common   monument?   —   My   spouse,   Aulos   Babyllios,   buried   me,   showing   his  
ever-­‐flowing   love.   —   Who   are   you,   whose   daughter?   Tell   your   fatherland.   —  
Sostratos   and   his   spouse,   Archippe,   bearers   of   a   famous   glory,   gave   me   the   name  
Eparkhis;  fatherland  Mykonos  raised  me,  but  I  am  named  as  a  citizen  of  Athens,  by  

                                                                                                                         
320
 For  other  multi-­‐paired  epigrams,  see  ICr  IV  372  =  GVI  1882  and  SGO  4,  17/06/05.  
321 st
 IG  XII  5,  307,  GVI  1860  =  GG  428,  1  century  CE,  Paros.  The  epigram  was  carved  on  a  sarcophagus;  
for  the  decoration,  see  Löwy  1887,  180–1.  

  124  
the  city  of  Cecrops,  sprung  from  the  land  itself.  —  Greetings,  woman,  (you)  who  have  
descended  from  such  a  father.  —  Greetings  to  you  too,  o  human,  and  walk  with  luck.  

The   speakers   are   the   passerby   and   the   monument.   First,   there   are   two   question–
answer   pairs,   and   a   greeting   pair   then   follows.   In   the   first   turn,   we   see   familiar  
elements  again:  interrogatives  (τίς  twice,  in  two  different  question  moves),  address  
(γύναι)  and  deictic  (σᾶμα  τόδ᾽).  The  whole  turn  goes  as  follows:  τίς  σε,  γύναι,  Παρίην  
ὑπὸ   βώλακα   θήκατο;   τίς   σο[ι]   /   ξυνὸν   ὑπὲρ   τύμβου   σᾶμα   τόδ᾽   ἀγλάϊσεν;322  The  
reply   turn   begins   with   a   reply   to   τίς,   and   the   answer   thus   is   συνγαμέτας   Αὖλος  
Βαβύλλιος.  In  the  second  question  turn,  three  questions  are  expressed  by  two  plain  
interrogatives   and   an   imperative   +   accusative   object   structure:   τίς;   τίνος;   εἰπὲ  
πάτραν.   The   reply   turn   is   four   verses   long,   but   the   core   informative   element   is   again  
given   directly   at   the   beginning   of   the   turn,   in   line   5:   οὔνομ᾽   Ἐπαρχίδα   μοι   θέτο  
Σώστρατος  ἥ  θ᾽  ὁμόλεκτρος  /  Ἀρχίππη.  This  turn  also  gives  the  answer  to  τίνος;  –  the  
names   of   the   parents   are   Sostratos   and   Archippe.   Later   in   the   turn,   the   fatherland  
Mykonos  is  also  mentioned  (l.  7).  After  this  rather  long  reply  turn,  there  is  a  closing  
greeting  pair  that  is  two  verses  long:  χαῖρε,  γύναι-­‐-­‐-­‐  and  καὶ  σὺ  χαρεὶς  ὢνθρωπε-­‐-­‐-­‐.  
Once  again,  καὶ  links  the  turns  of  the  greeting  pair  together.  
The   following   honorific   epigram   starts   with   a   question   turn   as   well,   but   there  
is  a  short  introduction  before  the  actual  question:323  

 
9.     εἰπέ  μοι  εἰρομένῳ,  
τίνος  εἰκών.  —  Λουκί-­‐  
ου  εἰμί.  |—  στῆσε  δὲ  
τίς  σε,  φράσεις;  —  Τη-­‐  
               5     μενιδῶν  γενεή.  |  
—  ἀντὶ  δὲ  τεῦ,  λέξεις;  
 —  πανσόφου  ἀντ᾽  ἀ-­‐  
ρετῆς.  |  
 
                                                                                                                         
322
 cf.  GVI  1858  =  AG  7.163:  τίς  τίνος  εὖσα,  γύναι,  Παρίην  ὑπὸ  κίονα  κεῖσαι;  etc.  (cf.  Rasche  1910,  5).  
323
 SGO  3,  16/08/01,  Temenuthyrai,  no  date  given;  cf.  Buresch  1898  (Aus  Lydien)  164,  and  AG  7.470.  

  125  
 Πουφίδιον  στῆσαν  
           10     Λούκιον  εὐγενέ-­‐  
ων  |δόγματι  Τημε-­‐  
νιδῶν  παῖδες  ἑὸν  
πατέρα.  |  
 

Tell  me,  for  I  am  asking,  whose  statue  are  you?  —  Of  Lucius,  I  am.  —  Who  erected  
you,  will  you  tell?  —  The  family  of  Temenidae.  —  For  what,  tell?  —  For  the  virtue  of  
this  very  wise  man.  

The   children   erected   this   to   their   child,   Lucius   Pufidius,   by   the   decision   of   noble  
Temenidae.  

 
The  speakers   are   the   passerby  and  the   monument.324  In  most  of  the   epigrams,  the  
imperative   is   placed   after   the   interrogative   or   at   the   end   of   the   question   turn  
(sometimes   these   are   one   and   the   same   thing).   In   this   epigram,   however,   the  
imperative  begins  the  first  question  turn  and,  hence,  is  the  first  word  of  the  whole  
epigram.  The  imperative  εἰπέ  is  accompanied  by  an  embedded  participle  (object  to  
εἰπέ):  μοι  εἰρομένῳ,  after  which  follows  the  question:  τίνος  εἰκών;325  The  answer  is  
simple,  name  +  verb:  Λουκίου  εἰμί.  In  the  second  question,  δέ  denotes  the  new  pair:  
στῆσε  δὲ  τίς  σε,  φράσεις;  Note  that  at  the  end  of  the  turn,  there  is  a  question  (future  
indicative:   φράσεις;)   instead   of   the   imperative   φράζε.   A   short   answer   follows:  
Τημενιδῶν  γενεή.  The  previous  question  structure  is  repeated  in  the  next  question  
(ἀντὶ   δὲ   τεῦ,   λέξεις;)   instead   of   the   imperative   form.326  In   this   third   question,   the  
particle  δέ  is  used  again,  this  time  to  mark  the  next  question  pair:  ἀντὶ  δὲ  τεῦ.327  It  is  
answered   simply   by   ἀντ᾽   +   genitive.   There   are   two   more   verses   with   information  
about   the   deceased’s   honours   beneath   the   dialogue.   The   voice   here   is   rather  
impersonal;  it  could  be  either  the  monument  or  a  narrator,  but  I  am  inclined  to  read  

                                                                                                                         
324
 This  is  from  a  statue  base:  for  dialogues  with  statues,  see  Kassel  1983,  140–53.  
325
 Compare  with  GVI  1868  =  AG  7.470  (Meleager):  εἶπον  ἀνειρομένῳ  τίς  καὶ  τίνος  ἐσσί-­‐-­‐-­‐.  
326
 I  have  translated  these  questions  with  an  imperative,  since  it  is  closer  to  the  function  of  these  
words  than  ‘would  you/will  you  tell,  who…’.  
 For  ἀντί  cf.  no.  6  in  this  chapter.  
327

  126  
it   as   the   monument   giving   more   particular   information   after   the   dialogue. 328  
However,   the   direction   of   the   speech   seems   to   change:   before   these   verses,   the  
monument  speaks  to  the  passerby,  but  the  last  verses  are  directed  to  passersby  in  
general,  i.e.  to  a  wider  audience.329  
 

4.2  X  –  Y  n  and  its  variants  

As  with  type-­‐1  epigrams,  my  division  of  type-­‐2  epigrams  into  subcategories  is  based  
on   the   adjacency   pair   structures.   The   four   type-­‐2   epigram   variants,   put   into  
paradigms,  are  as  follows:  

1. Several  adjacency  pairs:  X  –  Y  n  (e.g.  Q  –  A  n  or  Q  –  A  n  +  S  –  R,  etc.)  

2. Extra  turn  at  the  beginning  of  the  epigram:  1  +  X  –  Y  n  
3. Extra  turn  at  the  end  of  the  epigram:  X  –  Y  n  +  1  
4. Two  extra  turns:  1  +  X  –  Y  n  +  1330  

 
Variant  1  is  a  type-­‐2  epigram  with  two  or  several  adjacency  pairs;  the  number  of  the  
pairs  varies.  Variant  2  is  an  epigram  with  an  extra  turn  at  the  beginning,  for  example  
a  statement  which  then  initiates  the  question–answer  pair  structure  that  follows.  If  
the  extra  turn  is  at  the  beginning  of  the  epigram  (in  any  of  the  variants),  it  is  most  
often   the   monument   that   starts   speaking.   After   that,   a   question   turn   follows,   and  
this   question   turn   is   a   reaction   to   the   first   turn.   The   first   three   turns   (S   +   Q   –   A)   thus  
form   a   three-­‐turn   unit,   in   a   way.   Variant   3   is   an   epigram   with   an   extra   turn   at   the  
end.  This  extra  turn  can  be  a  greeting,  a  wish  turn  or  some  other  kind  of  statement.  
Variant   4   is   an   epigram   that   has   an   extra   turn   at   the   beginning,   the   end   or   in   the  
middle  of  the  epigram;  however,  there  are  only  two  of  these  epigrams.    

In   the   following   sections,   I   will   give   examples   of   these   variants,   analysing  

their  pairs  and  also  the  features  of  language  in  each.  This  means  that  I  will  continue  
                                                                                                                         
328
 In  Chapter  5,  I  will  provide  examples  of  a  narrator  role,  but,  as  stated  in  Chapter  2,  these  two  roles  
are  occasionally  rather  similar,  and  the  neutral,  impersonal  monument  is  not  uncommon  at  all.  
329
 This  is  why  I  count  this  as  variant  3;  see  Section  4.2.  For  the  list  of  t2  epigrams  according  to  the  
variants,  see  Table  6  at  the  end  of  Section  4.4.  
330
 Or  X  –  Y  n  +  2;  there  are  only  two  of  these  variants,  and  in  the  other  one,  the  second  extra  turn  is  in  
the  middle  of  the  epigram:  see  no.  18  in  this  chapter.  

  127  
the  analysis  that  I  began  in  Section  4.1,  while  also  considering  the  pair  structure  as  
well.    

Nineteen   type-­‐2   epigrams   contain   no   extra   turns.   This   means   that   more   than  
half  of  the  epigrams  of  this  type  are  of  variant  1.  Owing  to  this,  I  will  discuss  variant  1  
in   one   section   (4.2.1)   and   the   rest   of   the   type-­‐2   epigrams   (i.e.   variants   2–4)   in  
another  section  (4.2.2).  

4.2.1  Several  adjacency  pairs  

The   following   epigram   is   dated   to   the   2nd   or   1st   century   BCE,   which   makes   it   an   early  
example   of   the   type.   A   title   line   with   two   greetings   is   given   first,   and   the   epigram  
follows  this:331    

 
10.          

[Σαρ]απιὰς  Λεωφἀντου,  |  φύσει  δέ  Ἡροστράτου,|  χρηστὴ  χαῖρε.  |  Ἡροστράτε            

Φιλώτου  χρηστὲ  χαῖρε.  

  τίς  ἦ  ῥα  τύμβῳ  τῷδ᾽  ὕπεσσ᾽;  —    Ἡρόστρατος.  —    

  πατρός;  —    Φιλώτεω.  —  τίς  δὲ  τεῦ  πάτρα;  —  Τέως.  —    
  τέχνα;  —  θαλασσόεργος.  —    ἐντὶ  τεῦ  δόμοις    
  παῖς;  —  ὃν  Τύχἆγε  τερπνὸν  ἐς  βίου  τέλος  
             5     γέρας  ποδαγετεῦσα.  —  ποτὶ  δ᾽  ἐτέων  ἔβας    
  ἀριθμόν;  —  ἑξάκοντα  λειπόμαν  τρισίν.  —    
  κούφα  κόνις  τοι.  —  τὶν  δ᾽,  ὁδεῖτ᾽,  ὄλβος  πέλοι.  
 

[Sar]apias  of  Leophantos,  really  of  Herostratos,  greetings.  Herostratos  of  Philotas  
greetings.  

                                                                                                                         
331 nd st
 SGO  1,  03/06/06,  2 /1  century  BCE,  Teos  (Asia  Minor).  cf.  GVI  1859  for  a  different  turn  division.  
(Peek  vv.  1–2:  τίς  ἦ  ῥα  τύμβῳ  τῷδ᾽  ὕπεσσ᾽;  —    Ἡρόστρατος  πατρός  Φιλώτεω;  and  5–6:  ποτὶ  δ᾽  ἐτέων  
ἔβας  ἀριθμον  ἑξάκοντα;  —  λειπόμαν  τρισίν).  I  find  the  question  structure  given  in  SGO  for  verses  5–6  
more  likely  for  the  ignorant  passerby  than  Peek’s  suggestion.  In  verses  1–2,  Peek’s  division  is  of  
course  possible.  See  also  Garulli  2014,  76–8  (who  follows  the  division  given  in  GVI).  

  128  
Well,  who  are  you  under  this  tomb?  —  Herostratos.  —  Whose  son?  —  Of  Philotas.  —  
What  was  your  fatherland?  —  Teos.  —  Profession?  —  Fisherman.  —  Did  you  have  a  
child   (in   your)   home?   —   (Yes),   the   one   that   Tyche   gave   as   a   gift   for   my   last   years’  
delight.  —  Up  to  how  many  years  did  you  walk  (=live)?  —  Sixty  minus  three.  —  May  
the  earth  be  light  upon  you.  —  And  for  you,  wayfarer,  may  there  be  bliss.  

 
The  speakers  in  this  grave  epigram  are  the  passerby  and  the  deceased.  Here,  all  the  
information  is  given  in  seven  short  adjacency  pairs.  The  first  six  pairs  are  question–
answer  pairs,  and  a  greeting  pair  ends  the  poem.  Some  of  the  turns  –  both  questions  
and   answers   –   in   this   epigram   consist   of   one   word   only.   The   first   question   is   formed  
by  an  interrogative  +  ἦ  ῥα,  and  there  is  also  a  deictic  (τύμβῳ  τῷδ᾽),  hence:  τίς  ἦ  ῥα  
τύμβῳ  τῷδ᾽  ὕπεσσ᾽;332  The  reply  to  this  first  question  is  the  name  of  the  deceased:  
Ἡρόστρατος.  After  that,  the  second  question  is  simply:  πατρός;  Again,  only  a  name  
(of   the   father   this   time)   is   given   in   the   reply:   Φιλώτεω.   In   the   third   question,   the  
particle  δέ  is  used  to  mark  a  new  question:  τίς  δὲ  τεῦ  πάτρα;  i.e.  And  what  was  your  
homeland?  Yet  another  one-­‐word  reply  follows:  Τέως.  The  fourth  pair  is  also  short,  
and   notably   has   no   markers   at   all:   τέχνα;   —   θαλασσόεργος.   The   fifth   question   is  
longer   and   contains   a   verb   at   the   beginning   of   the   turn:   ἐντὶ   τεῦ   δόμοις   παῖς;   The  
sixth  question  has  a  particle  again:  ποτὶ  δ᾽  ἐτέων-­‐-­‐-­‐.  The  last  pair  is  a  pair  of  wishes.  
The  first  turn  of  this  pair  is  the  common  formula  κούφα  κόνις  τοι,  and  in  the  reply,  a  
particle  is  used  together  with  the  address  to  connect  the  turn  to  the  previous  one:  
τίν  δ᾽,  ὁδεῖτ᾽,  ὄλβος  πέλοι.  On  this  monument,  the  stone  cutting  helps  the  reader  to  
see  the  change  of  the  turns:  they  are  marked  by  vacat.333  
The  following  epigram  consists  of  five  short  question–answer  pairs:334    

11.   τίς  τίνος  ἀμφὶ  π[έτ]ρῃ  κέκ[λ]ι[σα]ι  [τῇδ᾽,  οὔ]νο[μα]  φράζε·∙  

—  Παυλεῖνα.  —  τίνος,  [ε]ἰπέ,  [γ]υνή;  —  Φιλομ[ήτ]ορος,  ὅς  με  
                                                                                                                         
332
 In  these  rather  short  Q  –  A    pairs,  the  speakers  are  often  clear,  but  a  previously  unpublished  
epigram  (to  be  included    in  the  imminent  fascicle  of  the  Coan  corpus:  IG  XII  4,  3,  2147)  begins  with  
λιτός  γ᾽  ὁ  τύμβος·∙  τίς  δ᾽  ὁ  δεσπότης|  νέκυς;  –  Πρώταρχος·∙  αἶα  δὲ  Ὀξυ|ργχῖτις  πάτρα,  and  only  after  
this  the  deceased  is  addressed  in  the  second  person  singular:  ἐλεύθερος|  δ᾽  ἔθνῃσκες  ἢ  δοῦλος  
γεγώς;  |  -­‐-­‐-­‐.  
333
 See  the  drawn  copy  of  the  text  in  Le  Bas-­‐Waddington  1870,  no.  115.  cf.  SGO  1,  03/06/06  
commentary  for  differences  to  Peek.  
334 nd
 Marek  1993,  no.  38  =  GVI  1863  =  SGO  2,  10/03/04,  2  century  CE,  Amastris,  Bithynia.  

  129  
       λοιμῷ  τῇδε  πέτρῃ  [θ]άψεν  [ἀπ]οφθιμένην.  
—  τίς  δέ  σοι  ἦν  γενέτης;  —  Χρύσης  ἐμὲ  γε[ίν]ετο  πρόσθεν.  
             5     —  ἄρσενα  παῖδ᾽  ἔλιπες  θα[λ]άμοις;  —  ἕνα  [νυμ]φευθεῖσα.  
—  πόστον  δ᾽  ἔσχες  ἔ[τ]ος  βιότου  τέλος  [ἀθ]ρήσασα;  
    —  ὀγδόῳ  [ε]ἰκοστῷ  μοῖραν  ἔτλην  βιότου.    
 

Who   and   whose   child   are   you,   who   li[e]   under   [this]   s[to]ne?   Tell   your   [na]m[e].   —  
Paulina.  —  Whose  wife  were  you,  tell.  —  Of  Philom[e]tor,  who  [b]uried  me  under  this  
stone  when  I  had  [di]ed  of  plague.  —  Who  was  your  father?  —  Khryses  be[g]ot  me  
earlier.  —  Did  you  leave  a  male  child  at  home?  —  One,  after  I  had  got  [mar]ried.  —  
How  old  were  you  when  you  [s]aw  the  end  of  life?  —  In  my  28th  year  I  suffered  the  
fateful  end  of  my  life.  

The  speakers  here  are  the  passerby  and  the  deceased.  There  are  two  interrogatives  
in  a  row  opening  the  sentence  (τίς  τίνος)  .  Furthermore,  there  is  a  deictic  reference  
to  the  monument  and  a  second  person  singular:  ἀμφὶ  π[έτ]ρῃ  κέκ[λ]ι[σα]ι   [τῇδ᾽.  The  
last  word  of  the  sentence  (and  this  whole  turn)  is  the  imperative  φράζε.  This  verse  is  
partly  fragmentary,  but  the  interrogatives  are  intact,  as  is  the  imperative  at  the  end  
of  the  verse.    
In   the   reply   turn,   the   deceased   tells   her   name   in   a   one-­‐word   turn:   Παυλεῖνα.  
The  next  pair  begins  with  a  question  turn  with  an  interrogative  and  an  imperative:  
τίνος,   [ε]ἰπέ,   [γ]υνή.   This   was   asked   already   in   the   first   question   turn,   but,   as   the  
deceased   told   only   her   name   in   the   first   adjacency   pair,   the   passerby   repeats   the  
question   here,   perhaps   to   emphasise   the   message.   The   deceased   replies,   and   tells  
not  only  the  name  of  her  husband  but  also  that  he  buried  her  after  she  had  died  of  
plague:   Φιλομ[ήτ]ορος,   ὅς   με   λοιμῷ   τῇδε   πέτρῃ   [θ]άψεν   [ἀπ]οφθιμένην.   All   this  
information   is   thus   woven   into   one   sentence.   After   these   two   adjacency   pairs,   the  
third  one  uses  a  particle  again  in  the  question  turn:  (and)  who  was  your  father,  τίς  δέ  
σοι   ἦν   γενέτης;   and   the   reply   turn   begins   with   a   name:   Χρύσης-­‐-­‐-­‐.   The   fourth  
question   is   formed   using   a   verb   and   an   object:   ἄρσενα   παῖδ’   ἔλιπες   (word   order:  
OV).   The   last   begins   with   an   adjective   and   δέ   –   the   adjective   has   an   interrogative  
function  here:  πόστον   δ᾽  ἔσχες  ἔ[τ]ος  βιότου-­‐-­‐-­‐.  In  this  epigram,  the  interlocutors  are  

  130  
easy  to  define:  the  second  person  singular  is  used  from  the  beginning,  so  we  know  
that   it   is   the   deceased   herself   who   replies.   The   metre   is   hexameter,   except   for   verse  
3,  which  is  pentameter.  
In  the  following  epigram,  16  verses  form  two  pairs:335  

 
12.     φράζε,  τίνος  γονέως,  σέο  τ᾽  οὔνομα  καὶ  πόσιν  αὔδα  
καὶ  χρόνον  εἰπέ,  γύναι,  καὶ  πόλεως  ὅθεν  εἶ.  —  
Νείκανδρος  γενέτωρ,  πατρὶς  Πάρος,  οὔνομα  δὲ  ἦν  μοι  
    Σωκράτεα,  φθιμένην  Παρμενίων  δὲ  ἔθετο  
           5     σύνλεκτρος  τύμβῳ  με,  χάριν  δέ  μοι  ὤπασε  τήνδε,  
      εὐδόξου  ζωᾶς  μνῆμα  καὶ  ἐσσομένοις·∙  
καί  μέ  πικρὰν  νεαροῖο  βρέφους  ἀφύλακτος  Ἐρεινὺς  
αἱμορύτοιο  νόσωι  τερπνὸν  ἔλυσε  βίον·∙  
οὔθ᾽  ὑπ᾽  ἐμαῖς  ὠδεῖσι  τὸ  νήπιον  εἰς  φάος  ἦγον,  
           10      ἀλλ᾽  ὑπὸ  γαστρὶ  φίλαι  κεύθεται  ἐμ  φθιμένοις·∙  
τρισσᾶς  ἐκ  δεκάδος  δὲ  πρὸς  ἓξ  ἐτέων  χρόνον  ἦλθον,  
      ἀνδρὶ  λιποῦσα  τέκνων  ἀρσενόπαιδα  γονάν·∙  
δισσὰ  δὲ  πατρὶ  λιποῦσα  καὶ  ἱμερτῶι  συνομεύνωι  
      αὐτὰ  ὑπὸ  τριτάτωι  τόνδε  λέλονχα  τόπον.  —  
           15   ἀλλὰ  σύ,  παμβασίληα  θεά,  πολυώνυμε  κούρα,  
      τήνδε  ἄγε  ἐπ᾽  εὐσεβέων  χῶρον  ἔχουσα  χερός.  —  
τοῖς  δὲ  παρερχομένοισι  θεὸς  τέρψιν  τινὰ  δῴη  
      εἴπασιν  χαίρειν  Σωκράτεαν  κατὰ  γῆς.  
                 
Διονύσιος  Μάγνης  ποιητὴς  ἔγραψεν.  
 

Tell  whose  child  you  are,  and  your  name,  and  say  who  was  your  husband,  and  tell  the  
time   (=   how   old   were   you   when   you   died),   woman,   and   which   town   you   are   from.   —  
Nicander   was   my   begetter,   Paros   my   hometown,   my   name   Socratea,   and   when   I  
died,   my   husband   Parmenion   buried   me   (and)   granted   me   this   (gift)   as   monument   of  
my   glorious   life,   also   for   those   to   come.   Erinys,   against   whom   one   is   unguarded,  
                                                                                                                         
335 nd
 IG  XII,  5,  310  =  GVI  1871  =  GG  432,  2  century  CE,  Paros.  

  131  
ended   my   delightful   life,   to   my   bitterness,   with   a   bleeding   disease.   I   had   a   young  
baby  in  womb;  I  did  not  bring  the  baby  to  the  light  by  pangs  of  my  labour,  but  it  (is)  
still  inside  my  stomach,  and  is  now  among  the  dead.  After  three  times  a  decade  I  still  
reached   a   number   of   six   years,   and   I   left   my   husband   male   descendants;   two   (of  
them)  I  leave  to  (their)  father,  (my)  lovely  bed-­‐fellow,  by  the  birth  of  the  third  one  I  
myself  am  fated  to  this  place.  —  But  you,  goddess,  queen  of  all,  maiden  with  many  
names,   lead   her   by   the   hand   to   the   place   of   the   blessed.   —   May   god   give   some  
delight  to  them  who,  when  passing  by,  say  their  greetings  to  Socratea  (who  is)  under  
the  ground.    
Poet  Dionysius  from  Magnesia  wrote  this.  
 

 
The   speakers   here   are   the   passerby   and   the   deceased.   There   are   18   verses   in   this  
epigram,  and  yet  only  four  turns.  These  four  turns  form  two  adjacency  pairs.  The  first  
one   of   them   is   a   question–answer   pair,   and   the   second   is   a   kind   of   a   wish,   or   a  
statement–response  pair  similar  to  a  pair  of  wishes.336  The  last  turn  is  a  wish  turn,  in  
any  case.    
The   epigram   begins   with   a   question   turn.   This   starts   with   the   imperative  
φράζε,   and   what   the   deceased   must   tell   is   listed   after   the   imperative.   Two   more  
imperatives  follow  after  the  initial  one  (αὔδ[α  at  the  end  of  the  first  verse  and  εἰπέ  
in  the  second  verse),  and  they  are  accompanied  by  accusative  objects  linked  to  one  
other  by  particles:  φράζε,  τίνος  γονέως,  σέο  τ᾽  οὔνομα  καὶ  πόσιν  αὔδ[α],  καὶ  χρόνον  
εἰπέ,  γύ{γυ}ναι,  καὶ  πόλεως  ὅθεν  εἶ.  Note  also  the  address  (γύναι).  In  this  turn,  καί  
links   units   that,   if   divided   in   several   turns,   would   be   separated   by   δέ,   as   indeed  
happens   in   the   reply   turn.   It   begins   with   the   name   of   the   father,   which   is   the   first  
fact  asked  for  in  the  question  turn.  The  list  of  the  answers  then  continues,  and  the  
third,  fourth  and  fifth  items  in  the  list  are  given  with  δέ,  and  the  last  one  with  καὶ:  -­‐-­‐-­‐  
οὔνομα   δὲ  ἦν   μοι  |   Σωκράτεα   φθιμένην   Παρμενίων   δὲ  ἔθετο   |   σύνλ[ε]κτρος   τύμβῳ  
με,   χάριν   δέ   μοι   ὤπασε   τήνδε|   εὐδόξου   ζωᾶς   μνῆμα   καὶ   ἐσσομένοις.   Here,   the  
particle   δέ   creates   continuity   and,   at   the   end   of   the   list,   καὶ   brings   everything  
together.   This   shows   how   δέ   functions   in   between   units,   i.e.   it   links   certain   topics  
together   and   marks   the   boundaries   of   the   pairs,   whereas   καί   functions   within   the  
turn.  

                                                                                                                         
336
 cf.  no.  2  in  this  chapter.  

  132  
 After  this,  καί  μ[ε]  πικρὰν  in  line  7  starts  a  new  information  unit.  This  further  
information  is  also  arranged  with  particles:  at  the  beginning  of  line  7,  καί  connects  
the  unit  to  the  previous  ones,  but  it  also  marks  the  fact  that  additional  information  is  
now  given  here.  The  same  goes  for  lines  9–10  with  οὔθ᾽-­‐-­‐-­‐ἀλλ᾽,  and  the  next  one  (ll.  
11–12),   which   is   arranged   with   δέ,   as   well   as   the   last   information   unit   of   the   turn   (ll.  
13–14),  where  καί  is  also  used.  
-­‐-­‐-­‐οὔθ᾽  ὑπ᾽  ἐμαῖς  ὠδεῖσι  τὸ  νήπιον  εἰς  φάος  ἦγον,  
           10      ἀλλ᾽  ὑπὸ  γαστρὶ  φίλαι  κεύθεται  ἐμ  φθιμένοις·∙  
τρισσᾶς  ἐκ  δεκάδος  δὲ  πρὸς  ἓξ  ἐτέων  χρόνον  ἦλθον  
      ἀνδρὶ  λιποῦσα  τέκνων  ἀρσενόπαιδα  γονάν·∙  
δισσὰ  δὲ  πατρὶ  λιποῦσα  καὶ  ἱμερτῶι  [σ]υνομεύνωι-­‐-­‐-­‐  
This   long   turn   of   the   deceased   first   gives   answers   to   several   previously   asked  
questions,  and  after  that  offers  additional  information.  The  particles  help  us  to  piece  
together   the   text,   and   they   also   give   the   recipient   an   opportunity   to   recognise   the  
units.  
After  line  and  verse  14,  the  speaker  changes;  it  is  the  passerby  again  in  lines  
15–16.   The   turn   begins   with   a   particle   and   an   address:   ἀλλὰ   σύ,   παμβασίληα   θεά,  
πολυώνυμε   κούρα-­‐-­‐-­‐.   The   addressee   is   not   the   deceased   anymore,   but   a   goddess,337  
and   ἀλλἀ   helps   to   mark   the   change,   which   the   address   then   makes   clear.   The  
direction   of   speech   has   changed.   After   the   passerby   has   addressed   the   goddess,  
there   is   no   clear   addressee:   τοῖς   δὲ   παρερχομένοισι   θεὸς   τέρψιν   τινὰ   δῴη   /   εἴπασιν  
χαίρειν  Σωκράτεαν  κατὰ  γῆς.  Thus,  the  direction  of  speech  goes  as  follows:  
turn  1:  PB  -­‐>  DEC  
turn  2:  DEC  -­‐>  PB  
turn  3:  PB  -­‐>  goddess  
turn  4:  DEC  -­‐>  no  clear  addressee    
The   last   adjacency   pair   (ll.   15–16)   is   similar   to   the   pairs   of   wishes   we   have   seen   in  
this   chapter,   but   instead   of   the   optatives   (which   would   be   used   if   the   passerby  
addressed   the   deceased   directly),   the   passerby   uses   the   imperative   ἄγε.   Similarly,  

                                                                                                                         
337
 Persephone.  cf.  Guarducci  1942,  44.  

  133  
the  deceased  uses  the  subjunctive  δῴη  instead  of  the  optative.  Beneath  the  epigram  
is  the  signature  of  the  poet:  Διονύσιος  Μάγνης  ποιητὴς  ἔγραψεν.338    
In   the   last   example   of   this   subtype,   the   speakers   are   clear,   yet   the  
identification  of  the  speaker  roles  depends  on  the  interpretation  of  turn  division:339  

 
13.                    ὁ  δῆμος  Μηνοφίλαν  Ἑρμαγένου.  
                                                                           (wreath)  
                                                        (niche)  

κομψὰν  καὶ  χαρίεσσα  πέτρος  δείκνυσι.  τίς  ἐντι  

      Μουσῶν  μανύει  γράμματα·∙  Μηνοφίλαν.  
  —  τεῦ  δ᾽  ἕνεκ᾽  ἐν  στάλᾳ  γλυπτὸν  κρίνον  ἠδὲ  καὶ  ἄλφα  
        βύβλος  καὶ  τάλαρος  τοῖς  δ᾽  ἔπι  καὶ  στέφανος;    
                 5    —  ἡ  σοφία  μὲν  βίβλος,  ὁ  δ᾽  αὖ  περὶ  κρατὶ  φορηθεὶς  
ἀρχὰν  μανύει,  μουνογόναν  δὲ  τὸ  ἕν,  
εὐτάκτου  δ᾽  ἀρετᾶς  τάλαρος  μάνυμα,  τὸ  δ᾽  ἄνθος  
        τὰν  ἀκμὰν,  δαίμων  ἅντιν᾽  ἐληΐσατο.  —  
κού[φ]α  τοι  κόνις  ἀμφιπέλοι  τοιῇδε  θανούσῃ,  
             10      αἴ,  ἄγονοι  δὲ  γονεῖς,  τοῖς  ἔλιπες  δάκρυα.  
                   
The  people  honoured  Menophila,  the  daughter  of  Hermagenes.    

Also   the   beautiful   stone   declares   her   fairness,   and   who   she   is,   the   verses   tell   us:  
Menophila.   —   Why   are   there   carved   on   a   stele   a   lily   and   an   A,   a   book,   a   basket,   and  
above,  a  wreath?  —  The  book  signifies  wisdom,  the  wreath  worn  around  her  head,  
public   office,   and   the   number   One   (=   A),   an   only   child.   The   basket   symbolises   well-­‐
ordered  virtue,  and  the  flower,  that  bloom  which  fate  stole  away.  —  May  the  earth  
be   lig[h]t   upon   you,   who   have   thus   died.   Oh!   you   left   your   parents,   now   without   a  
child,  in  tears.    

                                                                                                                         
338
 cf.  Guarducci  above.  
339 nd
 GVI  1881,  Sardis,  mid-­‐2  century  BCE.  cf.  Sardis  7,  1,  111.  V.  10  Herzog  1936,  339  ἄγονοι,  Peek  
ἄτοκοι  (but  every  letter  is  unsure).  I  saw  the  stone  myself  in  the  Istanbul  Archaeological  Museum.  I  
find  Herzog’s  reading  of  the  last  verses  (9–10  mentioned  above)  more  probable  than  κού[φ]α  τοι  
κόνις  εἰμί,  which  is  given  in  the  Sardis  edition  (Buckler  –  Robinson).  

  134  
The   speakers   are   the   monument   and   the   passerby.   At   the   beginning   of   the   epigram,  
the   deceased   is   referred   to   in   the   third   person   (no   addresses   here),   and   so   is   the  
monument:   πέτρος   δείκνυσι   (v.   1)   and   μανύει   γράμματα   (v.   2).   In   the   Sardis   edition,  
verses  1–2  form  the  first  turn,  verses  3–4  the  second,  verses  5–8  the  third  and  verses  
9–10   the   fourth   and   last   turn.340  I   find   this   turn   division   most   probable.   First,   the  
rather   neutral   voice   of   the   monument   reports   facts   about   the   deceased,   and   then  
the   passerby   asks   for   more   information.   The   monument   replies   to   this   reqest,   and  
the   passerby   then   responds   again   (S   +   Q   –   A   +   R).   Another   option   for   the   turn  
division  is  the  following  (cf.  Peek):341  

Κομψὰν  καὶ  χαρίεσσα  πέτρος  δείκνυσι·∙  τίς  ἐντι;  

      —  Μουσῶν  μανύει  γράμματα·∙  Μηνοφίλαν.  
In  this  case,  the  speakers  are  still  the  passerby  and  the  monument,  but  the  division  
of  the  whole  epigram  is  PB  –  MON  +  PB  –  MON  +  PB  (i.e.  t2  +  1),  whereas  the  division  
given  here  is  PB  –  MON  +  PB  –  MON  (t2).  If  we  read  verses  1–4  as  one  turn  (as  the  
edition,   but   not   the   translation   in   the   Sardis   edition,   seems   to   be),   the   speakers  
would   be   PB   +   MON   +   PB,   i.e.   type   1   +   1,   but   I   find   this   unlikely   as   the   passerby  
would   first   say   ‘read’   the   verses   1–2   and   then   ask   ’but   why…?’,   τεῦ   δ᾽   ἕνεκ᾽-­‐-­‐-­‐,   which  
does  not  fit  into  patterns  of  dialogue  epigrams.  
However   we   interpret   the   turn   division,   the   speakers   are   the   passerby   and  
the   monument.   The   third   verse   begins   with   a   question   turn   (by   the   passerby):   τεῦ   δ᾽  
ἕνεκ᾽   ἐν   στάλᾳ   γλυπτὸν   κρίνον   ἠδὲ-­‐-­‐-­‐.   The   particle   δέ   (in   the   combination  
interrogative  +  δέ)  seems  to  indicate  a  change  of  speaker  here.342  The  voice  asking  
the  questions  must  be  the  passerby  –  I  see  no  other  option,  as  the  monument  or  the  
narrator  would  not  ask  such  questions  after  a  narrative  section,  especially  not  with  
δέ,   which   introduces   the   question.   The   passerby,   however,   does   not   address   the  
monument   directly   (but   τεῦ   δ᾽   ἕνεκ᾽   ἐν   στάλᾳ   γλυπτὸν-­‐-­‐-­‐   instead).   This   goes   well  
with  the  previous  two  verses,  in  which  the  monument  is  spoken  about  in  the  third  
                                                                                                                         
340
 In  the  Greek  text,  there  is  no  stroke  to  signify  the  change  of  speaker  after  the  second  verse,  but  in  
the  English  translation  given  in  the  edition,  the  change  of  speaker  is  clear,  and  whether  or  not  this  is  
intentional,  I  find  1–2  +  3–4  +  5–8  +  9–10  the  most  probable  turn  division.  
341
 Peek  GVI  1881.  cf.  Pfuhl  –  Möbius  1979,  no.  418.  For  an  analysis,  see  Ferrandini  Troisi  2000,  no.  4.3  
(pp.  63ff.).  
342
 δέ  can  be  used  in  monologue  as  well  of  course,  but  in  dialogues,  and  especially  in  a  question  turn,  
it  suggests  a  new  turn  (and  hence  a  new  speaker  here).  

  135  
person,  and,  as  we  have  seen,  this  is  by  no  means  exceptional.  It  is  possible  to  find  
references   to   the   monument   in   an   epigram   in   which   the   monument   is   also   one   of  
the  speakers.343  

The  decoration  of  the  monument  is  described  in  the  text,  and  its  symbolism  
is   even   decoded. 344  Menophila   herself   is   in   the   centre   of   the   relief,   and   the  
decoration  described  in  the  epigram  is  also  clearly  visible:  an  alpha  is  carved  on  her  
left-­‐hand  side,  and  the  basket,  book  roll  and  lily  are  in  the  upper  part  of  the  relief,  
near  her  head.  The  wreath  is  carved  at  the  top  of  the  relief,  above  everything  else.345  
The  last  turn,  in  verses  9–10  after  the  decoding  of  the  decoration,  is  by  the  passerby  
again,  who  addresses  the  deceased  and  talks  to  her  in  the  second  person.346  

We  can  read  this  epigram  as  a  type-­‐3  epigram  (especially  if  the  first  speaker  is  
a  narrator  and  not  the  monument),  i.e.  narrator  +  passerby  +  deceased  +  passerby  
again.   Yet,   it   is   more   likely   that   it   is   a   type-­‐2   epigram   with   monument–passerby  
pairs. 347  As   this   speculation   shows,   the   category   of   an   epigram   may   sometimes  
depend  on  the  reading,  but  this  is  precisely  the  reason  I  wanted  to  discuss  this  last  
example  in  this  section.  Fortunately,  the  arguable  cases  are  ultimately  few.  

4.2.2  Several  adjacency  pairs  +  extra  turn(s)  

The   extra   turns   are   either   at   the   beginning,   at   the   end   or,   in   one   case,   in   the   middle  
of  the  epigram.  In  this  chapter,  I  will  discuss  all  of  these  variations  (i.e.  variants  2–4).    

In   three   of   the   type-­‐2   epigrams,   the   extra   turn   opens   the   epigram,   which  
means  that  there  is  a  turn  at  the  beginning  of  the  epigram,  which  then  initiates  the  
                                                                                                                         
343
 i.e.  epigrams  that  begin  with  PB  asking  who  is  in  this  grave  (deictic),  and  the  monument  then  
answers.  
344
 Concerning  the  text  and  the  decoration,  the  inter-­‐referentiality,  see  Kauppinen,  forthcoming.  
345
 Männlein-­‐Robert  2007,  262  points  out  that  this  epigram  can  be  seen  as  an  ecphrastic  epigram,  
influenced  by  the  Hellenistic  (or  later)  literary  epigrams.  It  is  perhaps  worth  pointing  out  that,  as  Bruss  
2010,  385  notes,  ‘almost  all  pre-­‐Hellenistic  inscribed  epigrams  contain  at  least  one  characteristic  of  
ecphrasis…‘,  i.e.  by  identifying  the  object.  It  is  very  probable  that  there  is  some  influence  within  the  
inscriptional  genre,  but  especially  the  longer  references,  which  depict  the  decoration  of  the  
monument,  seem  to  have  been  influenced  by  the  ecphrastic  non-­‐inscribed  epigrams  as  well.    
346
 κού[φ]α  τοι  κόνις  εἰμί  (in  Sardis)  seems  improbable.  κούφα  κόνις  τοι  is  a  common  phrase  at  the  
end  of  the  epigram,  and  an  optative  after  that  also  fits  the  patterns  we  have  seen  so  far.  
347
 Read  also  as  non-­‐dialogue,  Masséglia  2015,  123.  

  136  
adjacency   pair   structure.   In   an   epigram   from   Saqqarah,   the   opening   turn   is   followed  
by  six  adjacency  pairs:348  

 
14.     στῆθι  φίλον  παρὰ  τύμβον,  ὁδοιπόρε.  —  τίς  με  κελεύει;  —  
     φρουρὸς  ἐγώ  σε  λέων.  —  αὐτὸς  ὁ  λαΐνεος;  —  
αὐτός.  —  φωνήεις  πόθεν  ἔπλεο;  —  δαίμονος  αὐδῆι  
     ἀνδρὸς  ὑποχθονίου.  —  τίς  γὰρ  ὅδ᾽  ἐστὶν  ἀνὴρ  
           5     ἀθανάτοισι  θεοῖσι  τετιμένος,  ὥστε  δύνασθαι  
     καὶ  φωνὴν  τεύχειν  ὧδε  λίθωι  βροτέην;  —  
Ἡρᾶς  Μεμφίτης  οὗτος,  φίλε,  κύδιμος  ἥρως,  
     ὁ  σθεναρός,  πολλοῖς  ἔξοχος,  εὐρυβίης,  
γνώριμος  ἐνδαπίοισι  καὶ  ἀνδράσι  τηλεδαποῖσιν  
           10          εἵνεκ᾽  ἐυφροσύνης,  εἵνεκεν  ἀγλαΐης,  
ὠκύμορος,  τὸν  ἔκλαυσε  πόλις,  τὸν  ἔθαψαν  ἑταῖροι·∙  
     ἦ  γὰρ  ἔην  πάτρης  ἄνθος  ἐυστεφάνου.  —  
δακρύω,  μὰ  σέ,  δαῖμον,  ἐπεὶ  κλύον  ὅσσ᾽  ἀγορεύει  
     θὴρ  ὅδε.  —μὴ  πηοῖς,  ὦ  ξένε,  δακρυχέοις.  —  
           15     ἔλθοι  ἐς  αἰῶνα  κλυτὸν  οὔνομα.  —  καὶ  σὲ  φυλάξει  
     δαίμων  καὶ  σώσει  πάντα  Τύχη  βίοτον.  
 

Wayfarer,   stop   by   my   tomb.   —   Who   is   commanding   me?   —   I,   lion,   a   guard,  

command  you.  —  Yourself  of  stone?  —  Yes.  —  How  did  you  become  able  to  speak?  —  
By   the   voice   of   a   daimon,   of   a   subterranean   man.   —   Well,   who   is   such   a   man,  
honoured  by  the  immortal  gods  so  that  he  can  produce  also  a  mortal  voice  here  to  
the  stone?  —  He  is,  dear  friend,  the  famous  hero  Heras  from  Memphis,  the  strong,  
eminent   among   many,   well-­‐known   among   the   natives   and   among   the   men   from  
distant   lands   (as   well),   because   of   his   good   cheer   and   his   splendour.   He   died   early,  
and   the   city   lamented   him,   and   he   was   buried   by   his   comrades;   he   really   was   the  
flower  of  his  well-­‐crowned  fatherland.  —  I  weep,  by  you,  daimon,  since  I  heard  that  
this  beast  speaks  so  great  things.  —  O  stranger,  I  hope  you  will  not  cry  for  relatives.  
—   May   your   famous   name   continue   to   eternity.   —   And   the   daimon   will   guard   you  
and  Tyche  will  save  you  for  all  your  life.  

                                                                                                                         
348 st nd
 Bernand,  Inscr.Metr.  68,  GVI  1843  =  GG  427,  1 /2  century  CE,  Saqqara,  Egypt.  Also  Hansen  1998,  
337.  cf.  Chapter  3,  no.  27  and  Garulli  2014,  70–2.  

  137  
  

The   first   speaker   is   the   monument.   It   opens   the   epigram   with   an   extra   turn,  
exhorting   the   passerby   to   stop   by   the   tomb:   στῆθι   φίλον   παρὰ   τύμβον,   ὁδοιπόρε.  
Both   an   imperative   (στῆθι)   and   an   address   (ὁδοιπόρε)   are   used.   After   this,   there   are  
six  adjacency  pairs:  four  question–answer  pairs  and  two  statement–response  pairs.  
In  the  first  question  (second  turn  of  the  whole  epigram,  end  of  line  1),  the  passerby  
asks   who   is   commanding   him:   τίς   με   κελεύει;   The   question   is   built   with   the  
interrogative  τίς.  The  use  of  με–σε  in  this  question–answer  pair  is  also  noteworthy:  
the  passerby  asks  who  commands  him,  and  the  monument  states  that  I,  a  guarding  
lion,  (command)  you,  τίς  με  κελεύει;  —  φρουρὸς  ἐγώ   σε  λέων.  This  repetition  links  
the  turns  together.  These  three  turns  (opening  turn  +  this  pair)  form  a  unit:  the  first  
turn  initiates  the  dialogue,  and  the  question–answer  structure  begins  in  the  second  
turn,  which  is  reaction  to  this  first  turn  (cf.  three-­‐turn  units  in  type  1):    
1.  στῆθι  φίλον  παρὰ  τύμβον,  ὁδοιπόρε.    
2.—  τίς  με  κελεύει;    
3.  —  φρουρὸς  ἐγώ  σε  λέων.  
The   following   question–answer   pair   (ll.   2–3)   also   concerns   the   monument:  
αὐτὸς  ὁ  λαΐνεος;  —  αὐτός.  After  this,  the  focus  shifts  to  the  voice  (which  reflects  the  
reception   situation):   —   φωνήεις   πόθεν   ἔπλεο;   —   δαίμονος   αὐδῆι   ἀνδρὸς  
ὑποχθονίο.   Next,   the   fourth   question   (at   the   end   of   line   4)   focuses   on   the   deceased:  
a  particle  is  used  again,  this  time  together  with  an  interrogative:  τίς  γὰρ  ὅδ᾽  ἐστὶν-­‐-­‐-­‐.  
The  particle  does  not  introduce  a  new  topic,  but  asks  about  the  deceased  and  how  
he   deserves   this   mortal   voice   –   the   passage   could   rather   be   translated:   but   who   is  
such  a  man…?  Consequently,  γάρ  instead  of  δέ  is  a  fitting  choice  in  this  context.    
The  reply  turn  to  this  begins  with  a  name,  and  the  speaker  then  goes  on  to  
tell   more   about   the   deceased   in   question.   Up   until   this   point,   the   epigram   is   a  
dialogue   between   the   monument   (the   lion)   and   the   passerby,   as   this   turn   also  
shows.   However,   the   next   turn   of   the   passerby   (from   l.   13   onwards)   has   a   new  
addressee:   δακρύω,   μὰ   σέ,   δαῖμον-­‐-­‐-­‐.   The   monument   says   in   lines   3–4   that   it   is  
δαίμονος   αὐδῆι   ἀνδρὸς   ὑποχθονίου,   and   instead   of   speaking   to   the   monument,   the  
passerby   now   speaks   directly   to   this   daimon   (=   the   deceased):   ὅσσ᾽   ἀγορεύει   θὴρ  

  138  
ὅδε   –   of   whom   this   beast   speaks   so   great   things.   The   beast   is   of   course   the   lion.   The  
deceased   then   replies,   and   begins   the   turn   with   an   imperative   and   an   address:   μὴ  
πηοῖς,  ὦ  ξένε-­‐-­‐-­‐.    
The   last   pair   is   a   pair   of   wishes.   The   optative,   as   expected,   is   used   in   both  
turns:   ἔλθοι   in   the   statement,   and   φυλάξει   and   σώσει   in   the   response   turn.   The  
response   turn   begins   with   a   particle,   καί,   which   links   the   turns   together:   ἔλθοι   ἐς  
αἰῶνα  κλυτὸν  οὔνομα.  —  καὶ  σὲ  φυλάξει  /  δαίμων  καὶ  σώσει  πάντα  Τύχη  βίοτον.    
There   are   many   details   in   the   carving   on   this   monument   that   help   the   reader  
to   follow   the   conversation;   a   double   dot   (:)   is   even   used   as   a   colon   to   mark   the  
speakers  (i.e.  the  place  where  the  speaker  changes).  Other  than  that,  there  are,  for  
example,  diacritical  dots,  medial  dots  indicating  the  pauses,  and  the  verses  are  ruled  
by  guidelines.349  
In   the   following   example,   there   is   also   a   separate   turn   or   move   before   the  
first  question:350  
 
15.     στάλα  μανύτειρα.—  τίς  ἐν  
κυαναυγέι  τύμβωι  |  
κεῖσαι;  καὶ  πάτραν  καὶ  γενέ-­‐  
την  ἔνεπε.  |  —  
           5     Ἀρσινόα,  κούρα  δ᾽  Ἀλίνης  
καὶ  Θηδοσίοιο,  |  
φαμισθὰ  δ᾽    Ὀνίου  γᾶ  τρο-­‐  
φὸς  ἁμετέρα.  —  |  
ποσσαέτης  δ᾽  ὤλισθας  ὑ-­‐  
           10     πὸ  σκοτόεν  κλίμα  Λάθας;  |  —  
ἰκοσέτης  γοερὸν  χῶρον  
ἔβην  νεκύων.  |  —  
ζευγίσθης  δὲ  γάμους;  —  <ζ>εύ-­‐  
χθην.  —  κατελίνπανες  αὐ-­‐  
                                                                                                                         
349
 For  more  details,  see  Edgar  1927,  31–2  and  Bernand  1969,  68.  
350 st
 GVI  1861  =  GG  429  =  SEG  8,  482,  1  century  CE,  Leontopolis,  Egypt.  For  the  dating  of  the  text,  see  
Momigliano  1932,  171–2.  Below  the  epigram:  (ἔτους)  ιϛʹ′,  Παῦνι  καʹ′.  
 

  139  
            15     τῷ  |  τέκνον;  —  ἄτεκνος  ἔ-­‐  
βαν  εἰς  Ἀίδαο  δόμους.  |  —  
ἴη  σοὶ  κούφα  χθὼν  ἁ  φθι-­‐  
μένοιο  φυλάκτωρ.  |  —  
καὶ  σοί,  ξεῖνε,  φέροι  καρπὸν  
           20     ἀπὸ  σταχύων.  |  
                   

(I  am  an)  informing  stele.  —  Who  are  you,  (who)  lie  in  the  dark-­‐gleaming  tomb?  Tell  
both   your   fatherland   and   your   parent(s).   —   I   am   Arsinoe,   daughter   of   Aline   and  
The(o)dosios,   and   praiseworthy   land   of   Onias   was   my   rearer.   —   With   how   many  
years   did   you   go   under   the   dark   slope   of   Lethe   (=Oblivion)?   —   I   was   20   years   old  
when  I  came  to  the  mournful  land  of  the  dead.  —  Were  you  bound  in  marriage?  —  
Yes,  I  was.  —  Did  you  leave  him  a  child?  —  I  was  childless  when  I  stepped  into  the  
house  of  Hades.  —  May  the  earth,  the  guardian  of  the  deceased  (body),  be  light  upon  
you.  —  And  to  you,  stranger,  may  the  earth  bring  fruit  from  the  ears  of  corn.  

The  speakers  are  again  the  passerby  and  the  deceased,  but  who  utters  the  opening  
of   the   epigram:   στάλα   μανύτειρα?   It   is   not   addressed   to   the   passerby   like   in   the  
previous  example  (no.  14).  Does  this  belong  to  the  passerby’s  turn?  It  seems  that  it  
cannot   be   a   vocative351  or,   at   least,   the   direction   of   the   speech   changes   immediately  
after  these  two  words.  Could  it  be  just  a  neutral  ‘declaration’  that  is  directed  to  no  
one   specifically,352  before   the   passerby   starts   to   talk   directly   to   the   deceased?   Is   it  
the  monument  itself?  It  seems  so.  This  first  ‘declaration’  draws  the  attention  to  the  
monument,  and  after  that,  the  question–answer  structure  follows.  The  first  question  
is   clearly   directed   to   the   deceased,   as   the   second   person   singular   κεῖσαι   (line   3)  
shows.  After  the  opening  turn,  there  are  four  question–answer  pairs,  and  a  pair  of  
wishes  at  the  end  of  the  epigram.  In  my  opinion,  the  first  turn  either  belongs  to  the  

                                                                                                                         
351
 cf.  Norsa  1931,  245.  In  the  previous  editions,  the  speaker  of  στάλα  μανύτειρα  was  left  
unidentified,  and,  from  the  first  question  onwards,  they  were  marked  as  the  passerby  and  the  
deceased.  
352
 The  idea  in  this  case  is  that  the  reader,  in  the  voice  of  the  passerby  role,  announces  to  the  
audience  (or  gets  to  know  himself)  that  the  stele  is  revealing  facts  that  will  now  follow.  

  140  
monument353  or  it  is  an  anonymous  declaration  before  the  dialogue  that  makes  the  
speaker  roles  easier  to  define.  
  The  first  question  turn,  from  the  end  of  line  1  onwards,  includes  two  question  
moves.   The   first   is   built   with   an   interrogative   and   a   verb:   τίς   ἐν   κυαναυγέϊ   τύμβωι  
|κεῖσαι;   The   second   is   arranged   with   an   imperative   and   an   accusative:   καὶ   πάτραν  
καὶ   γενέτην   ἔνεπε.   Note   also   the   repetition   of   the   particle.   In   the   reply   turn   (ll.   5–8),  
δέ  (used  twice)  separates  the  information  units:  κούρα  δ᾽  (l.  5)  and  φαμισθὰ  δ᾽  (l.  7).  
The   second   question   turn   (ll.   9–10)   is   introduced   by   an   interrogative   and   δέ  
(ποσσαέτης  δ᾽  ὤλισθας-­‐-­‐-­‐),  and  the  third  by  a  verb  and  δέ:  ζευγίσθης  δὲ  γάμους.  The  
fourth  and  the  fifth  questions  are  formed  without  markers.    
In  the  pair  of  wishes,  the  first  one  opens  with  the  formulaic  expression  ἴη  σοὶ  
κούφα  χθὼν-­‐-­‐-­‐  (ll.  17–18),  while  an  optative  is  used  in  the  last  turn  (ll.  19–20):  καὶ  
σοί,   ξεῖνε,   φέροι   καρπὸν   /   ἀπὸ   σταχύων.   Again,   καί   links   the   two   wishes   together,  
but  also  marks  the  change  of  the  turn  (and  speaker).    
In   this   epigram,   like   in   the   previous   one,   the   function   of   the   extra   turn   at   the  
beginning  of  the  epigram  is  to  draw  the  attention  of  the  recipient,  and  the  adjacency  
pair  structure  then  follows.354  In  the  following  epigram,  the  extra  turn  is  not  at  the  
beginning,  but  at  the  end  of  the  poem:  355  
 

16.     τίς  θάνεν;  —  Ἡρωίς.  —  πῶς  καὶ  πότε;  —  γαστρὸς  ἔχουσα  

 ὄγκον  ἐν  ὠδεῖσιν  θηκαμένη  τὸ  βάρος·∙  
μήτηρ  δ᾽  ἦν  πρὸς  μικρόν·∙  ἀπώλετο  καὶ  βρέφος  εὐθύ.  
   —  ἦν  δὲ  πόσων  ἐτέων  δύσμορος;  —  ἐννέα  δὶς  
                 5      ἡλικίης  ἄνθους  Ἡρωίδος.  —  ἀλλὰ  κόνιν  σοι  
   κούφην  καὶ  δοίη  ψυχρὸν  Ὄσειρις  ὕδωρ.  
                                     ζῆτι.  
 

Who  died?  —  Herois.  —  How  and  when?  —  She  had  a  baby  in  her  womb,  and  she  laid  
down   the   burden   in   the   pangs   of   childbirth.   But   she   was   mother   for   a   short   while  
                                                                                                                         
353
 Or  if  it  belongs  to  the  passerby,  we  should  perhaps  edit  στάλα  μανύτειρα·∙  τίς-­‐-­‐-­‐.  
354
 In  a  way,  no.  3  in  this  chapter  is  also  1  +  t2  (if  we  follow  the  turn  division  I  give  [following  SGO]).  
355 st nd
 GVI  1842  =  GG  426;  cf.  SEG  8,  802,  1 /2  century  CE,  Egypt.  Above  the  epigram:  (ἔτους)  ιεʹ′,  Θὼθ  
α̣ʹ′.  

  141  
(only),   (for)   the   new-­‐born   baby   died   immediately   also.   —   How   old   was   she,   the   ill-­‐
fated?  —  The  flower  of  Herois’  age  was  twice  nine  (years).  —  But  let  Osiris  give  you  
light  earth  and  cold  water.  
Live!  
 

In   this   epigram,   the   speakers   are   the   passerby   and   the   monument.   The   first   two  
questions   are   simple   interrogative   ones:   τίς   θάνεν   (1st   question   turn)   and   πῶς   καὶ  
πότε  (2nd  question  turn).  The  first  reply  turn  is  also  simple:  only  the  name  Ἡρωΐς.  In  
the  second  reply  turn  (ll.  1–2,  from  γαστρὸς  ἔχουσα  onwards),  it  is  first  reported  that  
the  deceased  died  in  childbirth  and  that  she  was  a  mother  for  a  short  while  only,  as  
the  baby  also  died.356  This  additional  information  is  introduced  with  δέ  (l.  3):  μήτηρ  
δ᾽  ἦν  πρὸς  μικρόν.  In  the  third  question  turn,  δέ  is  used  to  ask  further  information  
about   the   deceased   (how   old   was   she   when   she   died:   ἦν   δὲ   πόσων   ἐτέων  
δύσμορος).  The  question–answer  structure  is  followed  by  a  wish  turn.  The  passerby  
begins  this  turn  with  ἀλλά,  which  shifts  the  conversation  from  the  question–answer  
part   and   information   to   a   final   wish   of   the   epigram:   ἀλλὰ   κόνιν   σοι  κούφην   καὶ   δοίη  
ψυχρὸν   Ὄσειρις   ὕδωρ.   This   is   of   course   directed   to   the   deceased   and   not   to   the  
monument   anymore;   thus,   the   addressee   changes.   We   have   seen   the   epigrams   with  
pair  of  wishes  in  this  chapter,  but  here  the  deceased  does  not  reply.  The  extra  turn  
closes   the   epigram,   and   ἀλλά   marks   the   shift   from   the   pair   structure   to   this   last  
turn.357  Below  the  epigram  is  the  word  ζῆτι,  which  does  not  belong  to  the  epigram  
unity.  
In   two   cases,   there   are   two   extra   turns   in   each.   In   the   following   example,  
they  are  at  the  beginning  and  at  the  end  of  the  epigram:358  

                                                                                                                         
356
 For  the  peculiar  reading  of  lines  1–2,  see  Arvanitakis  1912,  169–71,  and  for  the  critique  and  the  
edition  presented  here,  see  Roussel  1914,  349–50.  
357
 For  other  t2  epigrams  with  the  extra  turn  at  the  end  of  the  epigram,  see  IG  XIV,  1603  =  GVI  1844  
(grave  of  a  horse;  five  Q  –  A  pairs  +  a  statement  turn  at  the  end  of  the  epigram  [ὦ  τιμῆς  |  
κρέσσ<ο>νος  ἡμιθέον])  and  GVI  1868  (five  adjacency  pairs  +  a  wish  turn  [λάβοι  νύ  σε  βῶλος  ἐλαφρή,  
σύμφωνον  πινυτῶι  σχόντα  λόγωι  βίοτον]).  In  addition  to  these,  Peek  restored  a  greeting  turn  at  the  
2
end  of  IG  II/III  10118  =  GVI  1872:  χαῖρε  καὶ  ἐν  φθιμένοις,  but  note  that  this  whole  sentence  is  
restored,  and  hence  the  whole  extra  turn  is  rather  dubious.  
358 nd rd
 Bernand,  Inscr.  Métr.  49;  cf.  GVI  1845,  2 /3  century  CE  (GVI),  Egypt.  An  epigram  by  Callimachus,  
AG  7.522,  has  similarities  at  the  beginning:  Τιμονόη  —  τίς  δ᾽  ἐσσί;  etc.  cf.  Künzle  1933,  76  and  Gow  
and  Page  1965,  196.  Also  Garulli  2014,  73–4  and  Christian  2015,  179  according  to  whom  the  first  
speaker  is  Isidora  herself  and  not  the  monument  –  as  stated  in  Chapter  2,  these  two  speaker  roles  can  
be  very  similar,  even  identical.  There  are  no  addresses  or  other  features  that  would  identify  the  
speaker  as  the  deceased,  and  I  am  inclined  to  see  monument  speaker  role  here.  

  142  
  

17.     ἄφθιτος,  οὐ  θνητή.  —  θαυμ̣ά̣[ζω],  

τίς  δ᾽;  —  Ἰσιδώρα.  —|  
τίς  πόλις;  —  αἱ  μεγάλαι  Θῆβαι.  
—  τίς  ἀνήρ;  —  Θεόδωρος.  —|  
5     ὦ  στήλη,  μικρά  γε,  λέγεις  δ᾽  
ὅτι  παντὸς  ἄριστον  |  
ἀνδρῶν,  θηλειῶν,  πόλεων,  
ὅσον  ἄχθος  ὑπέστης.  
 

Imperishable,   not   mortal.   —   I   wonder,   who   then?   —   Isidora.   —   Which   (was   her)  
town?   —   The   great   Theba.   —   Who   (was   her)   husband?   —   Theodoros.   —   O   stele,  
though  you  are  small,  you  say  that  you  laid  yourself  open  to  such  a  load  of  grief,  of  
the  very  best  of  men,  of  women,  of  cities!  

The  speakers  are  the  monument  and  the  passerby.  The  first  turn,  ἄφθιτος,  οὐ  θνητή  
resembles  number  15:  στάλα  μανύτειρα.  Here,  it  is  most  likely  the  monument  that  
says  this  –  it  is  unlikely  that  such  a  declaration  would  be  made  by  the  passerby,  and  
the   speaker   cannot   be   the   deceased   either,   as   she   is   talked   about   in   the   third  
person.    
  The  passerby  reacts  to  the  opening  with  θαυμ̣ά̣[ζω],  τίς  δ᾽;  The  passerby  does  
not   often   use   the   first   person   singular,359  but   here   the   first   person   introduces   the  
question   that   follows:   τίς   δ᾽;   This   turn   is   a   reaction   to   the   first   statement   (and   hence  
δέ   can   be   used   as   early   as   in   the   first   question.   In   that   sense,   this   question   is   a  
response  to  the  first  sentence,  but  this  also  starts  a  series  of  question–answer  pairs  
(three  of  them).  Hence,  the  beginning  is  a  three-­‐unit  turn  again.  The  epigram  forms  
four   monument–passerby   pairs,   but   if   we   look   at   the   turns,   the   structure   could   be  
defined  as  1  +  3  x  Q  –  A  +  1.  
At  the  end  of  the  epigram  (the  +1  turn),  the  passerby  has  a  longer  turn.  It  is  
not  a  closing  salutation  or  an  optative  wish,  but  rather  an  acclamation.  This,  again,  is  

                                                                                                                         
359
 The  case  ending  is  restored,  but  I  find  it  plausible,  if  the  uncertain  mu  and  alpha  are  correct  (-­‐ζω  
restored  by  Peek).  See  Peek  1932,  53–4  for  the  reading.  

  143  
a   reaction   to   the   information   given   by   the   monument   –   the   passerby   admires   the  
fact  that  the  small  stele  holds  such  a  burden  of  grief:  ὦ  στήλη,  μικρά  γε,  λέγεις  δ᾽  /  
ὅτι  παντὸς  ἄριστον  /  ἀνδρῶν,  θηλειῶν,  πόλεων,  /ὅσον  ἄχθο[ς  ὑ]πέστης.    
The  metre  of  this  epigram  is  hexameter,  and  the  end  of  each  verse  is  marked  
on  the  stone  by  <.360  This  does  not  help  to  determine  or  separate  the  speakers  and  
turns,   as   the   turns   are   shorter   than   a   verse,361  but   it   emphasises   the   metre,   as   is  
often  the  case  in  the  Imperial  period.    
The   following   epigram   also   contains   extra   turns   that   are   linked   to   the  
adjacency  pairs:362  
 
 
18.     Ἁρπάλου  εἰμὶ  τάφος.  —  τίνος  Ἁρπάλου;  —    Ἅρπαλον  ἴσθι  
δαιδαλέης  σοφίης  τὸν  πολυτεχνότατον.  —  
ἔγνων,  ὦ  Μοῖραι·∙  πολυμήχανος  ὤλετο  τέχνη·∙  
τίς  τούτῳ  ζώντων  ἄλλος  ὅμοιος  ἀνήρ;  
             5     —  οὗτος  ὁ  κοσμήσας  περιμήκεα  τείχεα  νηῶν,  
στήσας  αἰθούσσαις  κίονας  ὑψορόφους  
πολλάκι  καὶ  κορυφὰς  ὀρέων  ἴσα  κάρφεοι  κούροι  
ἤγαγε  πειθομένας  λεπταλέοισι  κάλοις.  
—  οὕτως  Ἀμφείων,  οὕτως  Ὀρφεύς  ποτε  πέτραις    
           10     μολπῇ  θελγομένας  ἦγον  ἄνευ  καμάτων.  
—  ἴσθι  καὶ  Ἁρπάλου  υἱὸν  Ἀχιλλέα  κείμενον  ὧδε,  
κοινὴ  δ᾽  ἀμφοτέρους  ἀμφεκάλυψε  σορός.  
—  ἀλλ᾽  οὐ  θαυμάζω·∙  κρατερώτερα  νήματα  Μοιρῶν,  
πρὸς  θάνατον  δ᾽  οὐδεὶς  μάγγανον  εὗρε  σοφῶν.  
 

I   am   the   tomb   of   Harpalos.   —   Of   which   Harpalos?   —   That   Harpalos,   you   must   know,  
who  was  highly  skilled  in  the  many  arts  of  cunning  wisdom.  —  I  understand,  ye  Fates:  
inventive   Art   is   passed   away.   What   other   living   man   was   like   unto   Harpalos?   —   It  
was   he   who   adorned   the   lofty   walls   of   temples,   supported   colonnades   with   pillars  
high  as  the  roof,  and  ofttimes  led  the  crests  of  mountains,  as  it  were  splinters  from  a  
                                                                                                                         
360
 Peek  1932,  53–4  and  Künzle  1933,  76.  
361
 Except  for  the  third  and  the  last  turn,  but  this  does  not  change  the  situation.  
362 rd  
 GVI  1846  =  BÉ  1944,  199a,  early  3 century  CE,  Hermoupolis  Magna,  Egypt.  

  144  
log,   by   the   persuasive   force   of   slender   ropes.   —   So   once   Amphion,   so   Orpheus   by   the  
charm  of  their  minstrelsy  led  rocks  without  effort.  —  Achilles,  too,  son  of  Harpalos,  
you   must   know,   lies   here:   a   common   urn   hides   the   dust   of   both.   —   Nay,   but   I   marvel  
not:   the   threads   spun   by   the   Fates   are   strong,   and   against   death   no   sage   has  
invented  a  charm.  
 
(Translation  by  Waddell)363  

 
The  speakers  are  the  passerby  and  the  monument.  As  in  numbers  14,  15  and  17,  the  
monument   starts   the   epigram   with   a   statement.   Here,   no   speculation   about   the  
speaker   is   needed   (compare   with   no.   14),   as   the   monument   speaks   in   the   first  
person:  Ἁρπάλου  εἰμὶ  τάφος.  The  response  to  this  is  a  question:  τίνος  Ἁρπάλου;  This  
question  is  replied  to  in  the  third  turn.  Like  in  the  previous  examples,  here  too  this  
question  turns  begins  a  question–answer  structure.  This  epigram  is  also  from  Egypt  
(as   are   examples   14,   15   and   17),   and   perhaps   the   rather   impersonal   opening  
sentence  was  a  local  habit.  We  have  only  these  three  examples,  but  if  we  read  them  
one   after   another,   it   seems   plausible   that   the   first   speaker   in   all   three   is   the  
monument  (in  this  epigram  it  is  clearly  indicated).364    
The  fourth  turn  in  this  epigram  is  a  reaction  to  the  previous  reply:  ἔγνων,  ὦ  
Μοῖραι·∙-­‐-­‐-­‐.   At   the   end   of   the   fourth   turn,   there   is   another   question:   τίς   τούτῳ  
ζώντων   ἄλλος   ὅμοιος   ἀνήρ;   In   his   commentary,   Waddell   speculates   about   the  
division  of  the  turns  and  suggests  that  it  is  possible  that  the  speaker  in  verses  5–10  is  
also   the   passerby,365  but   I   find   this   unlikely.   In   my   opinion,   the   division   presented  
here   (also   by   Waddell)   follows   the   conventions   of   type   2   more   closely   (cf.   other  
epigrams   presented   in   this   chapter   with   an   extra   turn   at   the   beginning).   After   the  
question  in  verse  4  (τίς  τούτῳ  ζώντων  ἄλλος  ὅμοιος  ἀνήρ;),  it  is  very  likely  that  the  
next  verses,  from  οὗτος  ὁ  κοσμήσας  περιμή<κ>εα  τείχεα  νηῶν  onwards,  belong  to  a  
different  speaker.  This  reply  turn  is  four  verses  long  (starting  from  the  beginning  of  
the   fifth   verse),   and   in   this   turn,   the   good   deeds   of   the   deceased   Harpalus   are  
explained.   After   this   (ll.   9–10),   the   passerby   comments   only   on   the   response.   The  
                                                                                                                         
363
 Waddell  1941,  107.  For  an  alternative  translation  for  line  8,  see  Skeat  1941,  69,  who  suggests  ‘with  
poles  thin  as  matchsticks’  and  explains  his  interpretation  of  the  construction  technique.    
364
 These  are  from  Egypt,  as  noted;  for  a  parallel  from  Thessalonica,  see  no.  6  in  Section  4.2.1  
(Attinas).  
365
 Waddell  1941,  108.  

  145  
turn   is   clearly   connected   to   the   previous   turn,   as   it   begins   with   a   reference   to   it:  
οὕτως  Ἀμφείων,  οὕτως  Ὀρφεύς  ποτε-­‐-­‐-­‐.  In  the  context  of  the  epigram,  this  is  actually  
another  ‘extra  turn’  in  addition  to  the  opening  turn.  This  ‘extra  turn’  is  the  third  turn,  
which   is  connected   to   a   question–answer   pair   that   precedes   it.   After   this   turn,   the  
last   adjacency   pair   of   the   epigram   follows.   This   is   a   statement–response   pair   (ll.  
11ff.):   ἴσθι   καὶ   Ἁρπάλου   υἱὸν   Ἀχιλλέα   κείμενον   ὧδε,   /   κοινὴ   δ᾽   ἀμφοτέρους  
ἀμφεκάλυψε   σορός.   /—   ἀλλ᾽   οὐ   θαυμάζω·∙   κρατερώτερα   νήματα   Μοιρῶν,   /πρὸς  
θάνατον  δ᾽  οὐδεὶς  μάγγανον  εὗρε  /  σοφῶν.  In  the  statement  turn,  the  speaker  is  the  
monument  again,  and  the  sentence  starts  with  an  imperative  and  a  particle:  ἴσθι  καὶ  
Ἁρπάλου   υἱὸν   Ἀχιλλέα   κείμενον   ὧδε-­‐-­‐-­‐.   The   response   to   this   turn   begins   with   a  
particle:  ἀλλ᾽οὐ  θαυμάζω-­‐-­‐-­‐.  As  in  the  previous  epigram  (no.  16),  here  the  passerby  
also  uses  the  rather  exceptional  first  person  (θαυμάζω).    
There   are   four   monument–passerby   pairs   in   this   epigram,   but   on   the   level   of  
the  pairs,  the  epigram  is  formed  as  follows:  1  +  2  x  Q  –  A  +  1  +  S  –  R.    

 
4.3  Type  2  and  the  non-­‐inscribed  epigram  tradition366  

When  the  epigram  became  a  literary  genre,  the  poets  not  only  composed  epigrams  
but   also   imitated   one   another.   In   the   earlier   verse-­‐inscription   tradition   (and   in  
inscription  tradition  in  general),  it  was  common  to  use  certain  phrases  and  canonical  
formulas.   It   is   not   surprising   that   the   renowned   poets   also   ‘recycled’   certain  
elements   or   even   whole   epigrams:   if   the   audience   was   already   familiar   with   the   text  
in   one   way   or   another,   it   was   perhaps   likely   to   favour   the   piece   more.   In   the  
examples  we  have  seen  so  far,  certain  elements  that  are  visible  in  type  1  are  used  
perhaps   in   an   even   more   formulistic   way   in   type   2   (question   formulas   especially).  
This   is   also   evident   in   the   fictive-­‐epigram   tradition   –   some   of   the   non-­‐inscribed  
epigrams  are  very  similar  to  the  inscribed  ones.  Often  it  is  difficult,  and  sometimes  
impossible,  to  tell  the  difference.367  It  may  also  be  difficult  to  tell  whether  the  text  

                                                                                                                         
366
 In  this  section,  I  will  concentrate  more  on  the  thematic  similarities  and  differences  than  on  the  
structure,  which  I  believe  is  discussed  in  such  detail  by  now  that  the  reader  can  detect  the  similarities  
in,  e.g.,  question  structures  or  in  imperatives  as  the  marker  of  the  switch  of  speaker.  
367
 Thomas  1998,  205  pointed  out  that:  ‘the  fiction  of  functionality  is  part  of  the  essence  of  the  
developing  epigrammatic  genre’.  In  this  study,  there  are  also  some  epigrams  that  can  be  found  both  
in  AG  and  in  a  verse  inscription  corpus  such  as  GVI  or  SGO.  

  146  
was  first  inscribed  and  then  later  copied  and  hence  found  its  way  to  the  anthologies,  
or   whether   it   was   purely   fictive.368  It   seems   that   epigrammatists   also   wrote   some  
monument   texts.369  The   verse   inscription   tradition   shows   in   the   literary   genre,   but  
the  non-­‐inscribed  epigrams  also  influenced  the  inscriptions,  and  both  ways  have  to  
be  taken  into  account.  

One  example  of  a  possible  re-­‐use  of  a  text  is  the  grave  epigram  composed  by  
Leonidas,  which  was  included  in  Peek’s  Vers-­‐Inschriften,  but  is  now  lost:370  

 
19.     τίς  τίνος  εὖσα,  γύναι,  Παρίην  ὑπὸ  κίονα  κεῖσαι;  
—  Πρηξὼ  Καλλιτέλευς.  —  καὶ  ποδαπή;  —  Σαμίη.  
—  τίς  δέ  σε  καὶ  κτερέιξε;  —  Θεόκριτος  ᾧ  με  γονῆες  
ἐξέδοσαν.  —  θνῄσκεις  δ᾽  ἐκ  τίνος;  —  ἐκ  τοκετοῦ.  
               5      —  εὖσα  πόσων  ἐτέων;  —  δύo  κεἴκοσιν.  —  ἦ  ῥα  γ᾽  ἄτεκνος;  
—  οὐκ,  ἀλλὰ  τριετῆ  Καλλιτέλην  ἔλιπον.  
—  ζώοι  σοι  κεῖνός  γε,  καὶ  ἐς  βαθὺ  γῆρας  ἵκοιτο.  
—  καὶ  σοί,  ξεῖνε,  πόροι  πάντα  Τύχη  τὰ  καλά.  

Who  and  whose  daughter  are  you,  woman,  lying  under  a  pillar  of  Parian  marble?  –  
Prexo,  daughter  of  Kalliteles.  —  And  from  where?  —  From  Samos.  —  And  who  buried  
you  (with  due  honours)?  —  Theocritus,  to  whom  my  parents  gave  me  in  marriage.  —  
What   caused   your   death?   —   Childbirth.   —   How   old   were   you?   —   Twenty-­‐two.   —  
Were  you  then  childless?  —  No,  I  left  behind  Calliteles,  who  is  three  years  old.  —  May  
he  live  and  reach  old  age.  —  And  to  you,  stranger,  may  Fortune  give  everything  good.    

The   speakers   in   this   epigram   are   the   passerby   and   the   deceased.371  The   epigram  
resembles   many   of   the   type-­‐2   epigrams   discussed   in   the   previous   sections.372  The  

                                                                                                                         
368
 Bettenworth  2007,  75  rightly  mentions  that  some  poems  of  the  Anthology  were  surely  inscribed  
first.  She  also  points  out  that:  ‘Greek  (and  Roman)  epigrammatists  did  not  develop  neatly  identifiable  
characteristics  of  ’literary’  inscriptions‘  (and  that  it  is  thus  sometimes  difficult  to  tell  if  some  
phenomena  of  literary  epigrams  have  their  roots  in  inscribed  ones  or  not);  cf.  p.  85.  
369
 On  the  other  hand,  not  all  of  the  verse  inscriptions  were  written  by  professional  poets.  
370 rd
 GVI  1858  =  AG  7.163,  3  century  CE,  provenience  unknown  (now  lost).  According  to  Page  1981,  6–
7,  this  was  possibly  a  ‘literary  exercise’  that  became  popular  and  was  later  used  as  a  model  for  
inscribed  epitaphs.  There  are  many  imitations  of  this  epigram:  see  Gow  and  Page  1965,  50.  
371
 cf.  Rasche  1910,  5.  

  147  
elements  that  constitute  the  dialogue  are  very  similar  to  what  we  have  seen  so  far:  
the   first   question   begins   with   a   double   interrogative   (τίς   τίνος),   and   an   address   is  
also  used  (γύναι).  The  deceased  replies  with  her  name.  The  second  question  is  linked  
to  the  previous  pair  by  καί,  and  the  third  question  contains  are  δέ,  an  interrogative  
and  καί  (l.  2):  τίς  δέ  σε  καὶ  κτερέιξε;  In  the  fourth  question  turn,  δέ  is  used  again  (l.  
4):   θνῄσκεις   δ᾽ἐκ   τίνος;   In   the   fifth   adjacency   pair,   the   question   is   formed   with   a  
participle:  εὖσα  πόσων  ἐτέων.  The  sixth  question  begins  with  an  ἦ  ῥα  structure:  ἦ  ῥα  
γ᾽  ἄτεκνος  (l.  5).373  Here,  γε  emphasises  the  question  and  ἦ  ῥα  γ᾽  marks  the  shift  to  
another   information   unit:   Were   you   childless   then?   The   question   is   replied   to   with  
οὔκ,  ἀλλά-­‐-­‐-­‐,  and  ἀλλά  is  used  in  an  adversative  sense  here  (l.  6).  This  pair  is  used  to  
inform  the  recipient  about  the  family  of  the  deceased:  (Were  you  childless  then?)  –  
No,  (but)  I  left  Kalliteles  who  is  three  years  old.  At  the  end  of  the  epigram,  after  five  
Q   –   A   pairs,   there   is   a   pair   of   wishes   (ll.   7–8).   The   change   of   speaker   is   easy   to  
identify   because   the   optative   mood   is   used   again.   The   passerby   begins,   and   the  
deceased  replies,  starting  with  καὶ  σοί,  ξεῖνε.  As  in  many  cases  we  have  seen  so  far,  
καί  is  used  at  the  beginning  of  a  reply  wish.    

Two  epigrams  imitate  this  poem.374  Rather  than  plagiarism,  however,  it  was  
seen  as  something  positive  if  one  could  replicate  an  appreciated  poem375;  and  why  
not?   Even   though   the   text   was   carved   on   stone,   as   apparently   was   the   case   with  
Leonidas’   epigram   (although   now   lost),   the   writers   knew   that   their   texts   would  
probably  be  circulated  in  book  form  also,  and  that  they  would  probably  be  read  for  
an  audience.  Now,  if  the  audience  knew  the  piece  the  epigram  imitated  or  variated,  
perhaps  they  were  rather  delighted  by  this  literary  play.  

By  the  first  centuries  BCE/CE,  it  seems  that  the  medium  of  the  epigram  was  
not   that   relevant   anymore:   each   epigram   could   have   different   kinds   of   audiences  
and   reception   situations.   If   we   think   about,   for   example,   number   19,   there   had  
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           
372
 e.g.  nos.  1  and  2  in  Chapter  4.  
373
 Compare  with  no.  10  in  this  chapter:  τίς  ἦ  ῥα  τύμβῳ  τῷδ᾽  ὕπεσσ᾽;  
374
 AG  7.164  by  Antipater  of  Sidon  and  7.165,  either  by  Antipatrer  or  possibly  Archias.  cf.  Gow  and  
Page  1968,  441.  
375
 cf.  Gutzwiller  2007,  118:  ‘Although  the  very  similar  versions  by  Antipater  and  Archias  are  hardly  
improvements,  the  poets  apparently  prided  themselves  on  their  ability  to  replicate  a  much-­‐admired  
epigram’.  For  Archias,  see  Gow  and  Page  1968,  441  (cf.  Antipater  of  Sidon,  ibid.).  Amyntas  also  used  
the  model:  Page  1981,  6–7.  

  148  
probably   been   reception   of   the   epigram   near   the   monument   in   the   funerary  
ritualthe   epigram   had   probably   been   read   aloud   near   the   monument   during   the  
funeral   ritual,   and   hence   the   family   had   heard   the   poem.   After   that,   random  
passersby  may  have  read  it.  However,  as  it  was  written  by  a  known  epigrammatist,  
the  text  had  probably  also  been  read  outside  the  funeral  context,  at  the  latest  after  
it  was  included  in  the  Anthologia.    

At   a   quick   glance,   the   following   epigram   is   also   reminiscent   of   the   verse  

inscriptions,  but  a  closer  look  reveals  some  differences:376  

 
20.     ὦ  ξένε,  τί  κλαίεις;  —  διὰ  σὸν  μόρον.  —  οἶσθα  τίς  εἰμι;    
     —  οὐ  μὰ  τὸν,  ἀλλ᾽  ἔμπης  οἰκτρὸν  ὁρῶ  τὸ  τέλος.    
ἐσσὶ  δὲ  τίς;  —  Περίκλεια.  —  γυνὴ  τίνος;  —    ἀνδρὸς  ἀρίστου,    
     ῥήτορος,  ἐξ  Ἀσίης,  οὔνομα  Μεμνονίου.    
—  πῶς  δέ  σε  Βοσπορίη  κατέχει  κόνις;  —  εἴρεο  Μοῖραν,    
     ἥ  μοι  τῆλε  πάτρης  ξεῖνον  ἔδωκε  τάφον.    
—  παῖδα  λίπες;  —  τριέτηρον,  ὃς  ἐν  μεγάροισιν  ἀλύων    
     ἐκδέχεται  μαζῶν  ἡμετέρων  σταγόνα.    
—  αἴθε  καλῶς  ζώοι.  —  ναί,  ναί,  φίλος,  εὔχεο  κείνῳ,    
     ὄφρα  μοι  ἡβήσας  δάκρυ  φίλον  σταλάοι.  
 

Stranger,  why  do  you  cry?  —  For  your  fate.  —  Do  you  know  who  I  am?  —  No,  by  -­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐!  
But  still  I  see  your  end  was  pitiable;  who  are  you?  —  Periclea.  —  Whose  wife?  —  Of  a  
noble   man,   a   rhetor   from   Asia,   whose   name   is   Memnonius.   —   And   how   is   it   that   you  
lie  in  Bosporian  dust?  —  Ask  Fate,  who  gave  me  a  strange  tomb  far  away  from  my  
country.  —  Did  you  leave  a  child?  —  One  of  three  years  old,  who  wanders  around  the  
house   seeking   the   milk   of   my   breasts.   —   May   he   live   and   have   it   all   well.   —   Yes,   yes,  
friend,  pray  for  him,  that  he  may  grow  up  and  shed  dear  tears  for  me.      
 
(Translation  following  Paton,  but  with  my  own  minor  alterations)  
 

The  speakers  in  the  epigram  are  the  passerby  and  the  deceased.  The  epigram  begins  
with   a   question   turn   that   uses   an   address   and   an   interrogative,   but   instead   of   the  
                                                                                                                         
376
 Agathias  Scholasticus,  AG  7.552  

  149  
passerby   (who   would   ask   the   deceased   some   questions),   it   is   the   deceased   who  
speaks  in  the  opening  turn.  She  addresses  the  passerby:  ὦ  ξένε,  τί  κλαίεις;  In  verse  
inscriptions,   we   do   not   often   have   this   kind   of   references   to   the   mourning  
passerby.377  Some   sort   of   a   lament   was   probably   part   of   the   ritual,   but   still   the  
passerby   role   is   most   often   emotionally   neutral,   or   the   lament   follows   the  
information;   in   other   words,   it   is   implied   that   the   passerby   laments   the   deceased  
after  s/he  has  learned  the  miserable  fate  of  the  deceased.    
Here,   however,   the   passerby   declares   that   s/he   mourns   for   the   deceased,  
even  though  s/he  does  not  know  anything  about  her  yet.  To  the  question  τί  κλαίεις;,  
the   reply   is   διὰ   σὸν   μόρον,   for   your   fate.   To   this,   the   deceased   wonders   if   the  
passerby   even   knows   who   she   is:   οἶσθα   τίς   εἰμι;   The   passerby   does   not   know,   but  
says  s/he  can  see  that  the  deceased  has  met  a  wretched  end:  οὐ  μὰ  τὸν  ἀλλ᾽  ἔμπης  
οἰκτρὸν  ὁρῶ  τὸ  τέλος.  After  this,  the  passerby  asks  ἐσσὶ  δὲ  τίς;378  Up  until  this  point,  
the  questions  have  been  asked  by  the  deceased  and  answered  by  the  passerby,  but  
this   turn   reverses   the   situation.   The   passerby   first   replies   to   a   question,   but   then  
proceeds  to  also  ask  a  question.  From  here  onwards  (l.  3),  the  epigram  looks  like  a  
funerary   verse   inscription.   Several   question–answer   pairs   about   the   deceased   and  
her   family   follow,   and   at   the   end   of   the   epigram,   there   is   a   pair   of   wishes.   The  
passerby  hopes  the  son  of  the  deceased  will  live  on:  αἴθε  καλῶς  ζώοι.  The  reply  to  
this   (ναί,   ναί,   φίλος,   εὔχεο   κείνῳ,   ὄφρα   μοι   ἡβήσας   δάκρυ   φίλον   σταλάοι)   is   also  
something   we   do   not   usually   see   in   verse   inscriptions.   It   is   more   common   for   the  
deceased  to  wish  the  passerby  well,  not  to  comment  on  what  s/he  has  said  in  this  
manner.  
Non-­‐inscribed   epigrams   often   feature   passerby–monument   and   passerby–
deceased   pairs,   but   their   contents   differ   from   the   monumental   epigrams.   Some   of  
the   fictive   dialogues   are   thoroughly   reminiscent   of   inscribed   epigrams,   but   some,  
despite   the   similar   structures,   discuss,   for   example,   life   after   death   or   other   more  
abstract  phenomena,  and  do  not  imitate  the  structure  of  verse  inscriptions.  Hence,  
the  speaker   pairs   familiar   from   the   inscriptions   function  as  a   set   framework   for   new,  

                                                                                                                         
377
 Although  there  was  the  anonymous  mourner  role;  cf.  Chapter  2.  Furthermore,  in  no.  14  (this  
chapter),  the  passerby  himself  states:  I  weep,  by  you-­‐-­‐-­‐:  δάκρυω,  μὰ  σέ  -­‐-­‐-­‐.    
378
 Shift  back  to  a  new  question/information.  

  150  
often   death-­‐related,   themes.   The   following   epigram,   for   example,   borrows   the  
theme  and  the  pair  structure  of  the  funerary  verse  inscriptions,  but  does  not  imitate  
the  content  at  all:379  
 
21.     ἄγριός  ἐστι  Χάρων.  —  πλέον  ἤπιος.  —  ἥρπασεν  ἤδη    
     τὸν  νέον.  —  ἀλλὰ  νόῳ  τοῖς  πολιοῖσιν  ἴσον.    
—  τερπωλῆς  δ᾽  ἀπέπαυσεν.  —    ἀπεστυφέλιξε  δὲ  μόχθων.    
     —    οὐκ  ἐνόησε  γάμους.  —  οὐδὲ  γάμων  ὀδύνας.  
 
Charon   is   savage.   —   Kind,   rather.   —   He   carried   off   the   young   man   so   soon.   —   But   in  
mind   he   was   the   equal   of   greybeards.   —   He   cut   him   off   from   pleasure.   —   But   he  
thrust   him   out   of   the   way   of   trouble.   —   He   knew   not   wedlock.   —   Nor   the   pains   of  
wedlock.  
 
(Translation  by  Paton)  
 

The  theme  of  untimely  death  is  common  in  verse  inscriptions,  and  is  also  visible  in  
the  type-­‐2  epigrams,  but  the  whole  idea  is  played  with  in  this  example.  In  the  grave  
inscriptions,  the  fate  of  the  deceased  is  presented  as  something  mournful,  but  here  
the   second   speaker   states   that   Charon   is   kind,   rather.   The   deceased’s   death   is  
illustrated   as   something   good.   Also,   the   fact   that   the   deceased   was   not   married   is  
presented,  not  as  tragic  (as  in  grave  inscriptions),  but  as  a  relief  to  the  deceased:  οὐκ  
ἐνόησε  γάμους.  –  οὐδὲ  γάμων  ὀδύνας.  There  are  elements  in  this  epigram  that  are  
common  in  the  inscribed  texts,  but  the  speakers  are  not  identifiable  anymore,  and  
the  epigram  functions  on  a  rather  fictitious,  abstract  level.  
  The   grave   verse   inscriptions   are   clearly   ‘visible’   in   the   non-­‐inscribed  
epigrams,   but   other   monument   types   have   influenced   them   as   well.   An   epigram  
about  Hippocrates’  portrait  bears  a  resemblance  to  honorary  epigrams:380  
 
 

                                                                                                                         
379
 AG  7.603,  Julianus,  Prefect  of  Egypt.  
380
 AG  16.267,  Synesius  Scholasticus.  

  151  
22.     εἰς  εἰκόνα    Ἱπποκράτους    
ὁππόθεν  ὁ  στήσας;  —  Βυζάντιος.  —    οὔνομα  δὴ  τίς;    
     —    Εὐσέβιος.  —    σύ  δὲ  τίς;  —    Κώιος  Ἱπποκράτης.    
—  τοῦ  δ᾽  ἕνεκεν  γέγραφέν  σε;  —  λόγων  χάριν  ἡ  πόλις  αὐτῷ    
     τῶν  ἐς  ἐμὲ  γραφίδων  ἀντιδέδωκε  γέρας.    
—    καὶ  τί  μὴ  αὐτὸς  ἑὸν  τύπον  ἔγραφεν;  —  ὅττι,  γεραίρων    
     ἡμέας  ἀνθ᾽  αὑτοῦ,  κρέσσονα  δόξαν  ἔχει.    
 

From  where  was  he  who  placed  this  here?  —  From  Byzantium.  —  And  his  name?  —  
Eusebius.   —   And   who   are   you?   —   Hippocrates   of   Cos.   —   And   why   has   he   painted  
you?   —   In   return   for   his   discourses   the   city   gave   him   the   privilege   of   making   my  
picture.   —And   why   did   he   not   paint   his   own   portrait?   —   Because   by   honoring   me  
instead  of  himself,  he  gains  greater  glory.  

 (Translation  following  Paton,  but  with  my  own  minor  alterations)  

The  speakers  of  this  epigram  are  clearly  the  passerby  and  the  monument381,  as  the  
second   person   singular   (in   the   passerby’s   turn)   and   the   general   context   show.   The  
epigram   is   based   on   question–answer   pairs,   and   interrogatives   are   given   with   the  
particles   δέ   and   καί.   The   questions   are   familiar:   who   dedicated   the   monument,   who  
is  the  person  celebrated  in  the  monument  and  for  what  reason  is  the  monument  set  
up?  In  the  last  question–answer  pair,  the  passerby  asks  why  the  painter  did  not  paint  
his  own  picture,  and  to  this  the  honorand  replies  that  the  person  who  commissioned  
the   portrait   would   gain   greater   glory   by   honouring   the   person   depicted   than   by  
setting  up  his  own  portrait:  καὶ  τί  μὴ  αὐτὸς  ἑὸν  τύπον  ἔγραφεν;  –  ὅττι,  γεραίρων  /  
ἡμέας  ἀνθ᾽  αὑτοῦ,  κρέσσονα  δόξαν  ἔχει.    
  Dialogue  was  also  used  in  the  following  ecphrastic  epigram:382  
 

23.   τίς,  πόθεν  ὁ  πλάστης;  —  Σικυώνιος.  —  οὔνομα  δὴ  τίς;    

     —  Λύσιππος.  —  σὺ  δὲ  τίς;  —  καιρὸς  ὁ  πανδαμάτωρ.    

                                                                                                                         
381
 Monument  as  a  speaker  role  obviously  represents  the  honored  person  –  these  roles  are  partly  
mixed  here.  
382
 AG  16.275  =  Posidippus  19,  Gow  and  Page.  

  152  
 —  τίπτε  δ᾽  ἐπ᾽  ἄκρα  βέβηκας;  —  ἀεὶ  τροχάω.  —  τί  δὲ  ταρσοὺς    
     ποσσὶν  ἔχεις  διφυεῖς;    —  ἵπταμ᾽  ὑπηνέμιος.    
               5     —  χειρὶ  δὲ  δεξιτερῇ  τί  φέρεις  ξυρόν;  —  ἀνδράσι  δεῖγμα,    
     ὡς  ἀκμῆς  πάσης  ὀξύτερος  τελέθω.    
—  ἡ  δὲ  κόμη,  τί  κατ᾽  ὄψιν;  —  ὑπαντιάσαντι  λαβέσθαι.    
     —  νὴ  Δία,  τἀξόπιθεν  δ᾽  εἰς  τί  φαλακρὰ  πέλει;    
—  τὸν  γὰρ  ἅπαξ  πτηνοῖσι  παραθρέξαντά  με  ποσσὶν    
             10          οὔτις  ἔθ᾽  ἱμείρων  δράξεται  ἐξόπιθεν.    
—  τοὔνεχ᾽  ὁ  τεχνίτης  σε  διέπλασεν;  —  εἵνεκεν  ὑμέων,    
     ξεῖνε·∙  καὶ  ἐν  προθύροις  θῆκε  διδασκαλίην.  
 
 
Who  and  from  where  is  the  sculptor?  —  From  Sicyon.  —  And  his  name?  —  Lysippus.  
—  And  who  are  you?   —  Kairos  the  all-­‐subduer.  —  Why  do  you  stand  on  tip-­‐toe?  —  I  
am  always  running.  —  Why  do  you  have  a  pair  of  wings  on  your  feet?  —  I  fly  with  the  
wind.  —  Why  do  you  hold  a  razor  in  your  right  hand?  —  As  a  sign  to  men  that  I  am  
sharper  than  any  edge.  —  And  why  is  there  hair  over  your  face?  —  For  the  one  who  
meets  me  to  grasp  at.  —  And  by  Zeus,  why  is  the  back  of  your  head  bald?  —  Because  
none  whom  I  have  once  raced  by  on  my  winged  feet  will  now,  though  he  wishes  it,  
take   hold   of   me   from   behind.   —   Why   did   the   artist   fashion   you?   —   For   your   sake,  
stranger,  and  he  set  me  up  in  the  portico  as  a  lesson.  

(Translation  in  Männlein-­‐Robert,  after  Austin  and  Bastianini)383  

In   this   epigram,   the   monument   describes   itself   via   two   speakers,   namely   the  
passerby   and   the   monument.   At   the   same   time,   however,   the   epigram   is   a  
description   of   time,   of   the   fleeing   moments   that   we   cannot   depict   in   a   bronze  
statue.384  With   the   question–answer   structure,   information   such   as   the   identity   of  
the   sculptor   is   given,   and   the   sculpture   is   then   described   within   the   further   pair  
structure.  The  dialogue  is  hence  used  to  describe  a  statue  (in  place  of  the  deceased),  
and   the   facts   about   the   sculptor   are   also   told   at   the   beginning   (his   name   and   his  
fatherland,   in   place   of   facts   about   the   deceased   again),   and   the   monument   even  
                                                                                                                         
383
 Austin  and  Bastianini  2002,  181.  cf.  Paton.  
384
 For  an  interpretation  of  the  epigram,  see  Männlein-­‐Robert  2007,  260–2.  Concerning  dialogues  with  
statues,  see  Rasche  1910  and  Kassel  1983.  Also  Burzachechi  1962,  even  though  I  do  not  agree  with  
him  on  animism:  see  Chapter  2.  

  153  
addresses  the  passerby  with  ξεῖνε  (l.  12).  The  passerby-­‐monument  pair,  familiar  from  
the   grave   inscriptions,   is   common   in   fictive   ecphrastic   epigrams.   Thus   the   speaker  
roles  and  the  structure  look  similar  to  the  ones  we  know  from  the  inscriptions,  but  
the  content  is  different.  We  can  find  some  self-­‐referentiality  in  verse  inscriptions  as  
well,385  but   the   thematic   variation   makes   this   epigram   different   from   its   inscribed  
counterparts.    
In  the  following  example,  the  writer  plays  with  the  expectations  connected  to  
the  question–answer  structures:386    
 

24.     Χῖος  ἔφυς;  —  οὔ  φημι.  —    τί  δαί,  Σμυρναῖος;  —    ἀπαυδῶ.    

     —    Κύμη  δ᾽  ἢ  Κολοφὼν  πατρίς,  Ὅμηρε,  σέθεν;    
—    Οὐδετέρη.  —    Σαλαμὶς  δὲ  τεὴ  πόλις;  —  οὐδ᾽  ἀπὸ  ταύτης    
     ἐξέφυν.  —  ἀλλ᾽  αὐτὸς  λέξον,  ὅπῃ  γέγονας.    
—  οὐκ  ἐρέω.  —    τίνος  ἦρα;  —  πέπεισμ᾽  ὅτι  τἀτρεκὲς  εἰπὼν    
     ἕξω  τὰς  ἄλλας  ἄμμιν  ἀπεχθομένας.  
 
Were   you   raised   on   Chios?   —   I   say,   no.   —   What   then,   a   Smyrnian?   —   I   deny   it.   —  
Was   Cyme   or   Colophon   your   homeland,   Homer?   —   Neither.   —   Was   Salamis   your  
city?   —   No,   I   am   not   from   there   either.   —   But   tell   me   yourself   where   you   were   born.  
—  I  will  not.  —  Wherefore?  —  I  know  for  sure  that  if  I  tell  the  truth,  I  shall  make  the  
other  cities  my  enemies.    

(Τranslation  following  Paton,  but  with  minor  alterations)    

Of   the   five   question–answer   pairs   in   this   epigram,   four   concentrate   on   the   same  
question:   where   was   Homer,   who   is   addressed   in   the   epigram,   from?   The   other  
speaker   role   is   not   identified,   but   due   to   the   question   structure,   it   resembles   the  
passerby   role,   and   the   questions   are   similar   to   the   ones   that   the   passerby   asks.  
Details  such  as  δέ  attached  to  questions  and  ἀλλ᾽  after  the  chain  of  questions  when  a  
new   viewpoint   is   adapted   (you   tell,   then,   after   the   passerby   has   tried   to   guess   the  
fatherland)  are  also  familiar  from  the  verse  inscriptions.  Yet,  the  content,  especially  

                                                                                                                         
385
 cf.  Chapter  2,  esp.  2.3.1  and  2.3.2.  
386
 AG  16.299,  anonymous.  

  154  
the   twist   at   the   end   (πέπεισμ᾽,   ὅτι   τἀτρεκὲς   εἰπὼν   /ἕξω   τὰς   ἄλλας   ἄμμιν  
ἀπεχθομένας   –   I   know   for   sure   that   if   I   tell   the   truth,   I   shall   make   the   other   cities   my  
enemies),  is  of  course  different  from  the  verse  inscriptions’  context.  
  Another   epigram   also   plays   with   the   expectations   that   a   recipient   familiar  
with  the  funerary  epigrams  would  have:387  
 
25.   οὔνομά  μοι  —  τί  δὲ  τοῦτο;  —    πατρὶς  δέ  μοι  —  ἐς  τί  δὲ  τοῦτο;  
     —  κλεινοῦ  δ᾽  εἰμὶ  γένους.  —  εἰ  γὰρ  ἀφαυροτάτου;  
—  ζήσας  δ᾽  ἐνδόξως  ἔλιπον  βίον.  —  εἰ  γὰρ  ἀδόξως;  
     —  κεῖμαι  δ᾽  ἐνθάδε  νῦν.  —  τίς  τίνι  ταῦτα  λέγεις;  
 

My   name   is...   —   What   does   it   matter?   —   My   country   is…   —   And   what   does   that  
matter?  —  I  am  of  noble  race.  —  And  if  you  were  of  the  very  dregs?  —  I  quitted  life  
with  a  good  reputation.  —  And  had  it  been  a  bad  one?  —  And  I  now  lie  here.  —  Who  
are  you  and  to  whom  are  you  telling  this?  

 
(Translation  by  Paton)  
 
 
In   this   epigram,   the   deceased   tries   to   tell   all   the   facts   that   the   passerby   would  
normally   want   to   know:   his   name,   his   fatherland   and   his   reputation.   However,   the  
passerby  reacts  to  this  with  a  set  of  arrogant  questions;  the  message  of  all  of  them  is  
basically  ‘so  what’?  Hence,  instead  of  an  enquirer,  the  passerby  here  is  indifferent  (τί  
δὲ  τοῦτο;),  and  his  other  questions  are  haughty  refusals  to  take  in  the  information.  
At  the  end  of  the  epigram,  the  passerby  even  asks  who  are  you  and  why  do  you  tell  
me  all  this?  τίς  τίνι  ταῦτα  λέγεις;  This  epigram  mocks  the  traditions  of  the  funerary  
dialogue   epigrams.388  The   point   is   not   to   ask   who   you   are,   but   indeed   to   indicate  
‘why   are   you   telling   me   this?’.   The   expectations   are   not   met,   and   the   Gricean  
maxims  are  not  functioning  here.  
As   in   the   case   of   type-­‐1   epigrams,   there   are   also   type-­‐2   epigrams   which   do  
not   have   any   ‘monumental   context’,   meaning   that   they   do   not   imitate   the   verse  
inscriptions.   The   dialogue   was   used   in   different   kinds   of   texts,   for   example   in  
                                                                                                                         
387
 AG  7.307,  Paulus  Silentiarius.  cf.  Rasche  1910,  31.  
388
 cf.  Rasche  1910,  31.  

  155  
amatory   epigrams   and   Christian   morals,   which   are   not   fixed   to   a   monumental  
context.389  An  isopsephic  epigram  by  Leonidas  of  Alexandria  contains  an  interesting  
combination   of   an   abstract   theme   and   references   to   monument   epigram  
structures:390    

26.     τίς  Δάμων  Ἀργεῖος  ἐπ᾽  ἠρίῳ;  ἆρα  σύναιμος  

     ἐστὶ  Δικαιοτέλους;  —  ἐστὶ  Δικαιοτέλους.  
Ἠχὼ  τοῦτ᾽  ἐλάλησε  πανύστατον  ἢ  τόδ’  ἀληθές,  
     κεῖνος  ὅδ᾽  ἐστὶν  ἀνήρ;  —  κεῖνος  ὅδ᾽  ἐστὶν  ἀνήρ.  

Who   is   the   Argive   Damon   on   the   tomb?391  Is   he   a   brother   of   Dicaeoteles?   —   A  

brother  of  Dicaeoteles.  —  Did  Echo  speak  the  last  words,  or  is  it  true  that  this  is  the  
man?  —  This  is  the  man.  

(Translation  by  Paton)  

At   first   glance,   this   looks   like   a   passerby–monument   or   passerby–deceased   epigram.  

The  first  turn  consists  of  two  question  sentences.  The  first  one  uses  the  interrogative  
τίς,  and  the  second  begins  with  ἆρα.  The  reply  turn  repeats  the  last  two  words  of  the  
latter   question.   The   same   happens   in   the   second   adjacency   pair:   the   reply   turn  
consists   of   the   last   word   of   the   question   turn.   Both   these   repetitions   form   a   verse  
(pentameter)   each:   (-­‐-­‐-­‐)   ἐστὶ   Δικαιοτέλους;   ἐστὶ   Δικαιοτέλους   and   (-­‐-­‐-­‐)   κεῖνος   ὅδ᾽  
ἐστὶν  ἀνήρ;  κεῖνος  ὅδ᾽  ἐστὶν  ἀνήρ.  
Here,   the   passerby   opens   the   poem   with   his   questions.   The   echo   answers,   as  
the   passerby   suspects   in   his   second   turn.   The   traditional   frame   of   dialogue   is   used  
here  for  literary  purposes,  which  the  echo  clearly  shows.  The  epigram  is  playing  with  
the   conventions   of   talking   and   listening,   the   change   of   speaker,   and   even   with   the  
speaker   roles:   instead   of   the   deceased,   the   the   echo   is   talking   (despite   what   the   last  
line  says),  and  the  passerby  expresses  his  confusion  concerning  the  matter  when  he  
asks  whether  it  was  the  echo  or  the  man  who  spoke.  This  is  perhaps  also  a  reference  

                                                                                                                         
389
 For  other  themes,  see  del  Barrio  Vega  1989,  198–201.  
390
 AG  7.548.  cf.  Wolfe  2013,  136  and  Christian  2015,  121.  
391
 The  name  Δάμων  instead  of  δαίμων  was  first  suggested  by  Radiger:  see  Page  1981,  520.  For  
isopsephic,  see  ibid.,  508–10.  

  156  
to  the  speaker  role  of  the  deceased  in  the  monuments,  i.e.  to  the  artificial  situation  
where  the  deceased  ‘speaks’.    

4.4  Conclusion  

Type-­‐2   epigrams   are   the   second   largest   group   of   dialogue   epigrams.   Both   in  
structure   and   in   themes,   we   can   see   the   influence   of   the   fictive   epigram   genre,   or  
their   parallel   development.   Adaption   and   imitation   can   be   seen   both   in   the   verse  
inscriptions   and   in   the   non-­‐inscribed   epigrams   that   use   the   patterns   familiar   from  
their  inscribed  counterparts.  In  the  fictive  type-­‐2  epigrams,  the  speaker  roles  and  the  
themes   of   the   epigrams   are   varied.   There   are   epigrams   that   follow   or   imitate,   for  
example,   grave   epigrams   and   other   monument   texts,   but   also   epigrams   that   are  
completely   free   from   monumental   contexts,   and   epigrams   that   twist   the   old  
conventions.392    

  On  the  level  of  the  pair  structure,  there  is  variation  in  type  2  from  compact,  
short-­‐turned  epigrams  to  lenghty  conversations.  The  length  of  type-­‐2  epigrams  thus  
varies,  as  does  the  length  and  the  number  of  the  turns.  The  minimum  is  two  short  
pairs  (cf.  nos.  4–6  in  this  chapter),  but  a  two-­‐pair  epigram  can  also  be  a  longer  entity,  
if   each   of   the   turns   is   several   verses   long   (cf.   no.   12).   There   are   also   type-­‐2   epigrams  
with  several  pairs  (e.g.  no.  7),  and  their  length  varies  as  well.  In  some  epigrams,  the  
turns  follow  the  verse  structure  (e.g.  one  verse  each),  but  not  always;  for  example,  in  
number   10,   the   verses   and   the   turns   do   not   match   at   all.   There   are   also   question–
answer  structures  that  resemble  the  type-­‐1  epigrams,  for  example  number  5,  which  
has  two  adjacency  pairs.  All  the  variants  of  type-­‐1  pairs  occur  in  type  2,  and  either  
one   adjacency   pair   type   is   repeated   several   times   or   different   combinations   of   the  
pair  structures  occur  within  one  epigram.  

  The  core  element  of  these  epigrams  is  a  question–answer  pair,  even  more  so  
than   in   type   1.   Also,   wish   pairs   at   the   end   of   the   epigram   are   common.   Some  
greeting   pairs   and   other   statement–response   pairs   also   occur.   In   addition   to   these  

                                                                                                                         
392
 The  same  of  course  applies  to  t1,  but  the  phenomenon  is  perhaps  even  more  prominent  in  t2.  

  157  
pairs,   there   are   extra   turns   either   at   the   beginning,   end   or   in   the   middle   of   the  
epigram  in  11  type-­‐2  epigrams.  The  most  common  of  these  options  is  the  end  of  the  
epigram.393  The   speaker   of   the   extra   turn   at   the   beginning   of   the   epigram   is   not  
always   easy   to   identify,   but   on   the   basis   of   examples   that   I   have   discussed,   I   suggest  
that  the  speaker  in  such  cases  is  the  monument.  As  for  the  extra  turn  at  the  end  of  
the  epigram,  it  is  the  passerby  voice  that  often  either  comments  on  the  deceased’s  
destiny  or  wishes  him/her  well.  

Primarily   in   the   question   turns,   many   structures   and   features   are   familiar  
from   the   type-­‐1   epigrams,   such   as   addresses,   especially   at   the   beginning   of   the  
epigram   (first   turn   or   first   pair),   and   imperatives,   likewise   at   the   beginning.  
Interrogative-­‐only   questions   also   occur,   as   one   might   expect.   In   the   epigrams   with  
several   pairs,   there   may   be   several   kinds   of   question   structures   in   one   epigram.  
Particles   are   widely   used,   but   only   a   certain   set   of   particles   is   repeated.   The   most  
frequent   particles   are   δέ,   καί   and   ἀλλά,   while   γάρ   and   γε   also   occur.   These   particles  
have  certain  functions  that  recur  in  the  epigrams.  They  can,  for  example,  denote  the  
change   of   an   adjancy   pair,   as   δέ   in   particular   introduces   a   new   question   turn.     καί  
functions   on   a   sentence   level,   linking   parts   together,   but   it   can   also   link   the  
reply/response  turn  to  the  opening  turn,  especially  in  the  case  of  the  wish  pair  at  the  
end   (or   a   greeting   pair),   while   ἀλλά   marks   the   shift   from   one   kind   of   pair   (Q   –   A  
pairs)  to  another  pair  (e.g.  a  wish  pair).  Thus,  the  particle  also  make  it  easier  for  the  
recipient   to   follow   the   infomation   about   the   deceased   /   the   person   honoured   in   the  
monument.  

The  fact  that  most  type-­‐2  epigrams  date  to  between  the  1st  and  3rd  century  
CE  means  that  the  elegiac  distich  had  become  well  established  as  the  metre  of  the  
epigram.   In   type   2,   there   is   very   little   variation   of   this.   We   have   only   one   iambic   and  
a   few   epigrams   with   irregular   variation   of   hexameter   and   pentameter,   or   with  
hexameter  only.394  All  of  these  dactylic  variations  come  from  Asia  Minor  or  Egypt.  

                                                                                                                         
393
 Six  cases;  see  Section  4.2.2  and  table  6  in  this  Section.  
394
 Iambic:  no.  7,  hexameter  with  one  pentameter  verse  (v.  3)  no.11,  hexameter:  nos.  5  and  16  +  SGO  
4,  21/24/02,  not  separately  discussed  in  this  chapter.    

  158  
 Like  in  type  1,  most  of  the  type-­‐2  epigrams  are  either  passerby–monument  or  
passerby–deceased   epigrams.   The   latter   is   more   common:   53%   of   the   type-­‐2  
epigrams   are   passerby–deceased   epigrams   and   40%   are   passerby–monument  
epigrams.395  

Table  6:  Type-­‐2  epigrams  in  verse  inscriptions  according  to  their  variants:  
 X  –  Y  n   IG  II/III2  8918  =  GVI  1847     no.  4  
GVI  1848    
GVI  1858  =  AG  7.163   no.  19  
SGO  1,  03/06/06  =  GVI  1859     no.  10  
IG  XII  5,  307  =  GVI  1860  =  GG  428  =  SEG  45,  2251   no.  8  
Marek  1993,  no.  38  =  SGO  2,  10/03/04  =  GVI  1863   no.  11  
IG  II/III2  10073  =  GVI  1864  1863    =  SEG  48,  906   no.  1  (2;  16)  
IG  X  2,  1,  464  =  GVI  1865  =  SEG  52,  620   (ch.  2;  17)  
IG  XIV  1883  =  GVI  1866  =  GG  430   no.  7  
SGO  3,  16/55/03  =  GVI  1870  =  GG  431   no.  2  
IG  XII  5,  310  =  GVI  1871  =  GG  432  =  SEG  30,  1063  =  SEG  58,   no.  12  
1885  =  SEG  59,  1971  &  2079    
Sardis  7,  1,  111  =  GVI  1881  =  SGO  1,  04/02/11  =  SEG  49,   no.  13  (2;  13)  
1678;  SEG  50,  1762;  SEG  58,  1981;  SEG  59,  1945      
ICr  IV  372f.,  372  Abb.  =  GVI  1882  =  SEG  3,  781   (ch.  2;  14)  
IG  X,  2,  1,  148(B)  =  SEG  50,  1194  app.  cr.  =  SEG  52,  620   no.  6  
SGO  4,  17/06/05  =  SEG  29,  1442   (ch.  2;  18)  
SGO  4,  21/23/06  =  SEG  58,  1743  =  SEG  60,  1927(2)   no.  5  
SGO  4,  21/24/02  =  SEG  37,  1538  =  SEG  52,  1587  =  SEG  58,   (ch.  2;  9)  
1743    
SGO  2,  08/01/41396    
SGO  3,  16/08/01   no.  9  
IG  XII  4,  3,  2147  
1  +  X  –  Y  n   Bernand,  Inscr.  Métr.  68  =  GVI  1843  =  GG  427  =  SEG  8,  530     no.  14  (2;  10)  
GVI  1861  =  SEG  8,  482  =  GG  429   no.  15  
IMT  Olympene  2691  =  GVI  1862  =  SGO  2,  08/08/10  =  SEG  54,   no.  3  
1833  
X  –  Y  n  +  1   GVI  1842  =  GG  426,  cf.  SEG  8,  802  =  SEG  53,  2176   no.  16  
IG  XIV,  1603  =  GVI  1844        
GVI  1868    
IG  II/III2  10118  =  GVI  1872  =  SEG  52,  1991    
IG  IX  1,  878  =  SEG  51,  1009    
SGO  4,  21/09/01  =  SEG  49,  2069397    

                                                                                                                         
395
 Other  than  these,  there  is  one  REL  –  DEC  epigram  and  one  other  (NN  –  NN).  
396
 A  long  turn  of  DEC  (could  be  seen  as  a  monologue  part)  followed  by  REL  –  DEC  –  REL  turns.  
397
 If  read  as  Peters  (in  Peters  and  Thiersch  1905),  75.  This  text  is  different  from  most  of  the  
monumental  epigrams:  it  is  from  a  painted  tomb,  but  it  is  an  erotic  inscription;  the  speakers  are  a  
man  and  a  woman.  

  159  
1  +  X  –  Y  n   Bernand,  Inscr.  Métr.  49  =  GVI  1845  =  SEG  8,  371   no.  17  
GVI  1846  =  BÉ  1944,  199a   no.  18  
+  1  

 
 

  160  
5.  TYPE-­‐3  EPIGRAMS  

Type-­‐3   epigrams   comprise   a   small   but   heterogeneous   group   of   poems.   The  

development  towards  narrative  is  characteristic  of  type  3.  There  are  only  12  type-­‐3  
epigrams   in   verse   inscriptions, 398  but   they   are   more   common   in   non-­‐inscribed  
epigrams.   In   type-­‐3   epigrams,   the   adjacency   pair   is   not   as   central   as   in   type   1   and  
type  2.  However,  many  of  these  are  X  –  Y  variants,  for  example  epigrams  with  three  
speakers   (X   –   Y   –   Z)   or   X   –   Y   arrangements   with   two   speakers,   but   they   are   different  
from  the  types  (1  and  2)  discussed  in  the  previous  two  chapters.  The  earliest  of  these  
epigrams  dates  to  the  2nd/1st  century  BCE,  and  the  latest  to  ca  the  4th  century  CE.  

Five  type-­‐3  verse  inscriptions  contain  a  neutral  narrator  (N)  in  addition  to  two  
other   speakers   (X   –   Y   –   N).   In   two   of   the   verse   inscriptions  containing   a   narrator,   the  
dialogue  is  embedded  in  a  description  told  by  this  narrator.  The  paradigm  for  such  
an  epigram  is  N  –  X  –  N  –  Y,  although  the  turns  are  not  necessarily  in  this  order.  In  
such  epigrams,  the  narrator  is  an  outside  reporter  of  the  dialogue,  for  example  the  
narrator   voice   says   ‘to   this   he   replied’   (third   person),   and   the   turn   of   X   or   Y   then  
follows.  Another  option  is  that  the  narrator  both  narrates  (outside  the  dialogue)  and  
participates  in  the  dialogue:  N  –  X  –  N  –  N2,  where  N2  marks  the  communicative  turn  
of   the   narrator   in   the   dialogue   (‘and   I   said:   xxx…’)   (first   person),   but   the   turns   can  
also   occur   in   a   different   order   (N   –   N2   –   N   –   X,   and   so   on).   In   other   words,   the  
narrator  is  also  an  inner  actor  of  the  dialogue.  I  call  this  ‘embedded  dialogue’.  It  is  
more  common  in  the  non-­‐inscribed  epigrams  than  in  the  verse  inscriptions,  but  I  will  
discuss  both.  

If   we   take   the   strictest   definition   of   a   dialogue   epigram,   the   embedded  

dialogues   are   not   dialogue   epigrams   as   such,   as   the   communication   is   part   of   the  
narrative,   but,   in   some   cases,   the   communicative   sections   have   elements   that   are  
familiar   from   type   1   and   type   2.   All   in   all,   the   communication   in   these   epigrams  
makes   them   well   worth   discussing   under   the   (broad)   umbrella   of   ‘dialogue  
epigrams’.   To   use   Kroon’s   terminology,   these   epigrams   are   dialogical   monologal:  
they  are  phrased  by  a  central  reporter,  but  the  reporter  also  simulates  or  reports  a  

                                                                                                                         
398
 See  Table  8  in  Section  5.4.  

  161  
conversational   exchang.399  Most   of   the   type-­‐3   verse   inscriptions,   however,   are   not  
embedded   dialogues,   but   rather   other   X   –   Y   variations,   even   if   there   is   a   narrator  
voice  in  the  epigram.400    

In   many   cases   of   type-­‐3   epigrams,   one   or   more   turns   of   the   epigram   are  
several  verses  long.  Sometimes  whole  stanzas  form  turns.  Also,  one  turn  of  a  certain  
speaker  may  be  two  stanzas  long.  In  the  epigrams  in  which  stanzas  form  a  turn,  the  
speaker  obviously  changes  with  the  beginning  of  a  new  stanza,  or  one  speaker  has  
two  stanzas,  and  the  third  stanza  is  by  someone  else.  

In   some   epigrams,   as   the   examples   will   show,   the   narrative   part   is   clearly  
separate  from  the  communicative  part,  but  the  narrative  segment  is  still  an  integral  
part   of   the   epigram   unity.   The   other   two   turns   before/after   the   narrative   in   a   three-­‐
turn   epigram   can   then   form   a   structure   similar   to   an   adjacency   pair,   but   the   three  
turns  together  do  not  form  a  solid  three-­‐turn  unit.    

In  this  chapter,  I  will  discuss  the  type-­‐3  epigrams  on  the  basis  of  the  division  
presented   above:   first   the   X   –   Y   variants   in   Section   5.1,   and   then   the   embedded  
dialogues  in  Section  5.2.  I  will  provide  the  epigrams  and  discuss  both  the  structure  
and  the  language  of  these  epigrams.  In  these  sections,  I  will  also  discuss  some  type-­‐3  
parallels  in  non-­‐inscribed  epigrams.  In  Section  5.3,  I  give  some  examples  of  texts  that  
can   hardly   be   called   epigrams   anymore,   but   which   have   similar   elements   of  
communication  to  the  dialogue  epigrams,  especially  type-­‐3  ones.  

 
5.1  Type-­‐3  speakers  (X  –  Y  –  Z  and  others)  

In   type-­‐1   and   type-­‐2   epigrams,   the   basic   situation   is   that   the   direction   of   the   speech  
moves   from   speaker   a   to   speaker   b,   and   from   b   back   to   a   (i.e.   a   -­‐˃   b   -­‐˃   a).  
Occasionally,   there   is   some   variation,401  but   reciprocity   is   essential   for   these   two  
types.  In  type-­‐3  epigrams,  the  direction  of  the  speech  is  more  varied.  In  the  following  

                                                                                                                         
399
 Kroon  1995,  109–11  (introduced  in  Chapter  2).  
400
 cf.  Section  5.1.  
401
 e.g.  speaker  X  is  addressing  someone  outside  the  poem,  i.e.  someone  who  does  not  speak  in  the  
epigram,  or  the  speech  is  directed  to  a  wider  audience  and  not  a  specific  speaker  role.  These,  
however,  are  mostly  small  segments  of  the  epigram  in  question.    

  162  
table,   I   present   the   speakers   and   their   addressees   in   all   of   the   type-­‐3   verse  
inscriptions  of  this  chapter:  
 
Table   7:   Speakers   and   directions   of   speech   in   type-­‐3   verse   inscriptions   discussed   in  
Chapter  5  
Epigram   Verse   Speaker   Addressee   Date  
no.  1   1–10   monument   passerby   latter  half  of  
11–17   relative   deceased   2nd  CE  
19–26   deceased   relative  
no.  2   1–10   relative   deceased  +  daimon   2nd/1st  BCE  
11–14   deceased   relative  
15–20   relative?   deceased?  
no.  3   1–23   deceased   chthonic  gods   1st  BCE/1st  CE  
24–31   relative   deceased  
no.  4   1–6   narrator402                      —   ca  2nd  CE  
7   deceased   (passersby/?)  
8   passerby   deceased  
no.  5   1–6   relative   deceased   ca  300–350CE  
7–10   narrator                      —  
11–20   deceased   relative  
no.  6   1–6   narrator                      —   2nd/3rd  CE  
7–11   passerby   monument  
12–18   monument   passerby  
no.  7   1–8   narrator                      —   after  312  CE  
9   relative   deceased  
10   narrator                      —  
11–15   deceased   relative  
no.  8   1–6   narrator/MON                      —   3rd/4th  CE  
7  beginning   passerby   monument  
7  end   narrator/MON                      —  
8   passerby   monument  
9   narrator/MON                      —  
10   narrator/MON     passerby  
 
 

                                                                                                                         
402
 The  turns  of  the  narrator  are  not  specifically  directed,  i.e.  the  ‘addressee’  is  the  whole  audience.  
There  is  no  addressee  in  the  epigram  for  the  narrator  turns.  

  163  
As   we   can   see,   these   epigrams   contain   either   two   or   three   speakers,   and   in   five  
cases,   the   narrator   is   one   of   the   speakers.403  In   order   to   better   understand   all   of  
these,  I  will  now  discuss  each  epigram  in  more  detail.  
At  the  beginning  of  our  first  example,  the  deceased  is  described  in  the  third  
person:  404  

1.     ἀστὴν  Ναυκράτεως  Μενελάου  πατρός,  ὁδῖτα,  

      ξείνην  εὔξεινος  χθὼν  ἔχει  Ἡρακλέους,  
ὠμοτόκοις  ὠδῖσι  πανυστατίοιο  λοχείης  
      δμηθεῖσαν,  Μοιρέων  νήμασιν  οἰκτροτάτοις,  
                 5    εἴκοσι  καὶ  τρὶς  πέντ᾽  ἐτέων·∙  χείρεσσι  δ᾽  ὅμευνος  
      Ἀρμόδιος  κτερίσας  τῶιδ᾽  ἐπέκρυψε  τάφωι,  
Ἀρσινόην  Μάτρωνα,  Θεμιστὼ  τέκνα  λιποῦσαν,  
      οἷς  εἴη  λιπαροῦ  γήραος  ἄχρι  μολεῖν.  
ἀλλὰ  σὺ  ‘χρηστή,  χαῖρ᾽,  Ἀμμωνία’  ὡς  ἔθος,  εἰπὼν  
             10      σώιζου  τὸν  σαυτοῦ  πρὸς  δόμον  ἀβλαβέως.  
                                            ἄλλο  
—  πάτρης  καὶ  γονέων  σ᾽  οὑμὸς  πόθος  ἠλλοτρίωσεν.  
  σοῦ  δ᾽  ἐμὲ  τῆς  μελέης  ἐστέρεσεν  θάνατος,  
πένθος  ἐμοῖσι  δόμοις  καὶ  δάκρυα  λυγρὰ  λιπούσ<ης>  
           15     τέκνων  τ᾽  ὀρφανικῶν  νήπιον  ἡλικίην.  
λυπρὸν  ἀεὶ  βιοτᾶς,  Ἀμμωνία,  ἐστὶ  τὸ  λοιπὸν  
     Ἁρμοδίωι·∙  τὶ  δ᾽  ἐγὼ  σοῦ  δίχα  φῶς  ἔθ᾽  ὁρῶ;  
                                              ἄλλο  
—  λῆξον  στερνοτύποιο  γόου,  παῦσαί  με  δακρύων,  
           20     ὦ  πόσι·∙  μὴ  κωφῶι  τύμβῳ  ἐπιστενάχει.  
σῶν  ψαῦσαι  λεχέων  Ἀμμωνίαι  οὐκέτ᾽  ἐφικτόν,  
     Ἁρμόδιε·∙  στυγερὸς  γάρ  με  κέκευθ᾽  Ἀίδης·∙  

                                                                                                                         
403
 Or  in  four  cases  if  we  read  the  speaker  in  no.  8  as  monument  rather  than  narrator.  It  is  also  
possible    to  read  the  other  speaker  as  either  the  monument  or  the  narrator  in  the  case  of  SGO  2,  
08/01/51.  
404 nd
 Bernand,  Inscr.Métr.  33;  GVI  1873  =  GG  437,  latter  half  of  the  2  century  CE,  Heracleopolis,  Egypt.  
For  a  translation  in  French,  see  Schwartz  1950,  4–5.  

  164  
 οἰκία  μοι  νεκύων·∙  ἀνεπίστροφα  πρὸς  φάος  Ἠοῦς.  
      ταῦτα·∙  μάτην  λυπροῖς  πένθεσιν  ἐνδέδεσαι  
         25     στέργε  τὰ  μέχρι  τέλους  μοίρης  δόσιν  οὔτινι  φυκτόν  
     ἀνθρώπων·∙  πᾶσιν  δ᾽  ἥδ᾽  ὑπόκειται  ὁδός.  
                       Ἀμμωνία  χρηστή,  χαῖρε.  
                        (ἔτους)  γʹ′,  Ἐπεὶφ  ιαʹ′.  
 

A  citizen  of  Naucratis,  daughter  of  Menelaos,  o  wanderer,  a  stranger,  lies  under  the  
hospitable  ground  of  Heracles.  She  was  forced  to  untimely  labours  for  the  very  last  
time  due  to  the  most  pitiable  spun  of  the  Moiras,  at  the  age  of  35  years.  The  husband  
Harmodios  buried  her  with  his  (own)  hands  and  covered  in  this  grave;  she  left  behind  
(children)   Arsinoe,   Matron   and   Themisto,   may   they   live   until   the   old   age   utterly  
comes.   But   you,   say   as   the   habit   is,   ‘be   greeted,   goodly   Ammonia’,   and   (may   you)  
without  harm  be  saved  to  your  own  house.  

 
—  My  love  estranged  you  from  your  fatherland  and  the  house  of  your  parents,  and  
death  has  bereaved  me  of  you,  poor  thing:  you  left  my  house  in  grief  and  mournful  
tears,  and  the  orphaned  children,  in  the  age  of  not  yet  speaking.  The  rest  of  the  life  
will  always  be  wretched  to  Harmodios,  Ammonia;  why  should  I  still  see  light,  without  
you?  

 
—   Stop   the   beating   of   your   breast,   and   the   lament,   cease   from   shedding   tears   for  
me,   oh   husband,   do   not   groan   by   the   dumb   grave.   Ammonia   can   no   longer   touch  
your   bed,   Harmodios,   for   the   hateful   Hades   hides   me;   I   have   my   home   among   the  
dead;  one  cannot  turn  towards  the  morning  light  (from  here).  This  is  it  all.  In  vain  you  
have  been  bound  in  poor  pains;  be  content  with  what  will  there  be  (for  you),  until  the  
end;  what  destiny  gives,  no  man  can  avoid:  this  road  awaits  everyone.  

There   are   three   speakers   in   this   epigram.   In   the   first   stanza,   the   speaker   is   the  
monument.405  It   describes   both   the   deceased   and   her   husband   Harmodios   in   the  
third   person.   The   fact   that   there   is   an   address   (ὁδῖτα;   l.   1)   and   an   exhortation   to  
participate  in  the  rites  at  the  end  of  the  stanza  (ll.  9–10)  makes  it  clear  that  this  is  the  
voice  of  the  monument  and  not  of  a  narrator.  The  narrator  voice  is  descriptive  and  

                                                                                                                         
405
 Metre,  as  it  is  easy  to  detect,  is  dactylic.  For  a  more  detailed  analysis,  see  Zucker  1954,  121.  

  165  
neutral   and   does   not   usually   address   any   other   speakers   in   the   epigram.   Also,   the  
facts   told   in   this   turn   are   details   which   the   monument   traditionally   tells   about   the  
deceased:   here,   her   name,   her   fatherland,   the   name   of   her   husband,   the   fact   that  
they  had  children  and  the  cause  of  her  death.  This  first  stanza  is  clearly  directed  to  
the   passerby   and   not   to   any   of   the   inner   actors   of   this   poem.   The   passerby   is   the   σύ  
of  l.  9  (ἀλλὰ  σὺ  χρηστή  χαῖρ᾽-­‐-­‐-­‐),  but  s/he  is  only  an  addressee  in  this  epigram  and  
does  not  have  a  voice  of  his/her  own.  

Thus,   the   passerby   is   told   to   recite   greetings,   as   is   the   habit:   ἀλλὰ   σὺ   χρηστή  
χαῖρ᾽,   Ἀμμωνία,   ὡς   ἔθος,   εἰπών   σώιζου   τὸν   σαυτοῦ   πρὸς   δόμον   ἀβλαβέως.   This  
section  (the  exhortation),  as  in  previous  examples,  begins  with  ἀλλά;  after  a  cluster  
of  information,  the  focus  shifts  to  the  idea  of  rites,  thus  ἀλλά  again  shifts  the  focus  
from   one   thing   to   another.   In   type-­‐1   and   type-­‐2   epigrams,   such   exhortations  
normally  appear  at  the  end  of  the  epigram,  but  in  this  case,  it  appears  at  the  end  of  
the   first   stanza.   However,   in   this   instance   the   exhortation   brings   the   turn   of   this  
voice  to  an  end.  

In  the  second  stanza,  the  speaker  is  a  relative  who  addresses  the  deceased.  In  
this  case,  the  relative  is  the  husband  mourning  his  late  wife.  He  repeats  the  fact,  told  
in  the  first  stanza,  that  his  wife  left  her  fatherland  and  parents  (in  order  to  live  with  
him).  In  his  lament,  he  says  that  the  house  is  now  sorrowful,  and  that  their  infants  
are   left   orphans.   His   grief   culminates   in   his   declaration   that   the   rest   of   his   life   is  
ruined  (λυπρὸν  ἀεὶ  βιοτᾶς,  Ἀμμωνία,  ἐστὶ  τὸ  λοιπόν  Ἁρμοδίωι,  l.  16)  because  there  
is  no  light  for  him  without  her:  τὶ  δ᾽  ἐγὼ  σοῦ  δίχα  φῶς  ἔθ᾽  ὁρῶ  (l.  17).  In  this  turn,  
the  husband  speaks  about  himself  both  in  the  first  person  (most  of  the  time)  and  in  
the  third  person,  for  example  in  line  16.  Nevertheless,  the  speaker  role  is  clear,  and  
so  is  the  addressee:  he  addresses  his  wife  and  talks  about  his  own  loss  (REL  –  >  DEC).  

In  the  third  stanza,  the  late  wife  consoles  her  husband  (DEC  –  >  REL).  At  the  
beginning   of   the   turn,   she   addresses   him   and   tells   him   not   to   mourn   (addresses   +  
imperative):   λῆξον   στερνοτύποιο   γόου,   παῦσαί   με   δακρύων,   /   ὦ   πόσι.   μὴ   κωφῶι  
τύμβῳ   ἐπιστενάχει.   Her   grave   is   dumb,   and   she   now   lives   in   Hades.   She   then  
explains  that  she  has  accepted  her  death  and  her  new  home  among  the  dead.  She  

  166  
also   expresses   the   sentiment   that   it   is   useless   for   the   husband   to   grieve   endlessly,  
and  closes  both  the  turn  and  the  entire  poem  with  a  reminder  of  universal  mortality:  
-­‐-­‐-­‐μοίρης   δόσιν   οὔτινι   φυκτόν   ἀνθρώπον·∙   πᾶσιν   δ᾽   ἥδ᾽   ὑπόκειται   ὁδος.   This  
inevitability   of   death   is   a   theme   that   occurs   in   turns   of   the   deceased,   especially   in  
the  dialogues  with  the  relative.    
The   first   stanza   of   this   epigram   is   like   any   other   grave   monument   in   which  
the   voice   of   the   monument   addresses   the   passerby   and   gives   information   about   the  
deceased.   It   is   the   second   and   third   stanzas   that   form   the   dialogue   between   the  
relative   (widower)   and   the   deceased.   In   the   turn   of   the   husband,   some   of   the  
previous  information  is  repeated,  but  the  conversation  between  the  married  couple  
mostly  concentrates  on  the  sorrow  of  the  one  left  behind  and  the  consolation  and  
acceptance   of   death   expressed   by   the   deceased,   which   ends   in   a   reminder   of  
mortality.  All  of  these  elements  are  typical  of  relative–deceased  epigrams.    

  There   is   a   short   greeting   below   the   epigram:   Ἀμμωνία   χρηστή,   χαῖρε.   By  

reading  this  (aloud),  the  reader  of  the  epigram  did  what  s/he  was  told  to  do  at  the  
end  of  the  first  stanza,  namely  to  utter  the  greeting,  as  is  the  habit  (cf.  ll.  9–10,  i.e.  
the  end  of  the  first  stanza).  

There   are   three   stanzas   but   only   two   speakers   in   the   following   X   –   Y  
variant:406  

2.     λάϊνά  σοι  τύμβων  δωμήματα  Θεῖος  ἔτευξα,

  Ἀτθίς,  ὁ  δίς  τῆς  σῆς  ἡλικίης  προγέρων,  

  εὐξάμενος  χειρῶν  ἀπὸ  σῶν  κόνιν·∙  ἄκριτε  δαῖμον,  
  ἀμφοτέροις  ἡμῖν  ἔσβεσας  ἠέλιον.    
 
               5   Ἀτθίς,  ἐμοὶ  ζήσασα  καὶ  εἰς  ἐμὲ  πνεῦμα  λιποῦσα,  
  ὡς  πάρος  εὐφροσύνης,  νῦν  δακρύων  πρόφασι,  
  ἁγνά,  πουλυγόητε,  τί  πένθιμον  ὕπνον  ἰαύεις,  
                                                                                                                         
406 nd st nd
 GVI  1874  =  GG  438  =  SGO  1,  01/01/07,  2 /1  century  BCE,  Cnidus.  Hanink  2010,  20  gives  2  BCE–
st
1  AD.  See  also  SGO  4,  17/06/02,  which  is  mostly  in  the  voice  of  the  deceased  but  the  relative  
addresses  the  deceased  in  the  middle  of  the  epigram.    

  167  
   ἀνδρὸς  ἀπὸ  στέρνων  οὔποτε  θεῖσα  κάρα,  
  Θεῖον  ἐρημώσασα  τὸν  οὐκέτι;  σοὶ  γὰρ  ἐς    Ἅδαν  
         10   ἦλθον  ὁμοῦ  ζωᾶς  ἐλπίδες  ἁμετέρας.    
   
  —  οὐκ  ἔπιον  Λήθης  Ἀιδωνίδος  ἔσχατον  ὕδωρ,  
  ὥς  σε  παρηγορίην  κἀν  φθιμένοισιν  ἔχω,  
  Θεῖε  πλέον  δύστηνε,  γάμων  ὅτι  τῶν  ἀμιάντων  
  νοσφισθεὶς  κλαίεις  χηροσύνην  θαλάμων.    
 
           15   —  τοῦτο  σαοφροσύνας  γέρας  Ἀτθίδι  τᾶι  πολυκλαύτωι  
  οὐκ  ἴσον  οὐδὲ  ἀρετᾶς  ἄξιον,  ἀλλ᾽  ἐθέμαν  
  μνάμαν  εἰς  αἰῶνα  φερώνυμον  αὐτὸς  ἀνάγκαι  
  Θεῖος  νηπιάχωι  πνεῦμα  χαριζόμενος.  
  οἴσω  γὰρ  καὶ  τοῦτο  χάριν  σέο  καὶ  τὸν  ἀπηνῆ  
           20   ὄμμασι  τοῖς  στυγνοῖς  ὄψομαι  ἠέλιον.  
 

Atthis;   I,   Theios,   built   you   a   tomb   building,   having   prayed   that   your   hands   would  
have  put  dust  on  me  who  am  twice  your  age;  daimon  of  no-­‐good  judgement,  you  put  
out  the  sun  for  both  of  us.  

Atthis,  you  who  lived  for  me  and  left  your  soul  to  me;  as  you  earlier  were  the  cause  of  
my  merriment,  you  now  are  the  cause  of  my  tears,  (you)  chaste,  much  lamented,  why  
are  you  sleeping  a  sorrowful  sleep,  you  who  never  placed  your  head  away  from  (your)  
husband’s   chest,   now   leaving   Theios   alone,   who   is   no   more   (himself).   With   you,   all  
hopes  for  my  life  are  gone  to  Hades.  

—   I   did   not   drink   the   last   water   of   the   Lethe   of   Hades,   because   even   among   the  
deceased   I   have   you   as   my   consolation,   Theios,   you   more   unfortunate   (than   I).   For  
deprived  of  an  undefiled  marriage,  you  are  now  crying  for  the  widowed  (bed)room.  

—  This  is  for  much-­‐lamented  Atthis  not  a  gift  equal  to  her  chastity  and  not  worthy  of  
her   virtue,   but   I   set   up   (the   monument)   to   bear   her   name   for   ever,   I,   Theios,   myself.   I  
had   to   save   (my)   life,   obliging   (our)   child.   I   bring   also   this   to   you   and   with   gloomy  
eyes  I  look  at  the  sun.  

  168  
The   speakers   are   the   relative   and   the   deceased.   In   the   first   two   stanzas,   the   speaker  
is  the  relative  (ll.  1–4  and  5–10).  In  the  third  stanza,  the  speaker  is  the  deceased  (ll.  
11–14),   and   at   the   end   of   the   epigram   (ll.   15–20),   the   relative   again.   The   speakers  
are  easy  to  detect:  in  the  first  stanza,  the  relative,  Theios,  addresses  his  wife  (in  bold)  
and   gives   his   own   name   (underlined)   in   the   same   sentence:   λάινά   σοι   τύμβων  
δωμήματα   Θεῖος   ἔτευξα,   /   Ἀτθίς-­‐-­‐-­‐.   In   this   first   verse,   the   relative   (Theios)   speaks  
about  himself  in  the  third  person,  but  at  the  end  of  the  epigram,  when  addressing  
the   daimon,   he   uses   the   first   person   plural:   ἄκριτε   δαῖμον,   /   ἀμφοτέροις   ἡμῖν  
ἔσβεσας   ἠέλιον.   By   using   ἡμίν   he   indicates   that   both   he   and   Atthis   as   affected   by  
Atthis’  death.  The  direction  of  speech  is  first  Theios  -­‐>  deceased,  and  then  Theios  -­‐>  
daimon.    

In  the  next  stanza,  the  relative  uses  the  first  person  for  himself  and  continues  
to   address   the   deceased   in   the   second   person:   Ἀτθίς,   ἐμοὶ   ζήσασα   καὶ   εἰς   ἐμὲ  
πνεῦμα  λιποῦσα-­‐-­‐-­‐ἰαύεις-­‐-­‐-­‐.  The  speakers  are  easy  to  detect,  and  the  same  goes  for  
the   third   stanza   in   which   the   deceased   addresses   her   husband,   Θεῖε   (l.   13).   In   the  
last   stanza,   Ἀτθίδι   (l.   15),   Θεῖος   (l.   8)   and   χάριν   σέο   (l.   19)   reveal   the   direction   of   the  
speech   (REL   –   DEC).   The   speaker   pair   is   familiar   from   types   1   and   2,   as   are   the  
themes  of  the  epigram,  but  the  arrangement  differs.  The  turns  form  whole  stanzas,  
and   this   rather   long   poem   is   also   more   descriptive   (inwording   and   style)   than   its  
counterparts  in  the  other  types.    

In  her  own  turn  (ll.  11-­‐14),  Atthis  strengthens  the  bond  between  the  couple  
by   telling   that   she   did   not   drink   from   the   fountain   of   Lethe   (Oblivion)   as   she   wanted  
to   have   the   memory   of   her   husband   as   her   consolation   –   a   thought   that   is   consoling  
for  the  husband  as  well  (ll.  11-­‐13):  οὐκ  ἔπιον  Λήθης  Ἀιδωνίδος  ἔσχατον  ὕδωρ,  /ὥς  
σε   παρηγορίην   κἀν   φθιμένοισιν   ἔχω,   /Θεῖε   πλέον   δύστηνε-­‐-­‐-­‐.   She   also   grieves   for  
Theios   who   is   now   left   alone   to   mourn   (ll.   13-­‐14):   γάμων   ὅτι   τῶν   ἀμιάντων   /  
νοσφισθεὶς  κλαίεις  χηροσύνην  θαλάμων.  
Hanink  compares  this  and  Ammonia  epigram  (my  no.  1  in  this  Chapter)  and  
points  out  that  on  the  basis  of  the  similarities  of  both  form  and  content  of  these  two  
epigrams,  as  well  as  the  separation  of  the  stanzas,  -­‐-­‐-­‐it  is  tempting  to  think  that  the  
developed   dialogue   form   of   the   epitaphs   represents   a   certain   evolution   of  

  169  
Konkurrenzgedichte   into   longer   single   poems   consisting   of   multiple   stanzas.407  It   is  
also  worth  pointing  out  that  in  the  epigrams  that  have  this  speaker  pair  (REL  –  DEC,  
as   in   this   and   in   the   previous   example),   afterlife   is   referred   to   more   often   and   in  
more  detail  than  in  PB  –  MON/DEC  epigrams.  Such  references  are  perhaps  easier  to  
include  in  epigrams  between  the  family  members:  emotions  are  expressed,  and  the  
references   to   Hades   and   life   in   there   have   also   consoling   aspects.   In   these  
expressions   of   afterlife,   there   is   probably   thematic   influence   of   non-­‐inscribed  
epigrams  as  well.  

In  the  following  epigram,  the  text  units  are  also  lengthy:408  

 

3.     Θέρμιν  χρηστὴ,  χαῖρε.  

χθονίων  ἔνερθε  δαιμόνων  ἀνάκτορες  
                      σεμνή  τε  Φερσέ̣φασσα,  Δήμητρος  κόρη,  
δέχεσθε  τὴν  ναυαγὸν  ἀθλίαν  ξένην,  
                 5    πατρὸς  γεγῶσαν  Λυσανίου,  Θέρμιν  ἐμέ,  
ἐσθλὴν  δ᾽  ἄκοιτιν  Σιμάλου  ξυνάορον.  
εἴ  τις  δ᾽  ἐμοῖς  σπλανχνοῖσιν  ἢ  βίῳ  ποτὲ  
οἰκτρὰς  Ἐρινῦς  φαρμάκων  ἐπήγαγεν,  
μὴ  πώποτ᾽  ἄλλην  μοῖραν,  ἄφθιτοι  θεοί,  
             10    πέμψηθ᾽,  ὁμοίαν  θ᾽  ἣν  ἐγὼ  κεκτημένη.  
ἔνερθε  ναίω,  τριπτύχους  μῆνας  φθίσι  
βιότου  λιποῦσα  καρπόν,  ὃν  γῆ  πανκράτωρ  
βροτοῖς  δίδωσι,  τοῦδ᾽  ἀπεστερημέ[ν]η  
τέκνων  τε,  ἄνακτες,  κἀνδρός·∙  οὐ  ψυχὴ  [μ]ία  
           15     ὑπῆρχέ  μοι  σὺν  ἀνδρὶ  καὶ  βίος  γλυκύς;  
τούτων  ἁπάντων  ἀθλία  λελησμένη  
ἀρὰς  τίθημι,  τοῖα  ἔχουσα  πήματα,    
αὐτοῖσι  καὶ  τέκεσ<σ>ι  παρρίζους  μολῖν  
Ἅδου  μέγαν  κευ[θ]μῶνα  καὶ  σκότου  πύλας,  
                                                                                                                         
407
 Hanink  2010,  20–22.  
408 st st
 GVI  1875  =  GG  439,  1  century  BCE/  1  century  CE,  Alexandria,  Egypt.  See  also  Bernand,  Insc.  Métr.  
46  and  Robert  1936,  120–3.  

  170  
              20    τέκνων  δ’  ἐμῶν  ἄθραυστον  ὄλβιον  βίον  
πάντων  ἱκέσθαι  κἀνδρὸς  ἰς  γήρως  χρόνον,  
εἴ  γ᾽  ἐστ᾽  ἐν    Ἅδου  βαιὸς  εὐχωλῆς  λόγος,  
ἀρὰς  τελήας  οἷς  ἐπεύχομαι  τελῖν.    
—  Μουσῶν  ἀοιδήν  συνβιώσεως  σέθεν  
             25    τερπνήν  τε  καὶ  λυπηρὸν  ἔνπαλιν  διδούς,  
Θέρμιν,  ἐμὴ  ξύνευνε,  τοῖαδ᾽  ἐννέπω·∙  
θρέψω  <θ᾽>  ὅσους  ἔφυσας  ἐξ  ἐμοῦ  γόνους  
τῆς  πρός  σε  φιλίας  ἀξίως,  ξυνάορε,  
Λυσᾶν  τε  τὸν  πρὶν  τοῖς  ἐμοῖς  ὁμόρροπον    
           30     παισὶν  συνέξω,  σὴν  χάριν  ταύτην  τιθίς,  
ἄμενπτον  ἐν  βίῳ  γὰρ  ἔσχηκας  τρόπον.  
(ἔτους)  ζʹ′,  Παϋνὶ  κϛʹ′  
 

Rulers   of   the   underground   spirits   beneath,   and   you,   holy   Persephone,   maiden   of  
Demeter,  accept  me,  Thermion,  a  stranded  miserable  stranger,  daughter  of  Lysanias,  
good  wedded  wife  of  Simalos.  And  if  someone  has  ever  brought  miserable  furies  of  
poisons  to  my  heart  or  life,  do  not  ever  send  him  any  other  lot,  you  immortal  gods,  
than  similar  to  the  one  I  have  now.  

I  live  underground,  three  full  months  I  have  decayed  after  having  left  the  fruit  of  life  
which  all-­‐powerful  earth  gives  to  the  mortals;  I  am  robbed  of  this,  of  my  children,  you  
masters,  and  of  my  husband.  Was  I  not  one  soul  with  my  husband,  (did  I  not  enjoy)  
sweet   life   with   him?   Now,   I,   miserable   have   to   forget   all   that;   I   curse   having   such  
suffering;  they  (the  murderers)  must  leave  their  children  and  all  and  go  to  the  great  
abyss  of  Hades,  to  the  gates  of  darkness,  but  may  all  my  children  and  my  husband  
live  a  happy  life,  unhurt,  and  reach  old  age.  And  if  there  is  any  account  of  praying  in  
Hades,  the  prayers  I  have  prayed  should  come  true.  

—   In   return   for   your   poetic   song   of   our   life   together,   delightful   and   sorrowful,  
Thermion,   my   wife,   I   say   this:   my   dear   wife,   I   will   bring   up   the   children   we   had  
together  in  such  a  way  that  is  worthy  of  my  love  for  you,  and  embrace  also  Lysas,  the  
child  you  had  had  before,  and  treat  him  like  our  own  children,  doing  a  favour  for  you,  
for  you  lived  your  life  in  blameless  manner.    

  171  
There  are  two  speakers  in  this  epigram  and  technically  only  two  turns  (ll.  1–23  and  
24–32).  However,  the  ‘turns’  do  not  form  an  adjacency  pair  as  such,  so  I  do  not  count  
this  as  a  type-­‐1  epigram,  although  some  elements  are  similar  to  type  1  or  type  2.    
The   speakers   are   the   deceased   and   the   relative,   a   wife   and   her   husband.  
Even  though  the  deceased  begins  the  epigram,  she  does  not  direct  her  speech  to  her  
husband,   but   instead   to   the   chthonic   gods;   lines   2–10   form   this   passage:   χθονίων  
ἔνερθε   δαιμόνων   ἀνάκτορες   /   σεμνή   τε   Φερσέ̣φασσα,   Δήμητρος   κόρη-­‐-­‐-­‐.409  In   this  
section,   the   deceased   reveals   her   marital   status   and   family   situation   (ll.   2–6),   and  
then   curses   anyone   who   may   have   hurt   her   (ll.   7–10).   After   that,   she   laments   her  
fate  (ll.  11–21),  and  at  the  end  of  the  lament  (ll.  20–21),  she  wishes  her  family  well:  
τέκνων  δ᾽  ἐμῶν  ἄθραυστον  ὄλβιον  βίον  /  πάωτων  ἱκέσθαι  κἀνδρὸς  ἰς  γήρως  χρόνον.  
Here   the   deceased   does   not   approach   her   death   and   her   life   in   Hades   in   such  
accepting   way   than   the   deceased   in   the   previous   two   examples:   Thermion   even  
curses   her   fate   and   expresses   a   wish   for   revenge.   Interestingly   this   comes   out   in   her  
own  turn,  whereas  in  the  husband’s  turn  there  is  no  reference  to  her  wretched  fate  
but  only  consoling  elements  in  turn.    
 At  the  end  of  her  turn,  she  refers  to  the  prayers  mentioned  at  the  end  of  the  
first   section   (ll.   7–10):   εἴ   γ᾽   ἐστ᾽   ἐν   Ἅδου   βαιὸς   εὐχωλῆς   λόγος,   /   ἀρὰς   τελήας   οἷς  
ἐπεύχομαι  τελῖν  (ll.  22–23).  Her  reserved  attitude  towards  Hades  also  shows  in  εἴ  γ᾽  
ἐστ᾽  ἐν  Ἅδου  βαιὸς  εὐχωλῆς  λόγος-­‐-­‐-­‐.  
 Overall,   this   turn   of   the   deceased   consists   of   two   segments:   verses   2–10  
form   a   petition   to   the   gods,   and   verses   11–23   are   a   lament.   Often   the   lament   is  
expressed  by  a  relative,  but  here  it  is  by  the  deceased  herself.  
The  rest  of  the  epigram  is  the  voice  of  the  relative,  this  time  the  husband.  We  
know   this   because   he   addresses   his   wife:   Θέρμιν,   ἐμὴ   ξύνευνε   (l.   26).   The   address   is  
part   of   a   sentence   in   which   the   relative   refers   to   the   previous   verses   of   the  
deceased:   Μουσῶν   ἀοιδήν   συνβιώσεως   σέθεν   /   τερπνήν   τε   καὶ   λυπηρὸν   ἔνπαλιν  
διδούς,   /Θέρμιν,   ἐμὴ   ξύνευνε,   τοῖαδ᾽   ἐννέπω,  In   return   for   your   poetic   song   of   our  
life   together,   delightful   and   sorrowful,   Thermion,   my   wife,   I   say   this-­‐-­‐-­‐.   In   the  

                                                                                                                         
409
 In  my  analysis,  I  will  concentrate  mainly  on  the  turns,  the  speakers  and  some  features  of  language.  
Concerning  the  content  and  the  persons  mentioned  in  these  verses,  see  Robert  1936,  no.  77  (120–3)  
and  Wilhelm  1949,  38.  

  172  
previous  turn,  the  deceased  did  not  direct  her  speech  to  her  husband,  but  this  turn  
of   the   husband   is   clearly   connected   with   her   dirge.   Despite   the   descriptive   nature   of  
the   epigram,   the   communicative   elements   between   the   speakers   (e.g.   the  
addresses)  are  familiar  from  other  types  of  dialogue  epigrams.  
In   the   following   example,   there   are   three   speakers   again,   but   the   dialogue  
section  is  only  two  verses  long.410      
   

4.   Μοῖρα  πικρή,  Λήθης  Ἀχερουσίδος  ἔντ|ροφε,  λυγρὸν      

θρῆνον  ἐναψαμένη  |  Μάγνον  ἄγ᾽  εἰς  Ἀΐδεω·∙  
  παῖδα  δυωδε|χέτη  πατρὶ  μὲν  γόον  ·∙  ἄλγεα  μητρὶ|  
  ἠδὲ  κασιγνήτῳ  πένθεα  λυγρότατα·∙|  
               5      ἄρτι  γὰρ  ἦν  γονέεσσι  μέριμνα  μέν,  |  αὐτὰρ  ἀδελφῷ  
  κόσμος·∙  χ᾽  ἡ  πικρὴ  |  Μοῖρ᾽  ἀπενοσφίσατο·∙    
—  ἄλλω<ς>  τὸν  πάν|τεσσι  βροτοῖς  μόνον  οἶκον  ἐσοιχνῶ·∙|  
  —  Μάγν’  ἐπὶ  τυμβιδίοις  χαῖρε  καὶ  εἰνὶ  τάφοις.    
 

Bitter  Moira,  living  in  the  oblivion  of  Acheron,  led  Magnos  to  Hades,  hence  kindling  a  
baneful   lament.   The   child   (was)   12   years   old,   (his   death   brought)   wailing   to   his  
father,   pains   to   his   mother,   and   most   mournful   sorrow   to   his   brother.   Just   a   while  
ago  he  was  an  object  of  care  for  his  parents,  decoration  for  his  brother,  and  the  bitter  
Moira  robbed  him  (from  them).  

—  For  nothing  I  go  to  the  only  house  that  is  common  to  all  the  mortals.  

—  Magnus,  be  greeted  also  among  tombs  and  graves.  

There   are   three   speakers   in   this   epigram.   The   first   speaker   reports   about   the  
deceased  (ll.  7–8),  then  the  deceased  speaks,  and  finally,  the  passerby.  It  is  not  easy  
to   tell   whether   the   first   speaker   is   the   monument   or   the   narrator.   The   monument  
can  of  course  give  information  about  the  deceased  in  the  third  person,  but  nothing  
in  this  section  refers  to  the  monument  or  the  location.  The  description  is  given  in  a  
neutral  voice,  and  the  monument  is  not  addressed  later  in  the  epigram;  thus,  I  am  

                                                                                                                         
410 nd
 IG  X  2,  1,  368,  from  ca  2  century  CE,  Thessalonica.  

  173  
inclined   to   interpret   the   speaker   as   the   narrator   instead   of   the   monument,   even  
though   the   identification   is,   admittedly,   difficult   to   make:   the   monument/narrator  
division   is   somewhat   ambiguous.   This   description   segment   is   more   narrative   than  
communicative   in   nature   –   in   type-­‐1   or   type-­‐2   dialogue   epigrams,   the   information  
that   is   given   in   this   section   (ll.   1–6)   would   be   given   via   a   communicative   structure.  
The  dialogue  section  (ll.  7–8)  is  not  directly  linked  to  the  previous  verses.  

The   communicative   section   of   the   epigram   consists   of   only   two   verses:   the  
last  two  verses  of  the  final  elegiac  couplet  of  the  epigram.  In  line  7,  the  speaker  is  
the   deceased,   Magnus,   and   in   the   last   verse,   the   passerby.   The   turn   of   the   deceased  
(ἄλλω<ς>   τὸν   πάντεσσι   βροτοῖς   μόνον   οἴκον   ἐσοιχνῶ)   is   not   directed   to   anyone  
specifically,   i.e.   the   direction   of   the   speech   is   not   marked;   it   is   a   remark   to   the  
audience   in   general:   For   nothing   I   go   to   the   one   house   that   is   common   to   all   the  
mortals.   We   know   that   the   speaker   here   is   Magnus   because   the   facts   about   him  
have   been   reported   already,   and   the   first   person   singular   is   used   in   this   verse:   -­‐-­‐-­‐
ἐσοιχνῶ.  No  one  but  the  deceased  could  use  the  first  person  singular  in  this  context.  
The   frustration   of   his   untimely   death   expressed   here   naturally   reflects   the  
frustration  and  loss  that  the  parents  feel,  but  the  writer  has  put  it  in  the  mouth  of  
the  deceased,  just  as  in  the  previous  example.  

In  the  last  verse,  the  passerby  addresses  the  deceased.  As  we  saw  in  Chapters  
3   and   4,   the   passerby   could   know   the   name   of   the   deceased   even   without   the  
narrator  –  this  was  a  convention  in  the  greeting  pairs.  Here,  the  name  is  also  told  in  
the   second   verse   of   the   epigram,   and   it   is   thus   understandable   that   the   passerby   (in  
l.  8)  uses  the  name  of  the  deceased  in  the  address:  Μάγν᾽  ἐπὶ  τυμβιδίοις  χαῖρε  καὶ  
εἰνὶ  τάφοις.  After  the  narrative  section  (ll.  1–6),  these  last  two  verses  (ll.  7–8)  form  
an   adjacency   pair   similar   to   type-­‐1   epigrams   in   which   the   speakers   are   the   deceased  
and   the   passerby.   This   epigram   thus   has   both   narrative   and   ‘traditional’   dialogue  
epigram  elements.  

In  the  following  example,  stanzas  form  turns:411    

                                                                                                                         
411
SGO  3,  16/31/93D,  ca  300–350  CE,  Appia/Soa,  Phrygia.  On  this  monument,  the  text  has  been  cut  
into  each  side  of  the  stone,  ca  60  verses  altogether.  This  rather  long  passage  here  is  part  D,  cut  into  

  174  
  
5.     —  Ἀμμία,  θυγάτηρ  πινυτή,  πῶς    |  θάνες  ἤδη;  
  τί  σπεύδουσ᾽  ἔ|θανες,  ἢ  τίς  σ᾽  ἐκιχήσατο  Μοι|ρῶν;  
  πρίν  σε  νυνφικὸν  ἰστέφα|νον  κοσμήσαμεν  ἠν  θαλά|μοισιν,  
  πάτρην  σε  λιπεῖν  πεν|θαλέους  δὲ  τοκῆας.|  
             5      κλήι  σε  πατὴρ  κὲ  πᾶσα  πάτρη  |  κὲ  πότνια  μήτηρ  
τὴν  σὴ[ν]|  ἀωρότηταν  κὲ  ὰθαλάμευ[τον]  |  ἡλικίην.  
 
τῆς  δ᾽  ἀναφθεγξαμ[έ]|νη  ψυχὴ  Ἀμμίαο  θανούση[ς]|  
δάκρυα  θερμὰ  χέουσα  παρίσ|τατο  πατρὶ  αἰδὲ  τεκούσῃ·∙  |  
τῆς  οἶστρος  θανάτοιο  λάβεν,  |  ἐννῆμαρ  δὲ  θανοῦσα  
         10     λεξ[α]|μένη  καθ᾽  ὕπνους  παρηγο[ρ]|ίην  θανάτοιο·∙  
 
—  μὴ  κλῆε,  πάτε[ρ]|  πολυώδυρνε,  μηδὲ  σύ,  μήτηρ·∙|  
ἓν  τέλος  ἑστὶν  τὸ  πᾶσιν  ὀφιλ[ό]|μενον.  
δῶρα  πἀτρης  ἔλαβ[ον]|  συνηλικίης  τε  ἀπάσης,  
δῶρ|[ά]  τ᾽  ἀλεγινῶν  κὲ  πενθαλέου  θαν|[ά]τοιο·∙  
 
           15     ἀλλ᾽  ἐμ᾽  ἐδικέ[ωσ]ε  [σω]τὴ[ρ  ἐ]|μ[ὸς  ᾽Ιη]σοῦ[ς  Χρ]ιστ[ό]ς.  
[ἐώνιον]|  ἤματι  τού[τ]ῳ  [κ]ῦδος  [ὀνηθεῖ]|σα  διὰ  πρ[ε]σβυτέρο[υ]  
[χει]ρ[ῶν]|β[ά]πτισμα  λαβοῦ[σα],  ἔνδικον  |  τιμὴν  παρθενίης·∙  
ἁγνὴ  παρθέ|νος  ἦλθον,  πίστιν  ἁγί[α]ν  ὁ[ρῶ]|σα  
φῶς  ἀέναον  ἔχο[υ]σα,  Ναυά|των  ἁγίων  δὲ  [γ]ενοῦσα.  
         20     π[α]τ[ὴρ]|  γὰρ  ἐμὸ[ς]  πολύοκνος  αἰδέ  τ[ε]|  μήτηρ  
ἀργὴ  μορμύξαντες  |[ἀϋ]τὴν  ἐμ[ὴν  ἐπ]ήκ[ο]υσαν·∙  
παρθενί|ην  Χρισ[τῷ  γὰρ]  ἐκδ[οῦ]σα  πένθ[ος]|  ἄτλητον  ἔθηκ[α].  
κλαῦσέ  με  |  κασιγνήτη  Νόνα  βαρυπενθὰς  |  ἐκίνη  
ἣν  χήραν  ἐλέλιπτο  γα|μβ[ρὸ]ς  Κυριακὸς  ἐμῖο,  
           25     ζευκτὸν  γαμετ|[ὴν]  προλιπὸν  ὃν  Μοῖ[ραι  -­‐-­‐-­‐  
 
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           
the  back.  I  give  only  this  dialogue  part  here;  for  the  rest  of  the  monument,  see  SGO.  For  the  
orthography  of  the  epigram,  see  Perrot,  Guillaume  and  Delbet  1872,  132.  
 

  175  
—  Ammia,  wise  daughter,  how  is  it  (possible)  that  you  died  already?  Why  did  you  die  
so   soon?   Which   of   the   Moiras   did   meet   you?   Before   we   got   to   decorate   the   chamber  
with  bridal  garland  for  you,  you  left  your  fatherland  and  your  grieving  parents!  Your  
father  is  wailing  for  you,  and  so  is  the  whole  community,  and  your  revered  mother.  
They  grieve  for  your  young  age,  your  untimely  death  without  the  bridal  chamber.  

Then  answered  the  soul  of  deceased  Ammia,  shedding  warm  tears,  showing  herself  
(in  dream)  near  her  father  and  mother.  Deadly  fever  had  taken  her;  in  nine  days  she  
was  dead.  She  uttered  in  dream  this  consolation  for  her  death:  

—  Do  not  cry,  much-­‐grieving  father,  nor  you,  mother;  the  one  and  the  same  end  is  
due  to  (us)  all.  I  have  received  gifts  from  my  community  and  from  all  the  comrades  of  
my   age,   gifts   after   my   painful   and   sad   death.   But   my   [sa]vi[our   Je]su[s   Chr]ist   has  
been   fair:   today   I   [receiv]ed   [eternal]   fame   and   profit,   the   baptism,   the   righteous  
wage  for  virginity,  from  the  [hands]  of  a  presbyter.  I  went  as  a  pure  maiden,  seeing  
the   holy   faith,   and   having   the   ever-­‐flowing   light,   (I   have)   become   one   of   the   holy  
Novatians.  My  hesitating  father  and  my  idle  mother  murmured  and  heard  my  voice.  
When  I  gave  Christ  my  maidenhood,  I  set  insufferable  pain  (to  my  parents).    

My   sister   Nonna,   the   deep-­‐grieving,   has   cried   for   me,   whom   my   brother-­‐in-­‐
law  Kyriakos  had  left  as  a  widow,  leaving  behind  the  wedlock,  when  the  Moiras….  

The   speakers   in   this   epigram   are   the   relative,   the   narrator   and   the   deceased   (Χ   –   Y   –  
Z   =   REL   –   N   –   DEC).   The   relative   is   the   father,   and   his   deceased   daughter   consoles  
him  when  he  is  mourning.  They  address  each  other  with  clear  vocatives.  The  father  
speaks  first;  his  turn  opens  the  epigram:  Ἀμμία,  θυγάτηρ  πινυτή,  πῶς  |  θάνες  ἤδη.  
Two  further  questions  follow  this  (arranged  with  plain  interrogatives).  Following  the  
questions,  in  the  same  turn,  the  father  laments  his  daughter  and  her  untimely  death.  
The  second  person  singular  is  used  throughout  this  turn  (ll.  1–6).    

  The   deceased   replies   to   this   turn,   but   before   this   happens,   a   narrator  
intervenes   (ll.   7–10).   In   this   section,   the   course   of   the   events   is   told   in   the   third  
person   singular.   The   narrator   also   describes   Ammia   on   the   moment   she   replies   to  
her  father,  shedding  tears  –  this  is  something  none  of  the  other  speaker  roles  could  
do.  The  passage  begins  with:  τῆς  δ᾽  ἀναφθεγξαμ[έ]νη  ψυχὴν  Ἀμμίαο  θανούση[ς]-­‐-­‐-­‐.  
The  narrator  also  indicates  the  change  of  speaker.  When  a  narrator  steps  in  between  
the   turns,   the   dynamics   of   dialogue   change,   because   certain   linguistic   features   are  

  176  
no   longer   necessary.   In   this   epigram,   however,   the   communicative   turns   at   the  
beginning  and  at  the  end  are  very  similar  to  type-­‐1  or  type-­‐2  turns,  which  becomes  
even   clearer   if   we   read   them   without   the   intervening   narrative   passage.   Features  
such   as   addresses   (at   the   beginning   of   the   epigram:   Ἀμμία,   θυγάτηρ   πινυτή;   and  
then  in  l.  11:  πάτε[ρ]|  πολυώδυρνε;  and  μήτηρ  at  the  beginning  of  the  turn  of  the  
deceased),   imperative   (in   the   turn   of   the   deceased:   μὴ   κλῆε)   and   a   set   of   plain  
interrogative  questions  (at  the  beginning  of  the  epigram,  in  the  relative’s  turn:  πῶς  
θάνες   ἤδη;   τί   σπεύδουσ᾽   ἔθανες,   ἢ   τίς   σ᾽   ἐκιχήσατο   Μοι|ρῶν;)   are   used.   Without  
the   narrator   in   the   centre,   the   turns   of   the   relative   and   the   deceased   would   form   an  
adjacency  pair.  

Ammia’s   reply   follows   the   narrative   section,   and   this   turn   forms   the  
remainder  of  the  epigram  (ll.  15–25).  First,  (l.  15)  she  addresses  her  father  and  asks  
him   not   to   cry:   μὴ   κλῆε,   πάτε[ρ]|   πολυώδυρνε,   and   then   continues   with   μηδὲ   σύ,  
μήτηρ.  Here,  Ammia  also  addresses  her  mother,  who  does  not  have  a  voice  in  this  
epigram,   but   who   is   mentioned   in   the   first   turn. 412  This   section   in   which   the  
deceased   consoles   her   parents   is   four   verses   long.   As   in   many   relative–deceased  
epigrams,  part  of  the  consolation  is  to  remind  the  people  left  behind  that  the  same  
fate  awaits  us  all:  ἓν  τέλος  ἑστὶν  τὸ  πᾶσιν  ὀφιλ[ό]|μενον.  

From  line  15  onwards,  the  deceased  offers  a  very  Christian  viewpoint  of  life  
after  death  and  her  own  acceptance  of  her  fate.  Her  purity  is  also  given  as  a  kind  of  
consolation:   she   did   not   have   a   family,   but   she   had   her   faith   and   she   became   one   of  
the   Novatians.   This   semantic   part   is   introduced   by   ἀλλά;   as   in   several   cases   in   the  
previous  chapters,  here  too  it  marks  a  new  topic  (here  ἀλλ᾽  ἐμ᾽  ἐδικέ[ωσ]ε  [σω]τὴ[ρ  
ἐ]|μ[ὸς  ᾽Ιη]σοῦ[ς  Χρ]ιστ[ό]ς),  after  which  follows  further  explanation.  

In  this  epigram,  the  dialogue  is  ‘interrupted’  by  a  narrator  who  describes  the  
situation,   but   this   dialogue   is   not   embedded   in   a   narration.   Parts   of   it   could   function  
as   an   independent   relative–deceased   epigram,   but   the   writer   has   chosen   to   also   use  
the  narrator  voice.  

                                                                                                                         
412
 Her  father  says  that  her  death  left  the  parents  in  tears:  κλήι  σε  πατὴρ  κὲ  πᾶσα  πάτρη  |  κὲ  πότνια  
μήτηρ  τὴν  σὴ[ν]|  ἀωρότηταν  κὲ  ὰθαλάμευ[τον]  |  ἡλικίην,  lines  5–6.  

  177  
 The   beginning   of   the   next   epigram   is   quite   narrative   in   nature,   and   the  
communicative   section   follows   after   this   narrative   passage   (cf.   no.   4   in   this  
chapter):413  
 
6.     ἔσχατα  μερόπων  δώματα  καὶ  τείχεα  |τύμβοι    
πιστότερα  δόμων  σώμασιν|δακρύων  παραθῆκαι,  
ἄφθορα  νεκύων  |  κτήματα  τὰ  μόνα  παραμένοντα,    
σειγῆς  |  πόλις,  οἶκος  ἴδιος  ἡ  μένουσα    
               5      κοίτη,  ᾗ  παρατί|θεται  τὸ  κάλλος  ἰσφέρουσα  μορφὴ    
καὶ  οὐκέτι  |  μεθ᾽  ὕπνους  ἀπέλαβε,  ἀλλὰ  γέγονε  γυμνή.  
—  τίς  πέλας  ὁ  τάφος,  καὶ  τίνα  κατέχει  νέκυν  ἔνοικον;  
[σ]τυγνὰ  τροπαῖα  βίου,  λελυμένα  π̣ηγνυμένων  
              σημεῖα,  νεκύων  στῆλαι,  ῥήματα  θανόντων,  
         10       τοῖς  ἀλάλοισι  λαλήσατε  γράμμασι·∙  τίς  βροτὸς  
ὧδε  κατέλιπεν  ὄνομα  τὸ  σῶμα  προδαπανήσας;  
—  Κρίσπος  Φαρίης  γῆς  σταχυητρόφου  τε  Νείλου  
ὑπὸ  σήματι  τῷδε  κρύπτεται  θανὼν  πολείτης,  
                τῆς  ἐνρύθμου  τραγῳδίας  στέφος  λαβὼν  τὸ  πρῶτον.  
         15        τὸν  χειρονομοῦντα  θαυμάσας  καὶ  δοξάσας  ὁ  κόσμος  
ἄνθος  χρύσεον  τῶν  ἰδίων  εἶδε  θεάτρων·∙  
οὗ  λαμπομένην  [τ]ὴν  χάριν  ἔσβεσεν  ἀδοκήτως  
ὁ  τρισὶν  δεκάσιν  πληρουμέναις  λιπὼν  ἐνιαυτός.  
 

The   last   house   and   the   last   walls   of   humans   are   the   graves:   they   are   more   faithful  
places  than  the  houses,  reservoirs  where  the  tears  fall  over  the  dead  ones;  the  graves  
are   non-­‐decaying   possessions   of   the   deceased   ones,   and   the   only   things   that   remain.  
A   city   of   silence,   the   steadfast   resting   place   is   an   own   house,   where   the   body   is  
placed  with  its  beauty,  and  after  the  death  sleep,  s/he  does  not  get  it  back,  but  has  
become  naked.  

                                                                                                                         
413 nd rd
 IK  Heraclea  Pont.  9  =  SGO  2,  09/11/02,  2 /3  century  CE,  Heraclea  Pontica,  Bithynia.  Also  Christian  
2015,  206–8.  For  other  X  –  Y  variations  in  t3,  see  SGO  1,  06/02/32  (=  SEG  50,  1762;  SEG  53,  2191;  SEG  
60,  1930);  SGO  2,  08/01/51  (=  SEG  60,  1999)  and  SEG  4,  17/06/02  (=  SEG  44,  1833;  SEG  52,  1918).  The  
speakers  in  these  epigrams  are  the  deceased  and  the  relative  (06/02/32),  the  monument  (or  narrator)  
and  deceased  (08/01/51),  and  the  deceased  and  the  relative  (17/06/02).  

  178  
  —   What   kind   of   a   grave   is   this   here,   and   who   is   the   deceased   that   lives   here?   Oh  
hated   victory   monuments   of   those   who   have   left   life,   dissolving   markers   of   the  
stiffening   (corpses),   gravestones   of   the   dead,   speak   with   silent   letters   the   words   of  
the  dead.  Which  mortal  man  left  here  his  name  after  he  had  worn  out  his  body?    

—   The   deceased   Crispus,   citizen   of   the   Pharian   land   and   corn-­‐giving   Nile,   is   hidden  
under  this  grave  monument,  (he)  who  won  the  first  victory  garland  of  the  rhythmic  
tragedy.  The  world  admired  (his)  pantomime,  and  praised  it,  and  saw  his  theatre  as  a  
golden  flowering.  His  30th  year  faded  unexpectedly  and  left  his  shiny  grace.  

In   this   epigram   the   first   speaker   is   the   narrator   (ll.   1–6),   followed   by   the   passerby   (ll.  
7–11),  and  then  the  monument  (ll.  12–18).414  The  first  turn  (voice  of  the  narrator)  is  
not   directed   to   anyone   specifically,   whereas   the   rest   of   the   epigram   consists   of   a  
question  turn  and  an  answer  turn.  The  beginning  of  the  epigram,  told  in  the  narrator  
voice,  is  general  in  nature;  in  this  section,  the  graves  are  called  the  last  houses  of  the  
humans415,  for  that  is  all  that  they  have  after  their  death.  The  communicative  section  
follows   this.   This   section   is   not   about   the   deceased   in   question:   no   information  
about   him   is   given   at   all.   It   is   only   in   the   dialogue   that   the   epigram   focuses   on   a  
particular  deceased  individual.  
The   communicative   section   begins   with   questions   aimed   at   acquiring  
information  about  the  deceased.  The  first  ones  are  plain  interrogative  questions:  τίς  
πέλας  ὁ  τάφος,  καὶ  τίνα  κατέχει  νέκυν   ἔνοικον;  The  next  question  is  introduced  with  
a   slightly   complex   structure.   The   addresses   are   given   first   ([σ]τυγνὰ   τροπαῖα   βίου  
λελυμένα  π̣ηγνυμένων  /  σημεῖα,  νεκύων  στῆλαι,  ῥήματα  θανόντων),  and  after  this  
list,   the   passerby   exhorts   these   monuments   to   speak   with   silent   letters   (an  
imperative   is   used):   τοῖς   ἀλάλοισι   λαλήσατε   γράμμασι.   Only   after   this   is   there   an  
actual  question:  τίς  βροτὸς  /  ὧδε  κατέλιπεν-­‐-­‐-­‐.    
Even  though  the  addresses  in  the  second  turn  are  plural  (and  hence  create  an  
illusion   that   distracts   from   the   monumental   context   –   it   is   as   if   the   recipient   was   not  
near   a   certain   monument,   but   was   reading   the   grave   monuments   in   general),   the  

                                                                                                                         
414
 Note  that  in  verses  1–6  the  line  division  differs  from  the  verse  division.  The  metre  is  Sotadean;  the  
metric  scheme  is  given  in  SGO;  see  also  West  1982,  144–5.  
415
 There  is  a  house-­‐like  structure  on  the  monument;  see  SGO  for  photo.  

  179  
final   speaker   voice   must   be   the   monument.416  The   turn   begins   with   Κρίσπος   Φαρίης  
γῆς   σταχυητρόφου   τε   Νείλου   /   ὑπὸ   σήματι   τῷδε   κρύπτεται   θανὼν   πολείτης,  
wherein  the  deictic  ὑπὸ  σήματι  τῷδε  clearly  refers  to  the  monument  in  question.  It  
is   stated   that   the   deceased   was   a   pantomime   actor,   which   of   course   gives   a   new  
dimension  to  the  words  τοῖς  ἀλάλοισι  λαλήσατε  γράμμασι,   speak  with  silent  letters,  
but  perhaps  this  also  refers  to  the  physical  letters  on  the  monument.  Even  though  
the  letters  were  read  aloud,  the  text  itself  does  not  speak,  but  is  ‘silent’.  The  author  
of  the  poem  most  probably  played  with  this  double  meaning  of  this  expression,  i.e.  
the  pantomime  actor  and  the  reception  situation  of  the  epigram  (read  aloud).  
Some  literary  influence  is  visible  in  the  epigrams  discussed  in  this  section.  It  
shows  in  references  to  Hades  and  afterlife,  also  discussed  in  non-­‐inscribed  epigrams.    
In  addition  to  that,  there  are  certain  elements   in  structure  that  indicate  influence  of  
other  genres:  for  example  narrative  parts  (in  nos.  3,  4,  5  and  6)  and  invocations  of  
the   chthonic   gods   (no.   3)   are   elements   familiar   from   e.g.   hymns.   The   thoughtful  
description  of  graves  as  human’s  last  houses  in  no.  6  and  the  Christian  tones  in  no.  5  
also  clearly  draw  from  elsewhere  than  verse  inscription  tradition.    
 
5.2  Embedded  dialogue    

The   speakers   in   the   epigrams   with   embedded   dialogue   are   either   narrator   +   2   or  
narrator   +   1.   Narrator   +   2   type   can   be   depicted   as   N   –   X   –   N   –   Y,   where   N   =   the  
narrator,  X  =  the  first  speaker  of  dialogue  and  Y  =  the  second  speaker.  The  order  of  
the  turns  can  vary.  The  paradigm  for  the  N  +  1  epigrams  is  N  –  X  –  N  –  N2,  and  this  
type   is   otherwise   similar   to   the   first   version,   but   N2   is   the   turn   uttered   by   the  
narrator  himself  in  the  conversation  about  which  he  later  reports  in  the  past  tense  
(or  which  he  imagines).417  In  the  X,  Y  and  N2  turns,  the  elements  may  be  similar  to  
the   adjacency   pairs,   but   the   conversation   is   always   part   of   the   narrative,   which   is  

                                                                                                                         
416
 Monument  rather  than  the  narrator,  because  the  narrator  does  not  participate  the  conversation,  
see  section  2.2.5.  
417
 According  to  the  definitions  of  Bal  1997,  22,  the  narrator  in  the  narrator  +  1  type  is  a  ‘character-­‐
bound  narrator’,  whereas  a  narrator  reporting  the  conversation  in  which  he  does  not  partake  is  ‘an  
external  narrator’.  

  180  
told   in   an   ‘X   said   this   and   Y   said   that’   frame.   Hence,   the   texts   are   dialogical  
monologal  rather  than  dialogal.418  

In  the  examples  in  Section  5.1,  the  narrator  either  depicted  the  situation  first,  
and   the   communicative   part   followed,   or   the   narrator   interrupted   the   dialogue  
between   the   other   two   speakers.   The   epigrams   with   an   ‘interrupting’   narrator   are  
closer  to  the  epigrams  with  embedded  dialogue.    

This   so-­‐called   embedded   dialogue   is   far   more   frequent   in   the   non-­‐inscribed  

epigrams   than   in   the   verse   inscriptions.   Fictive   poetry   is   (relatively)   free   from   the  
conventions  of  inscribed  poetry.  Many  of  the  non-­‐inscribed  epigrams  bear  traces  of  
monumental  context  either  in  the  structure  or  in  the  themes,  but  it  is  by  no  means  
ubiquitous.   There   are   dialogues   with   speakers   other   than   the   monument   or   the  
deceased,   and   there   are   narratives   that   offer   communicative   sections   that   are   not  
related  to  monuments.  The  influence  goes  both  ways:  the  non-­‐inscribed  epigrams  of  
this   type   have   also   influenced   some   verse   inscriptions.   In   this   section,   I   will   first   give  
two   verse   inscription   examples,   and   then   discuss   different   kinds   of   non-­‐inscribed  
epigrams   with   embedded   dialogue.   Even   though   many   of   the   examples   in   this  
chapter   are   non-­‐inscribed,   it   is   important   to   discuss   these   examples,   as   they,   for  
their  part,  show  one  (rather  late)  trend  of  communicative  structures  in  the  epigrams.    

 
5.2.1  Embedded  dialogue  in  verse  inscriptions  

In  most  of  the  dialogue  epigrams  that  we  have  seen  so  far,  the  speakers  are  denoted  
by   means   other   than   using   the   narrator   voice.   Not   surprisingly,   however,   the  
narrative  development  is  also  evident  in  some  verse  inscriptions.  The  first  example  is  
an  epigram  from  Kissia,  Lycaonia:419    

7.     ἐξ  ἀγαθῆς  ῥίζης  ἔρνος  κλυτὸν  ἐξε[φ]αάνθη  

Μένανδρος  πανάριστος,  ἐπὶ  μέ[γ]α  οὔνο<μα>  ἔσχε  
πρεσβ(ύτερος)  γεγοὼς  π̣ανυπέρτατος̣  ἠδὲ  δίκαιος·∙  
                                                                                                                         
418
 cf.  Kroon  1995,  109–10  again.  
419
 SGO  3,  14/04/03,  funerary,  dated  after  312  CE  on  the  basis  of  the  monogram  of  Constantines  
which  is  cut  into  the  stone.  

  181  
 οὗ  δὴ  λίψανα  κῖτε  ὑπὸ  χθόνα  που̣[λ]υβοτίρην,  
         5     ψυχὴ  δ᾽  αὐτοῖο  ἵν᾽  ἀθάνατος  [Θ]εὸς  ἔστιν  
Ἀβραμίοις  κόλποις  ἀναπαύε̣[τ]ε  ὡς  μακάρων  τις·∙  
ὃν  πάτρη  ὑμενεῖ  ἐπευφη̣[μ]ῖ  δέ  ἑ  δῆμος.  
                        τῷ  δ᾽  ἄλοχος  Κ̣λέουσα  προσένν̣[ε]πε  μυρομένη  περ·∙    
  —  πῶς  μούν̣η̣ν̣  μ̣᾽  ἔλιπες  καὶ̣  [-­‐-­‐-­‐]α  πήματα  πάσχω;  
         10        πιρώθεν̣  [δ᾽  α]ὐτὴν  ἀπαμίβετ̣᾽  [ἑ]ὸς  πόσις  ἐσθλός·∙  
  —  ὦμοι  ἐμὴ  ἄλοχε  μὴ  δάκρυε  [μ]ηδ᾽  ὀρόθυνε  
  ψυχὰς  κασιγνήτων,  ἐπὶ  πόθεό[ν]  με  καὶ  αὐτοὶ  
  τερπόμενοι  ζώοντι  θεῷ{ν}  ὅτ[ε]  οἱ  εὔαδεν  οὕτω·∙  
  εὐχωλὰς  δὲ  Θεῷ  ἀποτίνυ[ε·∙  ὥ]ς  κέ  σε  θᾶσσον  
         15      ῥύσετ᾽  ἐξ  ἀχέων  καί  μοι  κ[αλὸν]  οὔνομα  λίποις.    
 

From   a   good   root,   a   famous   sprout   has   appeared,   Menandros,   the   best   of   all,  
because   he   received   a   great   name.   He   has   become   a   very   high   and   righteous  
presbyter:   his   relics   lie   under   the   all-­‐nourishing   earth,   but   his   soul   is   where   the  
immortal  God  is;  it  rests  in  Abraham’s  lap,  since  it  belongs  to  one  of  the  blessed  ones.  
His   fatherland   praises   him,   the   people   sing   praise   (to   him).   To   him   wife   Kleousa  
sa[i]d,  weeping:  

 —How  could  you  leave  me  alone,  I  am  suffering  [-­‐-­‐-­‐]  miseries!    

From  on  high  (above),  [he]r  [o]wn  good  husband  replied  to  her:    

—Oh  my  wife,  don’t  cry,  and  [d]o  not  stir  up  the  souls  of  (Christian)  brothers,  for  they  
also  mour[n]ed  for  me,  rejoicing  in  the  living  God,  when  that  pleased  him.  Addres[s]  
your   prayers   to   God   [t]o   be   released   from   grief   more   quickly,   (so)   you   may   give   me   a  
be[autiful]  name  in  return.  

The  speakers  are  the  narrator,  the  relative  and  the  deceased.  The  turns  are  divided  
as  follows:  N  –  X  –  N  –  Y,  i.e.  narrator  –  relative  –  narrator  –  deceased.  

At  the  beginning  of  the  epigram,  in  lines  1–8,  the  narrator  gives  information  
about   the   deceased,   and   the   rest   of   the   poem   consists   of   a   dialogue   between   the  
mourning   spouse,   Kleousa   (l.   9),   and   the   consoling   deceased,   Menandros   (ll.   11–15).  
Between  their  turns,  however,  the  narrator  voice  is  used  again  (l.  10).  The  first  part  

  182  
told   in   the   narrator   voice   is   actually   eight   verses   long,   and   in   line   8,   the   narrator  
introduces  the  following  turn  of  the  relative  (the  wife).  In  this  sentence,  δέ  is  used  to  
connect   the   following   turn   to   the   larger   text   unit,   and   the   speaker   change   is  
revealed:   τῳ   δ᾽   ἄλοχος   Κ̣λέουσα   προσένν̣[ε]πε   μυρομένη   περ·∙,   to   him   the   wife  
Kleousa  said  -­‐-­‐-­‐.  

In   line   9,   Kleousa   addresses   the   deceased.   She   mourns   the   fact   that   he   has  
left  her  alone  to  suffer  miseries.  The  second  person  singular  is  used:  πῶς  μούν̣η̣ν̣   μ̣᾽  
ἔλιπες   καὶ̣   [-­‐-­‐-­‐]α   πήματα   πάσχω;   The   deceased   could   reply   to   this   directly,420  but   the  
narrator   steps   in   again   and   states   that   the   sound   of   the   deceased   came   from   high  
above   (l.   10):   πιρώθεν̣   [δ᾽   α]ὐτὴν   ἀπαμίβετ̣   [ἑ]ὸς   πόσις   ἐσθλός.421  After   this,   the  
deceased   speaks   and   consoles   his   mourning   wife;   he   begins   with   an   address   and  
imperatives   (ll.   11–12):   ὦμοι   ἐμὴ   ἄλοχε   μὴ   δάκρυε   [μ]ηδ᾽   ὀρόθυνε   /   ψυχὰς  
κασιγνήτων-­‐-­‐-­‐.   The   turn   of   the   deceased   combines   the   consolation   and   a   Christian  
sentiment   –   the   epigram   ends   with   an   exhortation   to   pray   to   God   (ll.   15–16):  
εὐχωλὰς   δὲ   Θεῷ   ἀποτίνυ[ε·∙   ὥ]ς   κέ   σε   θᾶσσον   /   ῥύσετ᾽   ἐξ   ἀχέων   καί   μοι   κ[αλὸν]  
οὔνομα  λίποις.  This  is  similar  to  the  exhortations  to  participate  in  the  ritual,  but  here  
they  are  adapted  to  Christian  practice.  

  The  next  example  is  a  verse  inscription  beginning  with  a  narrative  section.422  
It  is  a  good  example  of  the  similarities  between  the  narrator  and  monument  voices:    

8.   μητρὶ  δέμας  γαίῃ  προλιπὼν  θεοΐκελος  ἀνὴρ  

  πάτρης  ἐν  ζαθέοις  ὄρεσιν  τυκτῷ  ὑπὸ  τύμβῳ  
  οὐλόμενον  γῆρας  προφυγὼν  μεσάτῃ  ἐνὶ  ἥβῃ  
  αἰθερίας  ἁψῖδος  ἔβη  μακάρων  μεθ᾽  ὅμειλον,  
               5   πάτρην  κυδήνας  γέρασιν  στεφάνοισί  τε  πολλ[οῖς],  
  οὓς  ἀναδησάμενος  πρῶτος  παρέδωκε  τέκεσσι.  
  —  τίς  δ᾽  ὅδ᾽  ἀνήρ;  φήσει  τις  ὁδειτάων  παριόντων,  

                                                                                                                         
420
 cf.  adjacency  pairs,  and  also  X  –  Y  –  Z  epigrams  in  Section  5.1,  no.  1.  
421
 Similar  to  narrator  in  no.  5,  but  that  is  X  –  N  –  Y  whereas  this,  as  noted,  is  N  –  X  –  N  –Y  .  
422 rd th
 GVI  1887;  cf.  Bernand,  Inscr.Métr.  27,    3 /4  century  CE,  Saqqarah,  Egypt.  For  yet  another  verse  
inscription  with  embedded  dialogue,  see  SGO  3,  14/12/01  (=  SEG  6,  488)  (fragmentary).  

  183  
   —  τίς  μάκαρ  οὕτως  ἐστί,  τίς  ὄλβιος,  ὅν  τε  σὺ  κεύθεις;  
  τὸν  δὲ  ἐγὼ  σειγῇ  τε  καὶ  οὐ  λαλέουσα  διδάξω·∙  
           10     —  Ὠριγένους  ἔρνος  γλυκερόν,  Κάσιος  μυροπώλης.    
 

A   god-­‐like   man   left   his   body   to   mother   earth,   he   (went)   under   the   sacred   heap   of   his  
fatherland’s  man-­‐made  tomb;  he  fled  the  unhappy  old  age  in  the  middle  of  the  bloom  
of   youth,   and   went   among   the   blessed,   high   in   the   air;   he,   who   adorned   his  
fatherland  with  many  gifts  of  honour  and  garlands,  which  he  bound  and  gave  first  to  
his  children.  ‘Who  is  this  man?’,  one  of  the  travellers  passing  by  may  say.  ‘Who  is  so  
happy,  who  is  blessed,  whom  you  hide?’  Then  I  will  keep  silent,  and  inform  this  one  
without  speaking:  ‘Sweet  sprout  of  Origenes,  Cassius  the  perfumer’.  

In  lines  1–6,  the  deceased  is  described  in  the  third  person.  Who  is  the  speaker?  Is  it  a  
narrator   or   the   monument?   It   could   be   either   one.   There   are   no   direct   references   to  
a  particular  monument;  for  example,  τυκτῴ  ὑπὸ  τύμβῳ  does  not  contain  deictics  or  
anything  else  that  would  help  to  identify  the  monument  as  the  speaker.  While  the  
monument  could  talk  about  the  deceased  in  the  third  person,  the  content  is  not  very  
informative,   and   the   speaker   is   somewhat   vague.   Up   until   the   end   of   the   epigram,  
the  speaker  appears  to  be  a  neutral,  outsider  reporter,  but  at  the  end  (l.  9:  τὸν  δὲ  
ἐγὼ   σειγῇ   τε   καὶ   οὐ   λαλέουσα   διδάξω),   it   seems   to   be   the   monument.   This   makes   it  
more  probably  that  the  monument  is  the  speaker  in  the  whole  epigram.  

  There   is   ‘a   potential   passerby’   in   lines   7–8:   ‘τίς   δ᾽   ὅδ᾽   ἀνέρ;’   φήσει   τις  
ὁδειτάων   παριόντων,   /   ‘τίς   μάκαρ   οὕτως   ἐστὶ,   τίς   ὄλβιος   ὅν   τε   σὺ   κεύθεις’;   The  
speaker   who   states   φήσει   τις   ὁδειτάων   παριόντων   is   the   same   one   as   in   the   first   six  
verses.  This  speaker  expresses  the  idea  ‘if  someone  should  ask’,  and  then  gives  the  
possible  questions  that  a  passerby  (τις  ὁδειτάων  παριόντων)  could  ask.  The  last  two  
lines   (9–10)   unambiguously   reveal   the   identity   of   the   speaker   of   the   whole   epigram:  
τὸν   δὲ   ἐγὼ   σειγῇ   τε   καὶ   οὐ   λαλέουσα   διδάξω·∙   /   ‘   Ὠριγένους   ἔρνος   γλυκερόν,   Κάσιος  
μυροπώλης’.  It  is  the  monument  that  keeps  silent  and  informs  without  speaking,  i.e.  
through   the   inscription,   the   identity   of   the   deceased.   The   end   of   the   epigram  
indicates   that   ἐγώ   (l.   9)   is   the   monument,   and,   as   the   context   shows,   has   been   from  
start.   The   speaker   paradigm   is   thus   N   –   X   –   N   –   N2,   although   X   is   a   ‘hypothetical  

  184  
speaker’.  The  narrator  does  not  report  a  past  conversation,  but  offers  a  possible  one,  
and  the  situation  is  revealed  through  the  morphology:  see  φήσει  (l.  7)  and  σειγῇ  τε  
καὶ  οὐ  λαλέουσα  διδάξω  (l.  9).  In  other  words,  the  epigram  offers  a  potential  scene  
with   a   passerby   who   will   come   and   wonder   who   lies   here,   and   then   read   the   text.   In  
this   epigram,   the   fictive   pattern   and   inscription   traditions   are   combined.   The  
passerby  role  is  used  to  depict  an  ‘imaginary’  conversation,  which,  once  again,  is  a  
narrative  pattern.423  

5.2.2  Embedded  dialogue  in  non-­‐inscribed  epigrams  

In   the   non-­‐inscribed   epigrams,   the   theme   and   the   speaker   roles   are   free   to   vary  
more   than   in   the   inscribed   monuments.   In   the   following   example,   the   theme   is  
love:424  

9.   ὡς  εἶδον  Μελίτην,  ὦχρός  μ᾽  ἕλε·∙  καἰ  γὰρ  ἀκοίτης    

       κείνῃ  ἐφωμάρτει·∙  τοῖα  δ᾽  ἔλεξα  τρέμων·∙  
  τοῦ  σοῦ  ἀνακροῦσαι  δύναμαι  πυλεῶνος  ὀχῆας,  
       δικλίδος  ὑμετέρης  τὴν  βάλανον  χαλάσας,  
               5      καὶ  δισσῶν  προθύρων  πλαδαρὴν  κρηπῖδα  περῆσαι,  
       ἄκρον  ἐπιβλῆτος  μεσσόθι  πηξάμενος;  
  ἡ  δὲ  λέγει  γελάσασα,  καὶ  ἀνέρα  λοξὸν  ἰδοῦσα·∙  
       τῶν  προθύρων  ἀπέχου,  μή  σε  κύων  ὀλέσῃ.  
 

When   I   saw   Melite,   I   grew   pale,   for   her   husband   was   with   her,   but   I   said   to   her  
trembling,   ‘May   I   push   back   the   bolts   of   your   door,   loosening   the   bolt-­‐pin,   and   fixing  
in  the  middle  the  tip  of  my  key,  pierce  the  damp  base  of  the  folding  door?’  But  she,  
laughing   and   glancing   at   her   husband,   said,   ‘You   had   better   keep   away   from   my  
door,  or  the  dog  may  worry  you.’    

(Translation  by  Paton)  

                                                                                                                         
423
 For  the  paradox  of  speaking  stone  here  see  also  Christian  2015,  84.  
424
 Eratosthenes  Scholasticus,  AG  5.242.    cf.  Strato,  AG  12.8  for  a  similar  erotic  epigram  with  an  
embedded  dialogue.    

  185  
  

The  speakers  are  the  anonymous  narrator  and  his  lover  Melite.  The  narrator  is  the  
inner-­‐self   of   the   epigram,   and   he   depicts   a   past   conversation.   The   use   of   the   past  
tense  (εἶδον,  ἕλε,  ἐφωμάρτει  and  ἔλεξα)  to  describe  the  discussion  shows  that  the  
conversation   does   not   take   place   here   and   now,   but   that   it   happened   in   the   past.  
The   inner-­‐self   of   the   epigram   states   that   seeing   his   lover   Melite   made   him   feel  
uncomfortable,  as  her  husband  was  with  her,  but  he  spoke  to  her  nonetheless.  The  
speech  is  introduced  with  δέ:  τοῖα  δ᾽  ἔλεξα  τρέμων  (l.  2).  The  narrator’s  turn  follows,  
and   he   addresses   Melite,   the   other   speaker   of   the   poem,   in   the   second   person  
singular.  The  narrator-­‐self  then  introduces  Melite’s  turn,  and  δέ  is  used  again:  ἡ  δὲ  
λέγει   γελάσασα,   καὶ   ἀνέρα   λοξὸν   ἰδοῦσα   (l.   7).   After   this,   Melite   responds   to   the  
narrator  (concerning  what  he  told  her  in  ll.  3–6):  τῶν  προθύρων  ἀπέχου,  μή  σε  κύων  
ὀλέσῃ  (l.  8).  The  communicative  section  of  the  epigram  is  thus:    
Narrator:     τοῦ  σοῦ  ἀνακροῦσαι  δύναμαι  πυλεῶνος  ὀχῆας,  
        δικλίδος  ὑμετέρης  τὴν  βάλανον  χαλάσας  
      καὶ  δισσῶν  προθύρων  πλαδαρὴν  κρηπῖδα  περῆσαι,  
        ἄκρον  ἐπιβλῆτος  μεσσόθι  πηξάμενος;  
Melite:     —  τῶν  προθύρων  ἀπέχου,  μή  σε  κύων  ὀλέσῃ.  
Before  the  turns,  however,  the  narrator  depicts  the  situation  and  denotes  the  next  
speaker.   His   own   turn   is   introduced   by   ὡς   εἶδον   Μελίτην-­‐-­‐-­‐   τοῖα   δ᾽   ἔλεξα   τρέμων,  
and   Melite’s   turn   by   ἡ   δὲ   λέγει   γελάσασα-­‐-­‐-­‐.   The   structure   is   N   –   N2   –   N   –   X,   i.e.  
narrator   (descriptive)   –   narrator   (communicative) 425  –   narrator   (descriptive)   –  
Melite.  

The  following  epigram,  which  is  attributed  to  Socrates,  has  a  structure  similar  
to  that  of  the  previous  example,  but  this  epigram  presents  an  arithmetic  problem:426    

10.     ἁ  Κύπρις  τὸν    Ἔρωτα  κατηφιόωντα  προσηύδα·∙  

τίπτε  τοι,  ὦ  τέκος,  ἄλγος  ἐπέχραεν;  ὃς  δ᾽  ἀπάμειπτο·∙    

                                                                                                                         
425
 i.e.  narrator  as  a  participant  in  the  dialogue  (as  an  active  speaker  who  does  have  a  turn  in  the  
conversation).  
426
 AG  14.3.  

  186  
 Πιερίδες  μοι  μῆλα  διήρπασαν  ἄλλυδις  ἄλλη,    
αἰνύμεναι  κόλποιο,  τὰ  δὴ  φέρον  ἐξ  Ἑλικῶνος.    
Κλειὼ  μὲν  μήλων  πέμπτον  λάβε·∙  δωδέκατον  δὲ    
Εὐτέρπη·∙  ἀτὰρ  ὀγδοάτην  λάχε  δῖα  Θάλεια·∙    
Μελπομένη  δ᾽  εἰκοστὸν  ἀπαίνυτο·∙Τερψιχόρη  δὲ    
τέτρατον  ἑβδομάτην  δ᾽  Ἐρατὼ  μετεκίαθε  μοίρην    
ἡ  δὲ  τριηκόντων  με  Πολύμνια  νόσφισε  μήλων,    
Οὐρανίη  δ᾽  ἑκατόν  τε  καὶ  εἴκοσι·∙  Καλλιόπη  δὲ    
βριθομένη  μήλοισι  τριηκοσίοισι  βέβηκε.    
σοὶ  δ᾽  ἄρα  κουφοτέρῃσιν  ἐγὼ  σὺν  χερσὶν  ἱκάνω,    
πεντήκοντα  φέρων  τάδε  λείψανα  μῆλα  θεάων.  
 

Cypris  addressed  the  downcast  Eros:  ‘Why,  my  child,  has  sorrow  fallen  on  you?’  And  
he   answered:   ‘The   Muses   stole   and   divided   among   themselves,   in   different  
proportions,  the  apples  I  was  bringing  from  Helicon,  snatching  them  from  my  bosom.  
Clio   got   the   fifth   part,   and   Euterpe   the   twelfth,   but   divine   Thalia   the   eighth.  
Melpomene   carried   off   the   twentieth   part,   and   Terpsichore   the   fourth,   and   Erato   the  
seventh;   Polyhymnia   robbed   me   of   thirty   apples,   and   Urania   of   a   hundred   and  
twenty,  and  Calliope  went  off  with  a  load  of  three  hundred  apples.  So  I  come  to  you  
with  lighter  hands,  bringing  these  fifty  apples  that  the  goddesses  left  me.’427  

 (Translation   according   to   Paton,   but   with   minor   changes   at   the   beginning   of   the  
epigram)  

The  speakers  are  the  narrator  and  the  gods  Cypris  (Aphrodite)  and  Eros.  The  narrator  
begins  the  epigram  by  stating  who  talked  to  whom  (a  -­‐>  b):  ἁ  Κύπρις  (a)  τὸν  Ἔρωτα  
(b)  κατηφιόωντα  προσηύδα  (l.  1).  After  this,  the  speaker  is  Aphrodite.  Her  turn  is  a  
question   turn   with   an   address:   τίπτε   τοι,   ὦ   τέκος,   ἄλγος   ἐπέχραεν   (l.   2,   the   first  
half).428  Following  this,  the  narrator  cuts  in  again  and  states,  using  the  third  person,  
that   Eros   answered:   ὃς   δ᾽   ἀπάμειπτο   (l.   2,   the   second   half).   Once   again,   δέ  
progresses  the  conversation.  In  verses  3–13,  Eros  replies.  The  speakers  are  N  –  X  –  N  
                                                                                                                         
427
 Solution:  3360  (672  +  280  +  420  +168  +  840  +  480  +  30  +  120  +300  +  50);  see  Paton.  
428 2  
 cf.  no.  2  in  Chapter  5  =  IG  II/III 13166:  τίπ̣τ̣ε,  π̣ό̣σ̣ι̣[ς],  φων̣[εῖς;-­‐-­‐-­‐.  

  187  
–   Y,   i.e.   narrator   –   Aphrodite   –   narrator   –   Eros.   The   communicative   turns   of   the  
epigram  (turns  of  Aphrodite  and  Eros)  resemble  the  type-­‐1  epigrams,  variant  2.  The  
reply  turn  (by  Eros)  is  the  core  of  the  epigram,  but  the  dialogue  structure  serves  as  
an  introduction  to  the  turn.  The  speakers  are  not  easily  recognisable  (as  they  would  
be  on  a  monument),  so  they  need  to  be  clearly  marked  by  the  narrator  before  each  
turn.429  

The  following  epigram  is  similar  to  the  previous  two,  except  for  the  end,  
which  is  slightly  different:  430  
 

11.   Αἴαντος  παρὰ  τύμβον  ἀταρβήτοιο  παραστὰς  

     Φρὺξ  ἥρωι  κακῆς  ἦρχεν  ἐπεσβολίης·∙  
  Αἴας  δ᾽  οὐκέτ᾽  ἔμιμνεν·∙  ὁ  δ᾽  ἀντεγέγωνεν  ἔνερθεν·∙  
     μίμνεν·∙  ὁ  δ’  οὐκέτ’  ἔτλη  ζωὸς  ἀποφθίμενον.  
 

A  Phrygian,  halting  by  the  tomb  of  fearless  Ajax,  began  to  insult  the  hero:  ‘But  Ajax  
no   longer   stood   firm’.431  But   he   cried   as   an   answer   from   underground:   ‘He   stood  
firm’.  And  the  living  man  could  no  longer  bear  the  dead  (i.e.  he  fled).    
 
(Translation  loosely  follows  Paton’s  translation)  
 

The   speakers   in   this   epigram   are   narrator   +   2,   i.e.   narrator   –   the   Phrygian   –   narrator  
–  Ajax,  N  –  X  –  N  –  Y.  The  narrator  tells  a  story  in  which  the  Phrygian  insults  Ajax  at  
his  grave,  and  Ajax  replies  from  the  underground  and  frightens  off  the  Phrygian.  The  
narrator  is  used  to  mark  the  speakers:  -­‐-­‐-­‐Φρύξ  ἥρωι  κακῆς  ἦρχεν  ἐπεσβολίης  (l.  2)  
and   ὁ   δ᾽   ἀντεγέγωνεν   ἔνερθεν   (l.   3).   Note   that   δέ   is   used   when   introducing   the  
second  speaker  of  the  dialogue  (third  voice  of  the  epigram):  ὁ  δ᾽-­‐-­‐-­‐,  before  the  turn  
of  Ajax.432  After  the  narrator,  the  Phrygian,  the  narrator  and  Ajax  have  spoken,  the  
narrator  closes  the  poem  by  telling  the  consequence:  the  Phrygian  fled  the  tomb:  ὁ  

                                                                                                                         
429
 cf.  AG  14.129  by  Metrodorus  for  similar  structure.  This  epigram  is  also  an  arithmetic  problem.    
430
 Anonymous,  AG  9.177.  
431
 Hom.  Il.  15.717;  pointed  out  by  Paton.  For  introducing  the  speakers  with  δέ,  cf.  no  7  in  this  
chapter.  
432
 For  introducing  the  speakers  with  δέ,  cf.  nos.  7  (although  restored),  9  and  10  of  the  epigrams  in  
this  chapter.  

  188  
δ᾽   οὐκέτ᾽   ἔτλη   ζωὸς   ἀποφθίμενον.   As   a   result   of   this   last   note,   the   exact   structure   of  
this  epigram  is  N  –  X  –  N  –  Y  –  N.    
The   idea   of   ghostly   Ajax   crying   from   the   underground   is   an   interesting  
variation:   surely   the   audience   was   familiar   with   the   idea   of   the   talking   monument,  
and  also  the  voice  of  the  deceased  in  the  (monument)  epigrams,  and  yet  the  voice  of  
Ajax  is  here  depicted  as  something  unexpected  –  this  epigram  clearly  plays  with  the  
usual  speaker  traditions  and  expectations.  Despite  the  speaker  roles  and  the  rather  
ironic  tone,  this  epigram  resembles  the  grave  epigrams  in  which  the  passerby  (here  
the   Phrygian)   comes   near   the   grave,   and   either   the   monument   or   the   deceased  
(here  Ajax)  replies  to  his/her  turn.  
  The  next  epigram  plays  with  Spartan  ideals:433    

12.     εἶπέ  ποκ᾽  Εὐρώτας  ποτὶ  τὰν  Κύπριν·∙  ἢ  λάβε  τεύχη,  

       ἢ  ᾽ξιθι  τᾶς  Σπάρτας·∙  ἁ  πόλις  ὁπλομανεῖ.  
  ἁ  δ᾽  ἀπαλὸν  γελάσασα,    καὶ  ἔσσομαι  αἰὲν  ἀτευχής,  
       εἶπε,  καὶ  οἰκήσω  τὰν  Λακεδαιμονίαν.  
               5        χἀμῖν  Κύπρις  ἄνοπλος·∙  ἀναιδέες  οἵδε  λέγουσιν  
       ἵστορες,  ὡς  ἁμῖν  χἀ  θεὸς  ὁπλοφορεῖ.  
 

Eurotas   once   said   to   Cypris,   ‘Either   arm   yourself   or   go   out   of   Sparta.   This   town   is  
crazy  for  war’.  She  smiled  gently  and  replied,  ‘I  will  both  remain  always  unarmed  and  
continue  to  live  in  the  land  of  Lacedaemon’.  Our  Cypris  is  unarmed  as  elsewhere,  and  
these  are  shameless  writers  who  declare  that  with  us  even  the  goddess  bears  arms.    

(Translation  according  to  Paton,  but  with  minor  alterations)  

In   the   first   verse,   ποκ᾽   emphasises   the   past   tense   and   thus   the   fact   that   the   dialogue  
took   place   earlier.   In   line   1,   the   narrator   only   mentions   the   speakers:   εἶπέ-­‐-­‐-­‐
Εὐρώτας-­‐-­‐-­‐τὰν  Κύπριν  (VSO).  This  reveals  both  speakers  of  the  dialogue,  Eurotas  and  
Aphrodite   (Cypris).   Eurotas’s   turn   follows   this   narrative   introduction   (ll.   1–2),   and  
after  that,  the  narrator  reports  that  ἁ  δ’  ἀπαλὸν  γελάσασα  (l.  3).  Here,  ἁ  refers  to  

                                                                                                                         
433
 AG  9.320,  Leonidas  of  Tarentum.  

  189  
Aphrodite,  and  her  turn  follows.  Once  more,  δέ  introduces  the  second  speaker  of  the  
dialogue   and   hence   the   reply   turn. 434  Aphrodite’s   turn   is   interrupted   by   one  
explanatory  εἶπε  by  the  narrator  voice:  καὶ  ἔσσομαι  αἰὲν  ἀτευχής,  εἶπε,  καὶ  οἰκήσω  
τὰν  Λακεδαιμονίαν.  

After  that,  the  narrator  is  the  speaker  for  the  remainder  of  the  epigram  (ll.  5–
6:   the   last   elegiac   couplet   of   the   epigram).   The   speaker   structure   is   thus   similar   to  
no.  11:  N  –  X  –  N  –  Y  +  N.  If  we  want  to  be  strict,  the  structure  of  this  epigram  is  as  
follows:   N   –   X   (Eurotas)   –   N   –   Y   (Aphrodite)   –   N   (with   εἶπε   only)   –   Y   (the   end   of  
Aphrodite’s   turn)   –   N.   In   neither   one   of   these   epigrams   (nos.   11   and   12)   is   the  
narrator  an  inner  actor,  but  rather  s/he  reports  the  conversation  of  X  and  Y  from  the  
outside.    

The   fictive   ‘narrator   epigrams’,   similar   to   the   ones   presented   above,   are  
numerous.435  There  is  no  need  to  discuss  all  of  them,  but,  before  moving  on  to  the  
conclusions,  I  will  consider  two  examples:  436    

13.     ἡδύ,  φίλοι,  μείδημα  τὸ  Λαΐδος·∙  ἡδὺ  κατ᾽  αὖ  τῶν    
     ἠπιοδινήτων  δάκρυ  χέει  βλεφάρων.    
χθιζά  μοι  ἀπροφάσιστον  ἐπέστενεν,  ἐγκλιδὸν  ὤμῳ    
     ἡμετέρῳ  κεφαλὴν  δηρὸν  ἐρεισαμένη·∙    
μυρομένην  δ᾽  ἐφίλησα·∙  τὰ  δ᾽  ὡς  δροσερῆς  ἀπὸ  πηγῆς    
     δάκρυα  μιγνυμένων  πῖπτε  κατὰ  στομάτων.    
                                                                                                                         
434
 The  narrator  tells  how  Eurotas  told  Aphrodite  to  either  arm  herself  or  get  out  of  Sparta,  but  the  
goddess  says  no  to  both  –  she  will  stay  in  Sparta,  but  unarmed,  as  she  states  in  her  turn.  For  the  
meaning  and  obscurity  of  the  text,  see  Gow  and  Page  1965,  334.  Paton  (in  AG)  states  that  ‘there  
undoubtedly  was  an  armed  Aphrodite  at  Sparta  and  it  is  difficult  to  see  the  exact  point  of  this  
epigram’,  but  perhaps  this  discrepancy  indeed  is  its  point.  Hartigan  1979,  56  states  that  Leonidas  
points  out  that  Aphrodite  needed  no  arms,  because  she  was  able  to  disarm  Ares  without  them,  and  
that  Leonidas  is  ‘laughing  at  the  Spartan  code  of  arms’:  see  Hartigan  (this  applies,  as  Hartigan  also  
says,  if  no  text  is  missing  [see  Gow  and  Page  1965,  335  for  a  suggestion  for  the  missing  text]).  
435
 cf.  Palladas  of  Alexandria,  AP  7.686;  anonymous,  AP  9.108;  Musicius  AP  9.39;  and  Gregorius  of  
Nazianzus  8.128  for  similar  structures.  When  the  narrator  denotes  the  next  speaker,  a  verb  is  not  
needed;  in  the  epigram  of  Musicius,  the  lines  of  the  narrator  are:  Ἁ  Κύπρις  Μούσαισι  and  χαἰ  Μοῦσαι  
ποτὶ  Κύπριν,  and  in  the  epigram  of  Gregorius  of  Nazianzus:  Αἱ  Χάριτες  Μούσαισι  and  χαἰ  Μοῦσαι  
Χαρίτεσσιν.  In  these  cases  the  ‘narrator’  does  not  actually  narrate  much,  but  a  neutral  voice  is  used  to  
tell  who  speaks  and  when  the  switch  of  the  speaker  takes  place.  cf.  Gow  and  Page  1968,  165–6  and  
421,  and  Page  1981,  165–6  (the  latter  on  9.39  and  the  connection  between  these  epigrams).  
436
 13:  Paulus  Silentiarius,  AG  5.250.  14:  Macedonius  the  Consul,  AG  5.233.  

  190  
 εἶπε  δ᾽  ἀνειρομένῳ·∙    τίνος  εἵνεκα  δάκρυα  λείβεις;  
     δείδια  μή  με  λίπῃς·∙  ἐστὲ  γὰρ  ὁρκαπάται.  
 

Sweet,  my  friends,  is  Lais’  smile,  and  sweet  again  the  tears  she  sheds  from  her  gently  
waving   eyes.   Yesterday,   after   long   resting   her   head   on   my   shoulder,   she   sighed  
without   a   cause.   She   wept   as   I   kissed   her,   and   the   tears   flowing   as   from   a   cool  
fountain   fell   on   our   united   lips.   When   I   questioned   her,   ‘Why   are   you   crying?’,   she  
said,  ‘I  am  afraid  of  your  leaving  me,  for  all  you  men  are  forsworn’.    

(Translation  by  Paton)  

14.     Αὔριον  ἀθρήσω  σε.  τὸ  δ᾽  οὔ  ποτε  γίνεται  ἡμῖν,  
       ἠθάδος  ἀμβολίης  αἰὲν  ἀεξομένης.  
  ταῦτά  μοι  ἱμείροντι  χαρίζεαι·∙  ἄλλα  δ᾽  ἐς  ἄλλους  
       δῶρα  φέρεις,  ἐμέθεν  πίστιν  ἀπειπαμένη.  
  ὄψομαι  ἑσπερίη  σε.  τί  δ᾽  ἕσπερός  ἐστι  γυναικῶν;  
       γῆρας  ἀμετρήτῳ  πληθόμενον  ῥυτίδι.  
 

‘Tomorrow,   I   will   see   you.’   But   tomorrow   never   comes,   but   ever,   as   your   way   is,  
deferment  is  heaped  upon  deferment.  That  is  all  you  grant  to  me  who  love  you;  for  
others   you   have   many   gifts,   for   me   only   perfidy.   ‘I   will   see   you   in   the   evening’.   But  
what  is  the  evening  of  women?  Old  age  full  of  wrinkles.    

(Translation  according  to  Paton,  but  with  a  few  alterations)  

In  both  of  these  epigrams,  the  speakers  are  the  narrator  (who  is  the  inner-­‐self  of  the  
epigram)   +   1.   In   the   epigram   of   Paulus   Silentiarius   (no.   13),   the   narrator/inner-­‐self  
first  describes  his  beloved  Lais:  her  smile,  her  tears  and  her  eyes.  This  is  all  directed  
to   the   audience:   φίλοι   (see   l.   1).   In   lines   1–6,   the   narrator   tells   about   Lais   and  
describes  a  scene  involving  her.  It  is  only  in  lines  7–8  that  the  narrative  embeds  the  
dialogue.  At  the  beginning  of  line  7,  εἶπε  δ᾽  ἀνειρομένῳ  refers  to  both  of  the  turns  
that  follow.437  ἀνειρομένῳ  belongs  with  ‘τίνος  εἵνεκα  δάκρυα  λείβεις;’  (when  I  asked  

                                                                                                                         
437
 Compare  with  no.  9  in  Chapter  4:  εἰπέ  μοι  εἰρομένῳ,  τίνος  εἰκών;  

  191  
‘why  are  you  crying?’),  and  the  speaker  is  still  the  narrator/inner-­‐self  of  the  epigram.  
The  reply  to  this  is  not  marked  by  the  narrator,  but  it  follows  immediately  after,  as  
εἶπε   denotes.   The   speaker   Lais   is   the   lover   of   the   narrator.   The   turns   of   the   lovers  
form  an  adjacency  pair:  ‘τίνος  εἵνεκα  δάκρυα  λείβεις;’  (N)  –  ‘δείδια  μή  με  λίπῃς·∙  ἐστὲ  
γὰρ   ὁρκαπάται’   (Lais).   The   structure   of   this   epigram   is   similar   to   some   X   –   Y   –   Z  
epigrams   in   the   previous   section.   The   difference   is   that   here,   the   other   speaker   of  
the  adjacency  pair  at  the  end  of  the  epigram  is  also  the  narrator  at  the  beginning  of  
the  epigram.  Hence,  the  speaker  structure  is  N  –  N2  –  X.  

In  the  epigram  of  Macedonius  the  Consul  (no.  14),  the  narrator/  inner-­‐self  is  
once  again  conversating  with  his  lover,  in  a  manner  of  speaking.  The  narrator  does  
not  report  a  dialogue  he  had  with  his  lover  previously;  instead,  he  states  what  she  
said   in   the   past,   and   what   he   thinks   of   it   now   (in   the   present   tense).   In   his  
comments,   the   narrator   opposes   her   words,   and   particles   are   used   to   structure   this.  
Note   that   the   first   line   begins   with   a   turn   of   the   lover,   to   which   the   narrator  
comments:   ‘Αὔριον   ἀθρήσω   σε.’   τὸ   δ᾽   οὔ   ποτε   γίνεται   ἡμῖν-­‐-­‐-­‐   (...yet   tomorrow   never  
comes).   In   line   3,   the   narrator-­‐self   says   ταῦτά   μοι   ἱμείροντι   χαρίζεαι·∙   ἄλλα   δ᾽   ἐς  
ἄλλους  /  δῶρα  φέρεις-­‐-­‐-­‐,  and  here  too,  δέ  is  adversative:  the  idea  is  that  ‘for  me  this  
vs.   the   other   gifts   for   other   people’,   ταῦτά   μοι   vs.   ἄλλα   δ᾽   ἐς   ἄλλους.   The   same  
happens  again  in  the  last  ‘pair’  which  comprises  the  woman’s  line  first  and  then  the  
man’s   opposing   words,   introduced   by   δέ:   ‘ὄψομαι   ἑσπερίη   σε.’   τί   δ᾽   ἕσπερός   ἐστι  
γυναικῶν;438  In   this   epigram,   the   structure   is   X   –   N   –   X   –   N.   The   narrator   does   not  
present  any  past  speech  of  his  own,  but  only  comments  (in  the  present  tense)  on  the  
earlier  speech  of  his  lover  (X).  

5.3.  Two  narrative  extras  

As  the  type-­‐3  epigrams  show,  there  can  be  communicative  elements  in  poems  that  
are   not   necessarily   strictly   dialogical.   Furthermore,   many   of   these   narrative   poems  
are  so  lengthy  that  even  if  we  interpret  ‘epigram’  in  a  broad  sense  of  the  word,  we  
could  perhaps  ask  whether  or  not  it  is  reasonable  to  call  these  examples  epigrams.  In  

                                                                                                                         
438
 cf.  Arist.  Poet.  1457b23  (Mackail  1906,  394).  

  192  
the  original  meaning  of  the  word,  they  are  of  course  epigrams,  but  a  very  different  
kind  of  epigram  than  most  of  the  rather  coherent  type-­‐1  and  type-­‐2  epigrams.  

  To   conclude   this   chapter,   I   want   to   discuss   two   more   metric   texts   that  
contain   communicative   elements,   whether   or   not   they   belong   under   the   title  
‘dialogue  epigrams’.  One  is  a  verse  inscription,  the  other  a  dithyramb.  I  do  not  aim  to  
compare   them   with   each   other   so   much   as   to   compare   them   with   the   epigrams  
presented   in   this   study   and   to   briefly   discuss   some   of   the   similarities   of   their  
structure  to  that  of  the  dialogue  epigrams.    

  The  verse  inscription  comes  from  Halicarnassus:439  

           1     Ἔννεπέ  μοι,  Σχοινῖτι,  φίλον  τιθάσε[υμα  φέρουσα]  

       Κύπρι,  μυροπνεύστων  ἐμπελάτειρα  πο[...],  
τῆς  Ἁλικαρνασσοῦ  τί  τὸ  τίμιον;  οὐ  γὰρ  ἔγωγε  
       ἔκλυον  ἢ  τί  θροεῖ  γαῦρα  φρυασσομένη;  
         5     Γηγενέων  μεγάλαυχον  ἐτέκνωσε  στάχυν  ἀνδρ[ῶν]  
       Ἀκραίου  πάρεδρον  κυδαλίμοιο  Διός,  
οἳ  πρῶτοι  κοίλην  ὑπὸ  δειράδα  θέντο  νεογνὸν  
       παῖδα  ῾Ρέης  κρύφιον  Ζῆν᾽  ἀτιταλλόμενοι  
Γαίης  ἀμφ᾽  ἀδύτοισιν,  ὅτε  Κρόνος  ἀγκυλομήτης  
       10         οὐκ  ἔφτη  λαίμωι  θέσθαι  ὑποβρύχιον.  
Ζεὺς  δὲ  πατὴρ  Γῆς  υἷας  ἀγακλέας  ὀργειῶνας  
       θῆκεν,  οἳ  ἀρρήτων  πρόσπολοί  εἰσι  δόμων.  
οὐδ᾽  ἄχαριν  μόχθοιο  παραὶ  Διὸς  ἔ[σ]χον  ἀμοιβήν  
       ἔργων  ἀντ᾽  ἀγαθῶν  ἐσθλὰ  κομιζόμενοι.  
       15     τόν  τ᾽  ἐρατὸν  μακάρεσσιν  ἀειδόμενον  παρὰ  χεῦμα  
       Σαλμάκιδος  γλυκερὸν  νασσαμένη  σκόπελον  
νύμφης  ἱμερτὸν  κατέχει  δόμον,  ἣ  ποτὲ  κοῦρον  
       ἡμέτερον  τερπναῖς  δεξαμένη  παλάμαις  
Ἑρμαφρόδιτον  θρέψε  πανέξοχον,  ὃς  γάμον  εὗρεν  
                                                                                                                         
439 nd    
 SGO  1,  01/12/02,  2 century  CE  (mid-­‐century  or  the  latter  half),  Halicarnassus  (Salmakis).

  193  
        20        ἀνδράσι  καὶ  λέχεα  πρῶτος  ἔδησε  νόμωι·∙  
αὐτή  τε  σταγόνων  ἱεροῖς  ὑπὸ  νάμασιν  ἄντρου  
       πρηύνει  φώτων  ἀγριοέντα  νόον  
Πάλλας  τε  πτερόεντος  ἐπηέριον  δαματῆρα  
       Πηγάσου  οἰκίστην  ἐσθλὸν  ἐπηγάγετο  
       25     ἔνθ᾽  ὅτε  δὴ  στείψασα  μετ᾽  ἴχνεσι  Βελλεροφόντεως  
       Πηδασίδος  γαίης  τέρμονας  ἱδρύεται·∙  
ναὶ  μὴν  καὶ  Κραναοῖο  μέγα  σθένος  ἔκτισ᾽  ἀρίστους  
       Κεκροπίδας  ἱερῆς  ἐν  χθονὶ  Σαλμακίδος.  
Ἐνδυμίων  τ᾽  αἰχμῆι  βασιληίδι  κύδιμος  ἥρως  
       30                λέκτους  ἐκ  γαίης    Ἄπιδος  ἠγάγετο  
[  Ἄνθης  τ᾽  ἐκ  Τροιζῆνος  ἰὼν  Ποσιδ]ώνιος  υἱός  
        ———ἤρο]σεν  Ἀνθεάδας  
        ———]νθυος  ἶσα  κορυσθείς  
———]ων  ἔθετο  
     35           ———]Φοιβήσιος  ἶνις  
                          ———νε]οκτισίην  
            ———ἀπὸ  χ]θονὸς  ἦγ᾽  Ἀριάδνην  
———]  παῖδ᾽  ἔλιπεν  
          ———ἐνιρρί]ζωσεν  ἄποικον  
   40                                                        ———ἀτιτ]αλλόμενος  
        ———κ]αὶ  σταφάνην  χερὶ  Δωρικὸν  αὐτήν  
———]ει  [———]ζει  Φοίβου  ἐφημοσύναις·∙  
  Ἡρόδοτον  τὸν  πεζὸν  ἐν  ἱστορίαισιν    Ὅμηρον  
       ἤροσεν,    Ἄνδρωνος  θρέψε  κλυτὴν  δύναμιν,  
     45     ἔσπειρεν  Πανύασσιν  ἐτῶν  ἀρισήμον᾽  ἄνακτα,  
       Ἰλιακῶν  Κυπρίαν  τίκτεν  ἀοιδοθέτην,  
  ἠδὲ  τὸν  ἐμ  Μουσαῖσι  Μενεσθέα  κεδνὸν  ἀνῆκεν  
       ἠδὲ  Θεαιτήτου  πνεῦμ᾽  ἐλοχευσ᾽  ἱερόν,  
  κωμικὸν  ὑμνοθέτην  Διονύσιον  υἷα  τεκνοῦται,  
     50        Ζηνόδοτον  τραγικῶν  ἴδριν  ἔτευξ᾽  ἐπέων  
  δμῶα  Διονύσου  Φανόστρατον  ἔσχεν  ἀοιδόν  

  194  
        Κεκροπιδῶν  ἱεροῖς  ἁβρὸν  ἐνὶ  στεφάνοις,  
  Νόσσον  ἐν  ἱστορίαισι  χρόνων  σημάντορα  τεῦξεν,  
       Τιμοκράτην  πινυτὸν  γείνατ᾽  ἀοιδοθέτην·∙  
     55   ἄλλους  τ᾽  ἐξ  ἐσθλῶν  ἐσθλοὺς  τ[έ]κε  μυρίος  αἰών·∙  
       οὐ  τελέσει  δόξης  πείρατα  πάντ᾽  ἐνέπειν,  
  πολλὰ  μὲν  ἐν  χέρσωι  κάμεν  ἀγλαά,  πολλὰ  δὲ  πόντωι  
       ἐσθλὰ  σὺν    Ἑλλήνων  ἡγεμόσιν  φέρεται·∙  
  εὐσεβέων  πάντιμον  ἔχει  γέρας,  ἔν  τ᾽  ἀγαθοῖσιν  
     60        ἔργοις  κυδίστων  ἀντέχεται  στεφάνων.  
 
column  I  

Tell  me,  Schoinítis,  you  [provider  of]  cherished  balm,  

Kypris,  who  brings  near  the  myrrh-­‐breathing  [-­‐  -­‐  -­‐  -­‐  -­‐]  
What  is  so  honourable  about  Halikarnassos?  I  for  my  part  
never  heard  of  it.  What  is  she  proudly  boasting  of?  
5     She  brought  forth  a  grand  crop  of  Earth-­‐born  men,  
assistants  of  mighty  Zeus  of  the  Height.  
It  was  they  who  first  under  a  hollowed  crest  placed  Zeus,  newborn,  
the  son  of  Rhea,  so  that  he  was  hidden,  and  who  fostered  him  
in  the  innermost  recesses  of  Earth,  when  Kronos,  crooked  of  counsel,  
10    was  too  late  to  place  him  far  down  in  his  throat.  
Father  Zeus  made  the  sons  of  Earth  famous  ritual  attendants  
who  guard  the  secret  dwelling  
Nor  was  the  reward  they  got  in  return  for  their  toil  one  of  ingratitude:  
They  received  good  things  for  their  good  deeds:  
15    Having  settled  the  lovely  promontory  sung  of  as  dear  to  the  immortals  
by  the  sweet  stream  of  Salmakis,  she  (Halikarnassos)  controls  
the  beautiful  dwelling  of  the  nymph  who  once  received  
our  boy,  Hermaphroditos,  in  her  kindly  arms  
and  bred  him  to  become  an  extraordinary  man,  who  invented  matrimony  
20     for  mankind  and  was  the  first  to  fasten  the  matrimonial  bed  by  law.  
She  in  her  turn  under  the  sacred  streams  dripping  in  
the  cave  tempers  the  savage  minds  of  men.  
And  Pallas  brought  hither  riding  through  the  air  the  tamer  
of  the  winged  Pegasos,  a  good  colonizer,  
25    where  she,  treading  the  footsteps  of  Bellerophontes,  
places  the  boundaries  of  the  land  of  Pedasa.  

  195  
 Indeed  the  mighty  force  of  Kranaos  also  installed  the  best  among  the  
Kekropidai,  in  the  ground  of  holy  Salmakis.  
The  valiant  hero,  Endymion  with  his  regal  spear  
30    led  chosen  men  from  Apis’  land.  
 
column  II  
 
Posid]on’s  son,  
the  Antheadai  
equipped  like  [Rhadamanthys  
put  
35     son  of  Phoibos  
foundation  
led  Ariadne  from  the  land  of  .  .  .  
left  a  child  
away  from  home  
40    -­‐  -­‐  -­‐  -­‐  -­‐  
-­‐  with  the  hand  -­‐  -­‐  Doric  -­‐  
-­‐  -­‐  on  Phoibos’  command  
she  sowed  Herodotos,  the  Homer  of  history  in  prose,  
reared  the  famous  art  of  Andron,  
45     made  Panyassis  shoot  forth  to  command  the  epic  so  outstandingly  
and  gave  birth  to  Kyprias  who  composed  the  Iliaka.  
She  also  brought  forth  Menestheus  loved  by  the  Muses  
and  delivered  the  divine  inspiration  of  Theaitetos.  
The  writer  of  comedy  Dionysios  she  bears  as  her  son  
50     and  she  produced  Zenodotos,  the  expert  writer  of  tragedies.  
She  had  the  singer  Phanostratos,  the  servant  of  Dionysos,  
gleaming  in  the  sacred  crowns  of  the  Kekropidai.  
And  she  produced  Nossos,  a  leading  chronologist  in  history.  
She  made  Timokrates  a  wise  poet  
55     and  bore  other  good  men  to  succeed  the  good;  the  unending  future  
will  never  finish  enumerating  all  the  proofs  of  her  fame:  
Many  glorious  things  she  achieved  on  land  
and  she  carries  off  many  good  things  at  sea  with  the  leaders  of  the  Hellenes.  
Halikarnassos  has  had  an  all-­‐honourable  gift  in  reward  for  her  pious  acts,  and  
60     when  it  comes  to  goodly  deeds  she  lays  claim  to  the  most  honoured  crowns.  
(Translation  by  Isager440)  

                                                                                                                         
440
 Isager  1998,  8–9.  For  another  translation,  see  Lloyd-­‐Jones  1999,  2–3.  For  detailed  analyses,  see  
both.  

  196  
  

This   long   text   unit   starts   with   a   question   turn   (ll.   1–4).   The   metre   is   elegiac,   as   in  
most   epigrams.   The   question   turn   starts   with   an   address:   Ἔννεπέ   μοι,   Σχοινῖτι,   Tell  
me,  Schoinítis,  which  has  a  familiar  epic  tone.441  The  first  question  of  the  turn  follows  
the   imperative   +   address   +   interrogative   formula,   but   the   following   one   is   formed  
with   an   interrogative.   They   both   ask   the   same   thing,   namely   what   is   great   about  
Halicarnassus.  Between  these  questions,  the  passerby  says  that  s/he  has  never  heard  
of   it   (ll.   3–4):   τῆς   Ἁλικαρνάσσου   τί   τὸ   τίμιον;   οὐ   γὰρ   ἔγωγε   /   ἔκλυον·∙   ἦ,   τί   θροεῖ  
γαῦρα   φρυασσομένη;   What   is   so   honourable   about   Halikarnassos?   I   for   my   part   /  
never  heard  of  it.  What  is  she  proudly  boasting  of?442  

The  answer  to  this  begins  in  line  5  and  continues  until  the  end  of  the  epigram  
(l.   60).   The   point   of   this   narrative   text   is   to   tell   why   the   Halicarnassians   are   proud   of  
their   city.   At   the   end   of   the   inscription,   lines   55–60,   there   is   a   summary   of   the  
reasons.443  This   verse   inscription   is   thus   very   different   from   the   early   monumental  
epigrams   and,   interestingly,   there   are   several   reminiscences   of   Hellenistic   (fictive)  
epigrams   and   other   texts.444  In   the   question   turn,   the   elements   are   familiar   from  
dialogue  epigrams,  but  the  answer  turn  is  descriptive  and  narrative,  and  it  travels  far  
from  the  adjacency  pair  structure.  The  question  is  addressed  to  Aphrodite,  who  may  
have  been  depicted  by  a  statue  (and  perhaps  had  a  temple)  close  to  the  wall  where  
the   text   was   incised,   but   the   text   is   not,   for   example,   ecphrastic   –   it   does   not  
describe   the   statue,   but   rather   the   city.   Note   that,   as   Lloyd-­‐Jones   also   points   out,  
one  of  the  first  dialogue  epigrams  comes  from  Halicarnassus,  and  whether  or  not  the  
writer  of  this  epigram,  several  hundred  years  later,  was  aware  of  this  or  not,  the  link  
is  fascinating.445  

The   second   example   comes   from   a   different   text   type   –   it   is   a   dithyramb   (no.  
18)   by   Bacchylides.   It   is   an   interesting   ‘combination’   of   drama   and   epigram.   In  
addition  to  the  inner  development  of  the  epigram  genre,  it  certainly  contains  some  
                                                                                                                         
441
 cf.  no.  25  in  Chapter  3  and  no.  4  in  Chapter  4.  
442
 The  beginning  of  the  text  is  fragmentary,  but  the  first  lines  with  the  address  and  the  imperative  
must  belong  with  the  first  question:  What  is  so  honourable  about  Halikarnassos?  
443
 Isager  1998,  11,  also  with  more  detailed  analysis  of  the  narrative  (ll.  5–54).  
444
 cf.  the  analyses  of  both  Lloyd-­‐Jones  and  Isager.  For  another  translation,  see  also  Lloyd-­‐Jones.  
445
 Lloyd-­‐Jones  1999,  3.  

  197  
influences   from   other   literary   genres.   Drama,   lyric   and   elegy   have   influenced   both  
the   structures   of   the   epigrams   and   their   performance   tradition.446  In   the   following  
dithyramb,   both   drama   and   communication   structures   familiar   from   epigrams   are  
presented:  

Χορός  
βασιλεῦ  τᾶν  ἱερᾶν  Ἀθανᾶν,  
τῶν  ἁβροβίων  ἄναξ    Ἰώνων,  
τί  νέον  ἔκλαγε  χαλκοκώδων  
σάλπιγξ  πολεμηΐαν  ἀοιδάν;  
             5     ἦ  τις  ἁμετέρας  χθονὸς  
δυσμενὴς  ὅρι᾽  ἀμφιβάλλει  
στραταγέτας  ἀνήρ;  
ἢ  λῃσταὶ  κακομάχανοι  
ποιμένων  ἀέκατι  μήλων  
         10       σεύοντ᾽  ἀγέλας  βίᾳ;  
ἢ  τί  τοι  κραδίαν  ἀμύσσει;  
φθέγγευ·∙  δοκέω  γὰρ  εἴ  τινι  βροτῶν  
ἀλκίμων  ἐπικουρίαν  
καὶ  τὶν  ἔμμεναι  νέων,  
         15   ὦ  Πανδίονος  υἱὲ  καὶ  Κρεούσας.  
 
Αἰγεύς  
νέ]ον  ἦλθεν  δολιχὰν  ἀμείψας  
κᾶρυξ  ποσὶν  Ἰσθμίαν  κέλευθον·∙  
ἄφατα  δ᾽  ἔργα  λέγει  κραταιοῦ  
φωτός·∙  τὸν  ὑπέρβιόν  τ᾽  ἔπεφνεν  
         20   Σίνιν,  ὃς  ἰσχύϊ  φέρτατος  
θνατῶν  ἦν,  Κρονίδα  Λυταίου  
σεισίχθονος  τέκος·∙  
                                                                                                                         
446
 There  is  a  fictive  dialogue  epigram  by  Dioscorides  commenting  on  theatre,  AG  7.37  =  Gow  and  
Page  22,  and  Fantuzzi  2007,  488–9.  Drama  in  general  is  discussed  and  referred  to  in  non-­‐inscribed  
epigrams;  cf.  Fantuzzi,  ibid.  

  198  
 σῦν  τ᾽  ἀνδροκτόνον  ἐν  νάπαις  
Κρεμμυῶνος,  ἀτάσθαλόν  τε  
         25   Σκίρωνα  κατέκτανεν·∙  
τάν  τε  Κερκυόνος  παλαίστραν  
ἔσχεν,  Πολυπήμονός  τε  καρτερὰν  
σφῦραν  ἐξέβαλεν  Προκό-­‐  
πτας,  ἀρείονος  τυχὼν  
         30   φωτός.  ταῦτα  δέδοιχ᾽  ὅπᾳ  τελεῖται.  
  τίνα  δ᾽  ἔμμεν  πόθεν  ἄνδρα  τοῦτον  
  λέγει,  τίνα  τε  στολὰν  ἔχοντα;    
πότερα  σὺν  πολεμηΐοις  ὅ-­‐  
πλοισι  στρατιὰν  ἄγοντα  πολλάν;  
         35     ἢ  μοῦνον  σὺν  ὀπάοσιν  
στεῖχεν  ἔμπορον  οἷ᾽  ἀλάταν  
ἐπ᾽  ἀλλοδαμίαν,  
ἰσχυρόν  τε  καὶ  ἄλκιμον  
ὧδε  καὶ  θρασύν,  ὅς  τε  τούτων  
         40   ἀνδρῶν  κρατερὸν  σθένος  
ἔσχεν;  ἦ  θεὸς  αὐτὸν  ὁρμᾷ,  
δίκας  ἀδίκοισιν  ὄφρα  μήσεται·∙  
οὐ  γὰρ  ῥᾴδιον  αἰὲν  ἔρ-­‐  
δοντα  μὴ  'ντυχεῖν  κακῷ.  
         45   πάντ᾽  ἐν  τῷ  δολιχῷ  χρόνῳ  τελεῖται.  
 
Αἰγεύς  
δύο  ϝοι  φῶτε  μόνους  ἁμαρτεῖν  
λέγει,  περὶ  φαιδίμοισι  δ᾽  ὤμοις  
ξίφος  ἔχειν  ἐλεφαντόκωπον·∙  
ξεστοὺς  δὲ  δύ᾽  ἐν  χέρεσσ᾽  ἄκοντας    
           50     κηὔτυκτον  κυνέαν  Λάκαι-­‐  
ναν  κρατὸς  πέρι  πυρσοχαίτου·∙  
στέρνοις  τε  πορφύρεον  

  199  
 χιτῶν᾽  ἄμφι,  καὶ  οὔλιον  
Θεσσαλὰν  χλαμύδ᾽·∙  ὀμμάτων  δὲ  
         55   στίλβειν  ἄπο  Λαμνίαν  
φοίνισσαν  φλόγα·∙  παῖδα  δ᾽  ἔμμεν  
πρώθηβον,  ἀρηΐων  δ᾽  ἀθυρμάτων  
μεμνᾶσθαι  πολέμου  τε  καὶ  
χαλκεοκτύπου  μάχας·∙  
         60   δίζησθαι  δὲ  φιλαγλάους  Ἀθάνας.  
   

[Chorus:]  

King   of   sacred   Athens,   lord   of   the   luxuriously-­‐living   Ionians,   why   has   the   bronze-­‐
belled  trumpet  just  now  sounded  a  war  song?  

[5]   Does   some   enemy   of   our   land   beset   our   borders,   leading   an   army?   Or   are   evil-­‐
plotting  robbers,  against  the  will  of  the  shepherds,  [10]  rustling  our  flocks  of  sheep  by  
force?  What  is  it  that  tears  your  heart?  Speak;  for  I  think  that  you  of  all  mortals  have  
the  aid  of  valiant  young  men  at  your  disposal,  [15]  son  of  Pandion  and  Creusa.  

[Aegeus:]  

Just  now  a  herald  arrived,  having  come  by  foot  on  the  long  road  from  the  Isthmus.  He  
tells  of  the    indescribable  deeds  of  a  mighty  man.  That  man  killed  overweening  

[20]  Sinis,  who  was  the  greatest  of  mortals  in  strength;  he  is  the  son  of  Lytaeus  the  
Earthshaker,   son   of   Cronus.   And   he   has   slain   the   man-­‐killing   boar   in   the   valleys   of  
Cremmyon,  and  reckless  [25]  Sciron.  He  has  closed  the  wrestling  school  of  Cercyon;  
Procoptes  has  met  a  better  man  and  dropped  the  powerful  hammer  of  Polypemon.  
[30]  I  fear  how  this  will  end.  

[Chorus:]  
Who   is   the   man   said   to   be,   and   from   where?   How   is   he   equipped?   Is   he   leading   a  
great  army  with  weapons  of  war?    

[35]   Or   does   he   come   alone   with   only   his   attendants,   like   a   traveller   wandering  
among   foreign   people,   this   man   who   is   so   strong,   valiant,   and   bold,   who   has  

  200  
overcome  the  powerful  strength  [40]  of  such  great  men?  Indeed  a  god  impels  him,  so  
that   he   can   bring   justice   down   on   the   unjust;   for   it   is   not   easy   to   accomplish   deed  
after  deed  and  not  meet  with  evil.  [45]  In  the  long  course  of  time  all  things  come  to  
an  end.  

[Aegeus:]  
The  herald  says  that  only  two  men  accompany  him,  and  that  he  has  a  sword  slung  
over  his  bright  shoulders    

...  and  two  polished  javelins  in  his  hands,  [50]  and  a  well-­‐made  Laconian  hat  on  his  
head  with  its  fire-­‐red  hair.  A  purple  tunic  covers  his  chest,  and  a  woolen  Thessalian  
cloak.  [55]  Bright  red  Lemnian  fire  flashes  from  his  eyes.  He  is  a  boy  in  the  prime  of  
youth,  intent  on  the  playthings  of  Ares:  war  and  battles  of  clashing  bronze.  [60]  He  is  
on  his  way  to  splendor-­‐loving  Athens.  

 (Translation  by  Arnson  Svarlien)    

The  speakers  are  the  Chorus  (representing  citizens  of  Athens)  and  Aigeus.  The  role  of  
Aigeus  was  probably  read  by  the  Chorus  leader,  to  whom  the  Chorus  answers.  Taplin  
notices  the  influence  of  tragedy  on  choral  song,  which  tended  to  be  more  traditional,  
in   this   composition.447  What   I   find   of   special   interest   here   is   the   role   division   of  
Aigeus  and  the  Chorus.  The  Chorus  is  similar  to  the  passerby  of  verse  inscriptions;  it  
is  like  an  ignorant  asker:  it  asks  questions,  wants  information  and  motivates  Aigeus  
to   tell   information   to   the   audience.   The   role   of   Aigeus   is   not   only   communicative,  
but   also   narrative.   The   dithyramb   begins   with   a   question   turn   presented   by   the  
Chorus.   The   first   question   goes   as   follows   (ll.   1–4):   βασιλεῦ   τᾶν   ἱερᾶν   Ἀθανᾶν,   /   τῶν  
ἁβροβίων   ἄναξ   Ἰώνων,   /   τί   νέον   ἔκλαγε   χαλκοκώδων   /σάλπιγξ   πολεμηΐαν   ἀοιδάν;  
King   of   sacred   Athens,   lord   of   the   luxuriously-­‐living   Ionians,   why   has   the   bronze-­‐
belled   trumpet   just   now   sounded   a   war   song?   Three   other   questions   follow,   and  
after  them,  the  Chorus  exhorts  Aigeus  to  speak,  using  the  imperative  φθέγγευ  (l.  11),  
Speak.  After  this  follows  the  explanatory  for  I  think  that  you  of  all  mortals  have  the  
aid  of  valiant  young  men  at  your  disposal,  son  of  Pandion  and  Creusa.  In  lines  20–30,  
Aigeus   describes   a   man   about   whom   the   herald   has   spoken,   a   mighty   man   who  
performed  valiant  deeds.  This  section  resembles  honorary  inscriptions.  
                                                                                                                         
447
 Kurke  2000,  81–2.    

  201  
 Another   series   of   questions   begins   in   line   31,   again   presented   by   the   Chorus:  
τίνα  δ᾽  ἔμμεν  πόθεν  ἄνδρα  τοῦτον  /  λέγει,  τίνα  τε  στολὰν  ἔχοντα;  Who  is  the  man  
said   to   be,   and   from   where?   How   is   he   equipped?   Here,   the   particle   δ᾽   links   this   turn  
to  the  previous  dialogue  between  the  Chorus  and  Aigeus  (the  man  about  whom  the  
Chorus   asks   has   been   talked   about   before).   More   questions   follow,   but   in   this  
question  turn  (within  one  question),  the  Chorus  also  describes  the  man  (from  l.  35  
onwards):  ἢ  μοῦνον  σὺν  ὀπ.άοσιν  /  στείχειν  ἔμπορον  οἷ᾽  ἀλάταν  /ἐπ᾽  ἀλλοδαμίαν,  /  
ἰσχυρόν   τε   καὶ   ἄλκιμον   /ὧδε   καὶ   θρασύν,   ὅς   τε   τούτων   /ἀνδρῶν   κρατερὸν   σθένος  
ἔσχεν;   Or   does   he   come   alone   with   only   his   attendants,   like   a   traveller   wandering  
among   foreign   people,   this   man   who   is   so   strong,   valiant,   and   bold,   who   has  
overcome  the  powerful  strength  of  such  great  men?  In  the  reply  turn,  the  habitus  of  
the  man  is  described.  The  question–answer  structure  resembles  the  old  monument  
texts,   for   example   the   grave   epigrams,   but   the   text   is   thematically   close   to   both  
honorary   and   ecphrastic   epigrams   (the   latter   reply   of   Aigeus),   even   though   it  
describe  a  man  and  not  a  statue.  

  These  two  examples  show  influence  within  and  between  the  literary  genres.  
In   the   Halicarnassus   epigram   there   are   some   elements   of   hymns,   as   there   were   in  
the  examples  of  Section  5.1.  In  addition  to  that,  drama  and  oratory  figure  here  –  the  
traces   of   oral   communication   can   be   detected.   Communicative   and   narrative  
structures   intertwine,   creating   a   variety   of   expressions,   some   of   which   are   similar  
with  type-­‐3  epigrams,  but  often  rather  far  from  the  other  two  types.  

5.4  Conclusion  

In  type-­‐3  epigrams,  one  can  see  how  the  dialogue  form  in  verse  inscriptions,  which  
was  initially  an  informative  pattern  (roughly  speaking)  used  for  mediating  facts  in  the  
monuments,   has   been   applied   to   a   narrative   and   more   ‘literary’   use.   This   quite  
heterogeneous  group  of  epigrams  has  in  common  a  certain  descriptiveness;  they  tell  
stories  more  than  they  capture  communication.  Some  elements  of  language  are  still  
similar   to   type-­‐1   and   type-­‐2   epigrams,   but   the   communicative   elements   are   mixed  
with   the   narrative,   or   are   embedded   in   narration.   Some   type-­‐3   X   –   Y   variants,  

  202  
especially   those   with   two   speakers,   bear   resemblances   to   the   epigrams   with   clear  
adjacency  pair  structures,  but  also  show  differences;  for  example  the  text  units  may  
be  a  few  stanzas  long,  and  the  direction  of  the  speech  is  not  always  a  -­‐˃  b  -­‐˃  a.  In  
addition  to  X  –  Y  variants,  there  are  epigrams  with  three  speakers,  either  X  –  Y  –  Z  
(for  example  the  monument,  the  deceased  and  the  relative)  or  X  –  Y  –  N,  where  N  
refers   to   the   narrator.   In   such   an   epigram,   the   narrator   is   a   neutral   character   who  
reports   the   course   of   events.   The   narrator   can   be   the   first   speaker,   after   which   an  
adjacency  pair  or  a  dialogue  consisting  of,  for  example,  two  stanzas  follows  (N  –  X  –  
Y).  Another  option  is  that  the  narrator  cuts  in  between  the  two  turns  of  the  dialogue:  
X  –  N  –  Y.  The  narrator  can  also  mark  the  speakers  of  the  dialogue,  especially  in  the  
latter  case  (‘then  spoke  NN’).
  The  communicative  turns  can  also  be  parts  of  a  narration.  I  call  these  cases  
‘embedded   dialogues’.   In   the   epigrams   with   embedded   dialogues,   the   central  
reporter  is  always  the  narrator,  and,  in  addition,  there  are  +  1  or  +  2  speakers.  In  the  
first   option,   the   narrator   also   has   a   turn   in   the   dialogue   s/he   describes   in   the  
epigram,   for   example   N   –   X   –   N   –   N2,   but   the   order   of   the   speakers   varies.   Such  
dialogues  are  composed  in  the  past  tense,  as  part  of  a  narration.  The  same  applies  to  
N   +   2   epigrams,   in   which   the   narrator   describes   a   dialogue   in   which   s/he   does   not  
partake,  i.e.  a  dialogue  of  X  and  Y:  N  –  X  –  N  –  Y.  Again,  however,  the  order  of  the  
turns  may  vary,  and  there  can  be  a  fifth  turn  as  well  (which  would  be  the  turn  of  the  
narrator).   The   embedded   dialogues   are   more   common   in   non-­‐inscribed   epigrams  
than  in  the  verse  inscriptions.  

  Type-­‐3   epigrams   show   the   development   from   the   communicative   towards  

the   narrative;   or   more   precisely,   the   communicative   elements   and   patterns   of   the  
dialogue   form   (especially   the   question   structures)   are   applied   in   the   narratives.  
When  the  narrator  notes  the  change  of  speaker  and  identifies  them,  these  features  
do   not   necessarily   need   to   be   visible   in   the   dialogue   section   (e.g.   in   addresses).   This,  
however,  does  not  mean  that  they  cannot  be  —  type-­‐1  and  type-­‐2  linguistic  features  
such   as   addresses,   imperatives   and   certain   ways   of   using   particles   do   occur.   As  
regards   particles,   δέ   is   common   in   type-­‐3   also;   here   it   is   used,   for   example,   in   the  
turns  of  the  narrator  when  the  narrator  introduces  the  next  speaker  (cf.  introducing  

  203  
a   new   question   in   type   1   and   type   2).   The   role   of   the   narrator   has   been   discussed   in  
this  chapter,  but  it  is  noteworthy  that  the  relative  is  perhaps  the  most  focal  speaker  
role  in  type  3:  it  figures  in  seven  type-­‐3  verse  inscriptions.448    

The   last   two   texts   discussed   in   this   chapter   are   long   text   units   that   could  
largely   be   described   or   defined   as   narrative,   but   they   do   still   include   communication  
and   elements   of   language   that   we   know   from   the   adjacency   pairs.   This   of   course  
does   not   mean   that   all   the   communication   in   literature   derives   from   the   dialogue  
verse   inscriptions,   but   rather   that   when   epigrams   (and   other   genres)   do   have  
communicative  elements,  the  patterns  used  in  the  adjacency  pairs  are  often  similar  
to   the   ones   used   in   the   dialogue   epigrams,   and   mutual   influence   is   likely.   Type-­‐3  
verse  inscriptions  indicate  literary  influence  of  e.g.  hymns,  drama,  and  non-­‐inscribed  
epigram.  

Table  8:  Type-­‐3  epigrams  in  verse  inscriptions  

X  –  Y  variations/   Bernand,  Inscr.Métr.  33  =  GVI  1873  =  GG  437  =  SEG  50,  1600   no.  1  
X  –  Y  –  Z =  SEG  60,  1122        
GVI  1874  =  SGO  1,  01/01/07  =  GG  438   no.  2  
Bernand,  Insc.  Métr.  46    =  GVI  1875  =  GG  439    =  SEG  60,   no.  3  
1930  &  2022    
IG  X  2,1,  368   no.  4  
SGO  3,  16/31/93D  =  SEG  6,  140   no.  5  
IK  Heraclea  Pont.  9    =  SGO  2,  09/11/02  =  SEG  31,  1072   no.  6  
SGO  1,  06/02/32=  SEG  50,  1762,  SEG  53,  2191,  SEG  60,  1930  
SGO  2,  08/01/51  =  SEG  60,  1999  
SGO  4,  17/06/02  =  SEG  44,  1833  =  SEG  52,  1918  
Embedded   SGO  3,  14/04/03  =  SEG  52,  1918  =  SEG  58,  1885   no.  7  
Bernand,  Inscr.Métr.  27  =  GVI  1887   no.  8  
SGO  3,  14/12/01  =  SEG  6,  488  (fragmentary)  
 

                                                                                                                         
448
 See  nos.  1,  2,  3,  5  and  7  and  also  SGO  1,  06/02/32  and  SGO  4,  17/06/02.  

  204  
6.  GENERAL  CONCLUSIONS  

This  study  discusses  the  language  of  dialogue  epigrams.  Questions  such  as  how  the  
speakers   are   marked   and   identified,   how   the   change   of   speaker   is   denoted,   what  
kind   of   turns   the   epigrams   contain,   and   how   the   turns   are   connected/separated  
were  the  starting  point  of  the  study.    

In  the  typology  I  have  created,  the  dialogue  epigrams  are  divided  into  three  
different   types   on   the   basis   of   their   communication   structures.   The   foundation   of  
this   division   is   the   adjacency-­‐pair   structure.   Dialogue   epigrams   vary   from   succinct  
and   informative   one-­‐pair   epigrams   to   descriptive   narrations   that   consist   of   several  
stanzas.  Length  does  not  necessarily  define  the  epigram’s  type,  but  type-­‐3  epigrams  
tend  to  be  longer  than  the  other  types  that  are  clearly  based  on  adjacency  pairs.  The  
examples  show  that  the  question–answer  pair  is  the  most  prominent  adjacency  pair,  
but   greeting   pairs   are   also   frequent   and   some   statement–response   pairs   occur.   A  
wish  turn  or  a  wish  pair  (wishing  either  the  deceased  or  the  passerby  well)  at  the  end  
of   the   epigram   is   especially   common,   but   there   are   also   some   opening   turns   that  
initiate  the  pair  structure  that  follows.  

There  is  also  variation  within  each  type.  The  epigrams  are  analysed  both  on  
the  level  of  pairs  and  on  the  level  of  turns.  On  the  level  of  pairs,  the  variants  of  each  
type  are  analysed  and  discussed  with  examples.  The  chronologically  first  and  also  the  
most  common  of  the  types  is  type  1  (X  –  Y),  and  epigrams  in  this  category  can  vary  
from   a   mere   greeting   pair   or   simple   question–answer   pair   to   epigrams   with   a  
meandering   response   turn   or   three-­‐turn   unities.   Type-­‐2   epigrams   (X   –Y   n)   offer  
similar   combinations   for   multi-­‐paired   epigrams   and   type-­‐3   epigrams   contain   either  
two-­‐   or   three-­‐speaker   stanzas   (X   –   Y   –   Z/N)   or   embedded   dialogues   in   a   narration.  
The  structure  of  type-­‐3  epigrams  thus  differs  from  the  other  two,  but  some  elements  
familiar  from  the  adjacency  pairs  can  be  detected.  The  examples  show  that  certain  
linguistic  patterns  are  repeated  and  adapted  in  all  types.  

With   regard   to   turns   and   (especially)   pairs,   features   such   as   question  

structures,  addresses,  imperatives,  repetition  (of  a  word,  a  phrase  or  a  part  of  it)  and  
particles   are   central.   These   are   the   main   elements   of   which   communication   is  

  205  
comprised   the   dialogue   verse   inscriptions.   As   analysed   in   the   typology   chapters,  
these  features  are  used  to  denote  the  turns,  to  introduce  a  new  turn,  to  tie  the  turns  
or   adjacency   pairs   together,   to   imply   the   speaker   and   the   change   of   speaker,   and  
also  to  separate  the  semantic  segments  from  one  other.  

As  question–answer  pairs  are  the  most  common  units  of  dialogue  epigrams,  
the   interrogatives   are   frequent   (in   question-­‐word   questions),   and   they   can   be  
accompanied  by  addresses  and  interrogatives.  Addresses  also  function  as  identifiers  
of   the   speakers   (and   can   occur   either   in   the   opening   turn   or   later).   Imperatives,  
when  addressed  to  a  passerby,  ask  him/her  to  stop,  read  or  listen,  and  sometimes  to  
utter   the   rites   –   they   are   all   connected   to   the   reception   of   the   monument.   If  
addressed  to  the  monument  or  deceased,  verbs  in  the  imperative  are,  for  example,  
‘tell’,  ‘reveal’  or  something  similar,  all  of  which  request  information.  If  addressed  to  
a  relative,  they  are  used  to  tell  the  relative  not  to  cry,  not  to  mourn,  or  to  enjoy  life  
while  it  lasts.    

Particles   are   especially   prominent   in   type   2,   but   are   used   in   other   types   as  
well.   Connectives   are   used   particularly   often   in   the   communication.   In   dialogues,  
certain   functions   for   δέ,   ἀλλά   and   καί   are   frequent:   δέ   introduces   new   questions  
(especially   in   t2,   in   second   question   turns   and/or   later   ones),   new   speakers  
(especially  in  t3,  implied  with  narrator  voice)  or  new  clusters  of  information  in  reply  
turns  (t1  and  t2  most  often).  ἀλλά  is  used  when  the  focus  shifts  from  one  semantic  
unit   to   another,   for   example   within   a   turn   to   highlight   the   change   from   an  
information  segment  to  an  end  wish  or  a  prayer  to  the  gods.  At  the  beginning  of  an  
adjacency   pair,   ἀλλά   marks   the   new   kind   of   pair;   for   example,   after   several  
question–answer  pairs,  a  pair  of  wishes  is  introduced  with  ἀλλά.  καί  joins  the  pairs  
together,  but  also,  in  greetings,  it  connects  the  two  turns  of  a  pair  (the  second  one  
beginning   with   καί   σύ   γε   or   similar).   Generally   speaking,   δέ   functions   more   on   the  
level  of  turns,  while  καί  shows  the  links  between  the  pairs.    

This   study   concentrates   on   the   verse   inscriptions,   but   some   fictive   parallels  
are  also  discussed,  and  some  similarities  in  speaker  roles  and  certain  communication  
structures   are   pointed   out.   In   the   verse   inscriptions,   the   monumental   context   and  

  206  
the   writer’s   knowledge   of   the   reception   situation   creates   certain   patterns   and  
conventions.  These  are  even  more  clearly  visible  in  the  dialogue  epigrams  than  in  the  
monologues.   This   complex   play   with   voices,   reader(s)   and   audience   intrigued   the  
Hellenistic   and   later   poets,   and   the   dialogue   form   is   played   with,   and   sometimes  
parodied,   in   the   non-­‐inscribed   epigrams;   however,   the   same   can   also   be   seen   in  
some  of  the  verse  inscriptions.  In  the  patterns  occurring  in  both,  we  can  see  how  the  
conventions   of   the   verse   inscriptions   were   used   and   modified   in   the   fictive   genre,  
but  also  how  the  development  of  the  fictive  genre  brings  variation  and,  for  example,  
narrative  elements  to  verse  inscriptions.    

As   the   epigrams   discussed   strongly   suggest,   the   audience   was   aware   of   a  

certain   set   of   speakers   in   verse   inscriptions.   These   roles   were   adapted   to   non-­‐
inscribed   epigrams   as   well,   but   often   for   new   functions.   The   voices   are   not   always  
clear,   and   sometimes   our   perception   of   the   voice   changes   during   the   course   of  
reading.  On  the  other  hand,  as  the  audience  was  probably  well  acquainted  with  the  
patterns   of   dialogue   epigrams,   it   was   able   to   follow   the   epigrams   even   when   the  
speakers   were   not   clearly   marked.   The   ‘wavering’   speaker   roles   /   voices   are   often  
deliberate   on   the   author’s   part   and   can   make   the   epigram   multidimensional,   and  
sometimes  funny.  

  This   study   brings   linguistic   and   epigraphic   methods   together,   and   by  

combining  these,  offers  a  new  viewpoint  on  the  epigram  genre,  and  thus  adds  to  our  
understanding   of   the   mutual   influence   of   the   verse   inscriptions   and   the   non-­‐
inscribed  epigrams.  Pragmatics  and  the  study  of  features  such  as  adjacency  pairs  and  
their   communicative   structures   offer   a   new   perspective   on   the   study   of   epigraphic  
patterns.    

The  material  discussed  dates  mainly  to  the  Roman  period,  and  the  study  thus  
contributes   to   the   ongoing   discussion   on   epigrams   and   verse   inscriptions.   Current  
research   concentrates   on   Hellenistic   epigrams   and   their   predecessors,   but   later  
phases   are   less   well   represented.   In   this   study,   the   early   examples   are   taken   into  
account,   and   the   first   stages   of   dialogue   thus   plotted,   but   pre-­‐Hellenistic   examples  
are   few,   and   the   focus   of   the   study   is   on   the   later   material:   the   apex   of   the   dialogue  

  207  
form   occurred   around   the   first   three   centuries   CE,   but   we   have   some   (fewer)  
examples  from  the  later  centuries  as  well.    

The   monumental   context   is   also   noted   in   the   analysis.   There   are   monuments  
with   several   epigrams,   of   which   the   dialogue   is   just   a   small   section,   and   there   are  
also   monuments   with   prose   sections   in   addition   to   the   epigram.   There   is  
communication   between   these   different   parts,   as   well   as   the   text(s)   and   the  
reliefs/statues  on  the  monument.  Sometimes  these  are  commented  on  in  the  texts,  
as   is   the   text   itself   (references   to   the   verses   and/or   to   the   physical   letters   on   the  
monument).   This   adds   to   the   reception:   the   text   are   seen   and   heard   as   part   of   a  
complex   unity   comprising   the   monument   as   a   whole   and   its   message–   there   is  
always  communication  between  the  monument  and  its  recipient(s)  as  well.  

This  study  highlights  the  need  for  further  research  on  diaphonic  texts.   In  this  
study,   the   elements   of   communication   are   in   focus,   but   many   ‘almost   dialogical’  
texts  indicate  that  these  definitions  were  not  always  significant  for  the  writers  of  the  
epigrams.  It  was  not  possible  to  discuss  all  such  examples  in  this  study,  but  it  would  
be  highly  interesting  to  collect  such  epigrams  systematically  and  study  them  further.    

Another   aspect   worthy   of   further   discussion   is   the   phenomenon   of   the  

monument  or  the  deceased  voice  speaking  a  monologue  and  asking  questions  which  
it   then   proceeds   to   answer   itself.   This   seems   to   be   more   frequent   after   the   first  
centuries   CE.   By   collecting   and   comparing   such   epigrams,   the   development   of   the  
speaker   roles   in   both   verse   inscriptions   and   non-­‐inscribed   epigrams   could   be   further  
studied,   and   the   influence   of   certain   dialogue   patterns   could   perhaps   also   be  
detected.  
For   literary   studies,   further   overall   analysis   and   comparison   of   verse  
inscriptions  and  non-­‐inscribed  epigrams  could  prove  fruitful,  as  well  as  more  detailed  
analysis   of   other   literary   influence   on   epigram.   This   has   of   course   been   done   to   a  
certain   extent   in   recent   studies,   but   much   less   so   as   regards   the   Roman   period.   It  
was   possible   to   discuss   elements   such   as   speaker   roles   in   non-­‐inscribed   epigrams  
only   very   briefly   in   this   study   (this   is   an   aspect   noted   in   the   Hellenistic   epigram  
study),  but  I  believe  the  later  epigrams  have  more  to  offer  on  the  topic.  

  208  
 For   more   ‘material’   aspects,   a   broader   study   that   plots   epigrams   with  
reference  to  the  monument  or  the  text  itself  (both  dialogue  and  monologue)  has  the  
potential  to  uncover  new  information.  The  best  results  would  be  achieved  through  a  
collaboration  of  epigraphists  and  art  historians.  Such  a  study  should  concentrate  on  
the   material   from   a   certain   place   and   analyse   factors   such   as   cross-­‐references  
between   the   text   and   the   monument   /   decoration,   their   joint   message   to   the  
audience  and  the  ways  of  communicating  this  message  and  arresting  the  interest  of  
the  audience.  Such  material  should  then  be  compared  to  similar  data  from  different  
areas  in  order  to  see  if  the  textual  and  decorative  communication  strategies  vary.  

   

  209  
  

  210  
APPENDIX  A:  Table  A1,    Dialogue  verse  inscriptions  (with  dates  and  proveniences)  
 
Epigram  (chapter  in  which  it  was   Date   Provenience   Type  
discussed  in  and  number)  
GVI  1831  =  CEG  120  (2;  1)   (6th/)5th    BCE   Demetrias,  Thessaly   t1  
th
CEG  429  =  SGO  1,  01/12/05  (2;  2)   5  BCE   Halicarnassus,  Caria   t1  
IG  II/III212067  =  GVI  1387  =  GG  101   4th  BCE   Piraeus,  Attica   t1  
=  CEG  530  =  SEG  29,  259  (2;  3)  
GVI  1835  =  SGO  3,  14/07/02  (2;  6   2nd  CE   Iconion,  Lycaonia   t1  
and  3;  21)  
GVI  1867  =  SEG  11,  383  (2;  7)   3rd  CE   Hermione,  Argolis   t1  
GVI  1840  (2;  8  and  3;  6)   late  Imperial   Berytus,  Syria  (Lebanon)   t1  
nd
SGO  4,  21/24/02  =  SEG  37,  1538  =   2  CE   Philadelphia,  Palestine   t2  
SEG  52,  1587  =  SEG  58,  1743  (2;  9)   (Amman)  
st nd
Bernand,  Inscr.  Métr.  68  =  GVI  1843   1 /2  CE   Saqqarah,  Egypt   t2  
=  GG  427  =  SEG  8,  530  (2;  10  and  4;  
14)  
IG  XII  3,  220  =  GVI  1832  =  SEG  60,   2nd  CE   Astypalaia     t1  
894    (2;  11)  
GVI  1877  =  BÉ  1953,  211  =  SGO  4,   2nd/3rd  CE   Marathus,  Syria   t1  
20/02/01  (2;  12  and  3;  19)  
Sardis  7,  1,  111  =  GVI  1881  =  GG  433   2nd/1st  BCE   Sardis,  Ioania   t2  
=  SGO  1,  04/02/11  =  SEG  49,  1678,  
SEG  50,  1762,  SEG  58,  1981,  SEG  59,  
1945  (2;  13  and  4;  13)  
GVI  1882  =  IC  IV  372  =  SEG  3,  781  (2;   2nd  CE   Gortyn,  Crete   t2  
14)  
GVI  1855  =  SGO  2,  08/01/44  (2;  15)   2nd  CE     Aphthonios,  Mysia   t1  
IG  II/III2  10073  =  GVI  1864  =  SEG  48,   2nd/3rd  CE   Attica   t2  
906  (2;  16  and  4;  1)  
IG  X  2,  1,  464  =  GVI  1865  =  SEG  52,   2nd/3rd  CE   Thessalonica,  Macedonia   t2  
620  (2;  17)  
SGO  4,  17/06/05  =  SEG  29,  1442  (2;   3rd  CE   Oinoanda,  Lycia   t2  
18)  
SGO  2,  10/02/31  =  SEG  33,  1111  (3;   2nd  CE   Caesarea/Hadrianoupolis,   t1  
1)   Paphlagonia  
2 th th
IG  II/III  13166  =  GVI  1880  (3;  2)   4 /5  CE   Athens,  Attica   t1  
SGO  1,  05/01/32  =  GVI  1879  =  SEG   2nd  CE   Smyrna,  Ionia   t1  
49,  1478  (3;  3)  
SEG  23,  434  =  GG  429  (3;  4)   3rd  CE   Pherai,  Thessaly   t1  
st nd rd
SGO  4,  19/10/01  =  AG  7.426  =  SEG   1 /2 /3  CE   Canytelis,  Cilicia   t1  
30,  1562  =  SEG  57,  2092  (3;  5)  
SGO  1,  02/09/24  (3;  7)   ca.  450  CE   Aphrodisias,  Caria   t1  
rd
Corinth  8,  1,  no.  89  =  IG  IV  1603  (3;   late  3  CE   Corinth,  Corinthia     t1  
8)  
Olympia  5,  225  (3;  9)   1st  CE   Olympia,  Elis   t1  
GVI  1869  (3;  10)     1st  CE     Panticapaion,  Crimea   t1  
IC  II  xiv  27  =  GVI  1852  (3;  11)   ‘Roman’   Lappa,  Crete   t1  
IG  XII  7,  490  =  GVI  1856  (3;  12)   2nd/3rd  CE   Aigiale,  Amorgos   t1  
SGO  2,  08/04/05  (3;  13)   ‘late’   Dascyleion,  Mysia   t1  

  211  
IG  V  2,  182  =  GVI  1857  (3;  14)   2nd/3rd  CE   Tegea,  Arcadia   t1  
GVI  1850  (3;  15)   2nd  CE   Rhodes   t1  
Rife  2008,  132  =  SEG  58,  311  (3;  16) 2nd/3rd  CE   Steiri,  Corinthia   t1  
   
GVI  1878  =  SGO  4,  20/16/02  =  SEG   3rd/4th  CE?     Caesarea  Philippi,  Palestine   t1  
7,  329  (3;  17)  
IG  II/III2  7711  =  GVI  1386  =  SEG  36,   4th  CE   Piraeus,  Attica   t1  
269  =  SEG  37,  192  (3;  18)  
IG  II/III2  11606a  =  GVI  1841  =  SEG   later  than  3rd   Athens,  Attica   t1  
30,  268  =  SEG  31,  238  (3;  20)   CE  
SGO  2,  09/07/09  =  SEG  28,  995  (3;   ‘Hellenistic’   Calchedon,  Bithynia   t1  
22)  
IG  II/III2  12794  =  GVI  1836  (3;  23)   1st/2nd  CE   Athens,  Attica   t1  
SGO  4,  20/06/01  =  SEG  17,  756  (3;   6th  CE   Epiphaneia,  Syria   t1  
25)  
GVI  1851  =  SGO  2,  08/01/39  (3;  26)   2nd/1st  BCE   Cyzicus,  Mysia   t1  
GVI  1834  (3;  27)   1st  CE   ?   t1  
SGO  1,  05/01/57  (3;  28)   3rd  CE   Smyrna,  Ionia   t1  
GVI  1833  (3;  29)   2nd  BCE   Salamis,  Cyprus   t1  
IGPannonia  8  =  GVI  1853  (3;  30)   1st  CE   Carnuntum,  Pannonia   t1  
Smyrna  225  =  GVI  1884  =  SGO  1,   1st  CE   Smyrna,  Ionia   t1  
05/01/65  =  SEG  38,  1224  =  SEG  58,  
1742  (3;  31)    
SGO  2,  08/01/41     4th/5th  CE   Cyzicus,  Mysia   t2  
SGO  3,  16/55/03,  cf.  GVI  1870  =  GG   1st  CE     Philomelion,  Phrygia   t2  
431  (4;  2)  
IMT  Olympene  2691  =  GVI  1862  =   1st  BCE/1st  CE   Hadrianoi,  Mysia   t2  
SGO  2,  08/08/10  =  SEG  54,  1833  (4;  
3)  
IG  II/III2  8918  =  GVI  1847  (4;  4)   1st  CE   Athens,  Attica   t2  
SGO  4,  21/23/06  =  SEG  58,  1743  =   6th  CE     Gerasa,  Palestine   t2  
SEG  60,  1927(2)  (4;  5)  
IG  X  2,  1,  148(B)  =  SEG  50,  1194  app.   mid-­‐3rd  CE   Thessalonica,  Macedonia   t2  
cr.  =  SEG  52,  620  (4;  6)  
IG  XIV  1883,  GVI  1866  =  GG  430  (4;   3rd  CE     Rome   t2  
7)  
IG  XII  5,  307,  GVI  1860  =  GG  428  =   1st  CE   Paros   t2  
SEG  45,  2251  (4;  8)  
SGO  3,  16/08/01  (4;  9)   ?   Temenuthyrai     t2  
SGO  1,  03/06/06  =  GVI  1859  (4;  10)   2nd/1st  BCE   Teos,  Ionia   t2  
Marek  1993,  no.  38  =  GVI  1863  =   2nd  CE   Amastris,  Bithynia   t2  
SGO  2,  10/03/04  (4;  11)  
IG  XII,  5,  310  =  GVI  1871  =  GG  432  =   2nd  CE   Parus   t2  
SEG  30,  1063  =  SEG  58,  1885  =  SEG  
59,  1971  &  2079  (4;  12)  
GVI  1861  =  GG  429  =  SEG  8,  482  (4;   1st  CE   Leontopolis,  Egypt   t2  
15)  
GVI  1842  =  GG  426,  cf.  SEG  8,  802  =   1st/2nd  CE   Egypt   t2  
SEG  53,  2176  (4;  16)  
Bernand,  Inscr.  Métr.  49  =  GVI  1845   2nd/3rd  CE   Egypt   t2  

  212  
=  SEG  8,  371  (4;  17)  
GVI  I  1846  =  BÉ  1944,  199a  (4;  18)   early  3rd  CE     Hermoupolis  Magna,  Egypt   t2  
GVI  1858  =  AG  7.163  (4;  19)   3rd  CE   Unknown   t2  
Bernand,  Inscr.Métr.  33  =  GVI  1873   latter  half  of   Heracleopolis,  Egypt   t3  
=  GG  437  =  SEG  50,  1600  =  SEG  60,   2nd  CE  
1122    (5;  1)  
GVI  1874  =  GG  438  =  SGO  1,   2nd/1st  BCE   Cnidus,  Caria   t3  
01/01/07  (5;  2)  
Bernand,  Insc.  Métr.  46  =  GVI  1875  =   1st  BCE/1st  CE   Alexandria,  Egypt   t3  
GG  439    =  SEG  60,  1930  &  2022  (5;  
3)  
IG  X  2,  1,  368  (5;  4)   2nd  CE   Thessalonica,  Macedonia   t3  
SGO  3,  16/31/93D  =  SEG  6,  140  (5;   4th  CE   Appia/Soa,  Phrygia   t3  
5)  
IK  Heraclea  Pont.  9  =  SGO  2,   2nd/3rd  CE   Heraclea  Pontice,  Bithynia   t3  
09/11/02  =  SEG  31,  1072  (5;  6)  
SGO  3,  14/04/03  =  SEG  52,  1918  =   4th  CE   Kissia,  Lycaonia   t3  
SEG  58,  1885    (5;  7)  
GVI  1887,  cf.  Bernand,  Inscr.Métr.   3rd/4th  CE   Saqqarah,  Egypt   t3  
27    
(5;  8)  
SGO  2,  08/04/98   2nd  CE   Dascyleion,  Mysia   t1  
SGO  3,  14/04/02  =  GVI  1839   3rd  CE/later   Kissia,  Lycaonia   t1  
SGO  3,  16/06/01  =  SEG  6,  210   3rd  CE   Eumeniae   t1  
SGO  4,  17/09/01  =  SEG  56,  1111   ‘Imperial’   Patara,  Lycia   t1  
SEG  55,  775  (=  SEG  35,  763)   6th  CE   Sandansk,  Thrace   t1  
GVI  1854  =  SGO  2,  08/04/06  =  SEG   1st/2nd  CE   Panderma,  Mysia   t1  
42,  926  
IG  XIV,  1514a  =  GVI  1886  =  SEG  42,   2nd/3rd  CE   Rome   t1  
926    
SGO  2,  08/01/49   ‘Imperial’   Cyzicus,  Mysia   t1  
GVI  1885   2nd  CE   Rome   t1  
SGO  2,  09/11/03   ?   Heraclea  Pontice,  Bithynia   t1449  
SGO  4,  21/07/01  =  SEG  58,  1743  &   5th/6th  CE   Berosaba,  Palestine   t1  
1885  =  SEG  60,  1927(3)  
SGO  1,  02/14/06   5th  CE   Laodicea,  Caria   t1  
SGO  4,  21/09/01  =  SEG  49,  2069   ‘Hellenistic’   Marissa,  Palestine   t2  
IG  XIV  769  =  GVI  1883  =  SEG  37,   1st/2nd  CE   Neapel   t1  
784-­‐786  =  SEG  44,  817  (3;  32)  
IG  VII  3110  =  GVI  1838  =  SEG  49,   3rd  CE   Lebadeia,  Boeotia   t1  
2440  
IC  IV  391,  no.  432  =  SEG  28,  739   1st  CE   Gortyn,  Crete   t1  
SGO  2,  09/06/99  =  GVI  1849   2nd/3rd  CE   Nicomedea,  Bithynia   t1  
GVI  1837  =  SEG  49,  2452   2nd/3rd  CE     Attica   t1  
GVI  1876   2nd  CE   Temessus,  Pisidia   t1  
SGO  1,  03/02/198   ?   Ephesus,  Ionia   t1  
SGO  1,  05/01/18   ?   Smyrna,  Ionia   t1  
SGO  1,  05/01/19   ?   Smyrna,  Ionia   t1  

                                                                                                                         
449
 But  very  fragmentary.  

  213  
SGO  2,  11/07/05  =  AG  16.201   ?   Amaseia,  Pontos   t1  
SEG  18,  269     ?   Sveti  Naum,  Macedonia   t1  
GVI  1848   ?   ?   t2  
GVI  1844  =  IG  XIV,  1603   2nd  CE   Rome   t2  
GVI  1868   2nd  CE     ?   t2  
GVI  1872  =  IG  II/III2  10118  =  SEG  52,   2nd/3rd  CE   Athens,  Attica   t2  
1991  
IG  IX  1,  878  =  SEG  51,  1009   2nd  BCE   Corfu   t2  
SGO  3,  14/12/01  =  SEG  6,  488   ?   Lycaonia,  Isauria   t3  
SGO  1,  01/12/20   ‘Hellenistic’   Halicarnassus,  Caria   t1  
SGO  4,  17/06/02  =  SEG  44,  1833  =   3rd  CE     Oinoanda,  Lycia   t3  
SEG  52,  1918    
SGO  4,  18/01/24   ‘Imperial’   Termessos,  Pisidia   t1  
SGO  4,  18/01/26   ‘Imperial’   Termessos,  Pisidia   t1  
SGO  4,  20/27/01  =  SEG  44,  1566  =   ‘Imperial’   Nisibis,  Syria   t1  
SEG  57,  2172  
SGO  2,  08/01/51  =  SEG  60,  1999   ‘early  Imperial’   Cyzicus,  Mysia   t3  
SGO  2,  09/04/06  =  SEG  51,  1707   3rd  CE   Prusa  ad  Olympum   t1  
SGO  1,  04/24/16  =  SEG  57,  1206   2nd  CE   Philadelphia   t1  
SGO  1,  06/02/32  =  SEG  50,  1762,   ‘Imperial’   Pergamon   t3  
SEG  53,  2191,  SEG  60,  1930  
IG  XII  4,  3,  2147  (to  be  published)   2nd  BCE   Cos   t2  
 
 

  214  
APPENDIX  B:  Non-­‐inscribed  dialogue  epigrams  
 
 
Table  B1:  Dialogue  epigrams  in  the  Greek  Anthology    
 
Epigram  (no.)   Author   Dialogue   Chapter  /  number  
type  
AG  1.43   Anonymous   t1    
1.66   Anonymous   t1   (2.2.7)450  
5.46   Philodemus   t2   (2.2.7)  
5.101   Anonymous   t2   (2.2.7)  
5.233   Macedonius  the  Consul   t3   5;  14  
5.242   Eratosthenes  Scholasticus   t3   5;  9  
5.250   Paulus  Silentiarius   t3   5;  13  
5.267   Agathias  Scholasticus   t2    
6.122   Nicias   t1    
6.224   Theodoridas   t1    
6.259   Philippus   t2    
6.351   Callimachus   t2   2;  fn.  83  
6.357   Theaetetus   t3    
7.33   Julianus,  Prefect  of  Egypt   t1   3;  34  
7.37   Dioscorides   t1    
7.62   Anonymous   t1   3;  33  
7.64   Anonymous   t2    
7.79   Meleager   t2    
7.89   Callimachus   t3    
7.116   Diogenes  Laertius   t1    
7.161   Antipater  of  Sidon   t1    
7.163   Leonidas  of  Tarentum   t2   4;  19  
7.164   Antipater  of  Sidon   t2   4;  fn.  374  
7.165   Archias   t2   4;  fn.  374  
7.307   Paulus  Silentiarius   t2   4;  25  
7.317   Callimachus   t2   3;  35  
7.335   Anonymous   t1    
7.379   Antiphilus  of  Byzantium   t1    
7.424   Antipater  of  Sidon   t1    
7.426   Antipater  of  Sidon   t1   3;  fn.  195  and  fn.  255  
7.470   Meleager   t2   4;  fn.  325  
7.503   Leonidas  of  Tarentum   t1    
7.524   Callimachus   t2    
7.548   Leonidas  of  Alexandria   t2   4;  26  (+2.2.7)  
7.552   Agathias  Scholasticus   t2   4;  20  
7.576   Julianus,  Prefect  of  Egypt   t2   2;  5  

                                                                                                                         
450
This  and  others  marked  with  (2.2.7)  were  mentioned  at  the  beginning  of  section  2.2.7  but  were  not  
further  analysed  in  this  study.

  215  
7.590   Julianus,  Prefect  of  Egypt   t2    
7.603   Julianus,  Prefect  of  Egypt   t2   4;  21  
7.679   Saint  Sophronius,  Patriarch   t1    
7.686   Palladas   t3   5;  fn.  435  
7.725   Callimachus   t1    
7.734   Anonymous   t2   4;  fn.  309  
8.58   Gregory  of  Nazianzus   t2    
8.126   Gregory  of  Nazianzus   t1    
8.128   Gregory  of  Nazianzus   t3   5;  fn.  435  
8.167   Gregory  of  Nazianzus   t2    
8.187   Gregory  of  Nazianzus   t2    
8.192   Gregory  of  Nazianzus   t3    
9.37   Tullius  Flaccus   t2   2;  fn.  130  
9.39   Musicius   t3   5;  fn.  435  
9.108   Anonymous   t3   5;  fn.  435  
9.164   Anonymous   t1   2;  fn.  130  
9.177   Anonymous   t3   5;  11  
9.192   Antiphilus  of  Byzantium   t1   2;  fn.  130  
9.237   Erycius   t1    
9.294   Antiphilus  of  Byzantium   t2    
9.317   Anonymous   t2    
9.320   Leonidas  of  Tarentum   t3   5;  12  
9.330   Nicarchus   t2    
9.341   Glaucus   t1   (2.2.7)  
9.480   Anonymous   t1    
9.549   Antiphilus   t1   2;  fn.  130  
9.586   Cometas  Chartularius   t2    
9.670   Anonymous   t1    
9.671   Anonymous   t1    
9.754   Claudius  Claudianus   t2    
11.124   Nicarchus   t1    
11.155   Lucillius   t1    
11.297   Anonymous   t1    
11.298   Anonymous   t3    
11.324   Automedon   t2    
11.354   Agathias  Scholasticus   t3    
11.376   Agathias  Scholasticus   t3    
11.386   Palladas   t3    
11.388   Lucillius   t3    
11.391   Lucillius   t3    
12.8   Strato   t3   5;  fn.  424  
12.101   Meleager   t3    
12.117   Meleager   t2    
12.143   Anonymous   t2   2;  fn.  131  
12.155   Anonymous   t2    
12.206   Strato   t1    

  216  
13.5   Phalaecus   t2    
13.11   Simonides   t2    
14.1   Socrates   t1    
14.3   Anonymous   t3   5;  10  
14.6   Anonymous   t1   2;  fn.  130  
14.51   Anonymous   t3    
14.117   Metrodorus   t1    
14.129   Metrodorus   t3   5;  fn.  429  
14.139   Metrodorus   t1    
14.141   Metrodorus   t1    
14.144   Metrodorus   t2    
14.145   Metrodorus   t1    
14.146   Metrodorus   t1    
16.15a   Anonymous   t1    
16.23   Simonides   t1   3;  36  
16.55   Troilus  Grammaticus   t1   3;  fn.  273  
16.60   Simonides   t2    
16.103   Tullius  Geminus   t1    
16.152   Gauradas   t1    
16.174   Anonymous   t3    
16.183   Anonymous   t1    
16.184   Antipater  of  Thessalonica   t1    
16.193   Philippus   t2    
16.201   Marianus  Scholasticus   t1   2;  fn.  92  
16.231   Anyte   t1    
16.240   Philippus     t2    
16.241   Marcus  Argentarius   t1    
16.247   Nilus  Scholasticus   t1    
16.253   Anonymous   t1    
16.267   Synesius  Scholasticus   t2   4;  22  
16.275   Posidippus   t2   4;  23  
16.299   Anonymous   t2   4;  24  
16.313   Anonymous   t2    
16.344   Anonymous   t2    
 
See  also  3;  no.  73,  AG  7.316  by  Leonidas  of  Tarentum  and  4;  fn.  358,  AG  7.522  by  
Callimachus.  
 
 
 
 
 
 

  217  
  
Table  B2:  Dialogues  (mostly  Byzantine)  in  Cougny451  
Cougny  2   752  
  755  
  758  
  764  
  771  
Cougny  3   65  
  358  
  416  
  417  
Cougny  4   10  
  14  
  141  
Cougny  5   57  
  60  
 
 
 
Table  B3:  Speakers  of  the  dialogues  in  the  Greek  Anthology  
Speakers   Epigram  (number  in  the  Anthology)  
X  –  Y       1.43,  1.66,  5.46,  5.101,  5.267,  7.590,  7.603,  8.167,  9.330,  
9.341,  9.480,  9.586,  11.155,  11.297,  11.324,  11.376,  11.386,  
12.117,  12.155,  14.1,  14.117,  14.141,  14.144,  14.145,  
14.146,  16.15,  16.60,  16.152,  16.184,  16.253,  16.299  
X  –  Y  (personification)   7.379,  7.548,  9.37,  9.164,  9.549,  9.754,  14.6  
N  –  Y  (N  –  n  –  N  –  Y   5.233,  5.242,  5.250,  11.388,  12.8,  12.101,  12.206  
etc.)  
PB  –  DEDICATION   6.122,  6.224,  6.  259,  6.351,  6.357,  16.55  
PB  –  MON     7.37,  7.62,  7.64,  7.79,  7.161,  7.426,  7.470,  7.503,  7.679,  
8.58,  8.126,  8.187,  11.124,  12.143,  13.5,  13.11,  16.103,  
16.183,  16.193  (/X  –  Y),  16.201,  16.231,  16.240,  16.241,  
16.247,  16.267,  16.275,  16.313,  16.344  
PB  –  DEC     7.33,  7.116,  7.163,  7.164,  7.165,  7.307,  7.317,  7.424,  7.524,  
7.725,  7.552,  7.576,  8.192,    
X  –  Y  –  Z  /N   7.686,  8.128,  9.39,  9.108,  9.177,  11.298,  11.  3911,  4.3,  
14.51,  14.129,  16.174  
N  –  X  –  Y  –  Z     7.89  
DEC?  –  REL     7.335  
PB  –  HON     16.23  
 

                                                                                                                         
451
 Here,  only  the  epigrams  in  Cougny  that  are  not  mentioned  in  Tables  A1  and  B1  are  listed.  

  218  
APPENDIX  C  
 
Initia                   Chapter;  number  
 
ἁ  Κύπρις  τὸν    Ἔρωτα  κατηφιόντ  α  προσηύδα·∙       5;  10  
ἄγγελε  Φερσεφόνης,  Ἑρμῆ             3;  32  
ἄγριος  ἐστι  Χάρων.  —  πλέον  ἤπιος           4;  21  
Αἴαντος  παρὰ  τύμβον  ἀταρβήτοιο           5;  11  
αἰετέ,  τίπτε  βέβηκας  ὑπὲρ  τάφον;           3;  33  
Ἀμμία,  θυγάτηρ  πινυτή,  πῶς             5;  5  
ἄνδρα  μοι  ἔννεπε,  κοῦρε             3;  25  
Ἁρπάλου  εἰμὶ  τάφος.  —  τίνος  Ἁρπάλου;         4;  18  
[Ἀ]σκληπᾶ  Δημ[ητρίου]  [χ]αῖρε·∙               3;  13  
ἀστὴν  Ναυκράτεως  Μενελάου           5;  1  
Ἀττίνα·∙  τίς  σε  ἄνστησε;             4;  6  
αὐ<δ>ὴ  τεχνήεσσα  λίθο,  λέγε  τίς           2;  2  
αὔριον  ἀθρήσω  σε.  τὸ  δ᾽  ού             5;  14  
ἄφθιτος,  οὐ  θνητή.  —  θαυμά[ζω           4;  17  
βασιλεῦ  τᾶν  ἱερᾶν  Ἀθανᾶν,             5  (5.3:  extras)  
Δημητρία  χαῖρε.  —  Πῶς  δύνομαι  χαίρειν         3;  16  
Διονυσόδωρε,  χαῖρε.  —  καὶ  σύ  γε           3;  26  
δίψαι  αὖος  ἐγὼ               2;  4  
εἰπέ,  λέον,  φθιμένοιο  τῖνος  τάφον           3;  27  
εἰπέ  μοι  εἰρομένῳ,  τίνος  εἰκών           4;  9  
εἶπέ  ποκ᾽  Εὐρώτας  ποτὶ  τὰν  Κύπριν           5;  12  
εἶπον  ἀνειρομένῳ,  τίς  καὶ  τίνος  ἐσσί           4;  fn.  325  
εἶπον,  τίς,  τίνος  ἐσσί,  τίνος  πατρίδος           3;  36  
ἐνθάδε  Διάλογος  καθαρῷ  πύρι  γυῖα  καθήρας       2;  fn.  56  
ἐνθάδε  τίς  κεῖται;  παροδοιπόρε           2;  8,  3;  6  
ἔννεπε  μοι,  Σχοινῖτι               5  (5.3:  extras)  
ἐξ  ἀγαθῆς  ῥιζης  ἔρνος  κλυτόν           5;  7  
Ἑρμῆ,  τοξευθεὶς  ἐξέσπασα  πικρὸν  ἐφήβῳ         2;  fn.  131  

  219  
ἔσχατα  μερόπων  δώματα             5;  6  
εὐθύμει,  Τρυφέρα·∙  τὰ  δεδογμένα           3;  19  
ἡδύ,  φίλοι,  μείδημα  τὸ  Λαΐδος·∙           5;  13  
θηρῶν  κράτιστε  καὶ  θεῶν  μύστα           3;  5  
[κ]ὲ  σύ  [γ]ε  [ὦ]  παροδεῖτα             2;  15  
κάτθανες,  ὦ  Πύρρων.  —  Ἐπέχω.           2;  5  
κλῦθι  καὶ  ἀνπαύσα[ς-­‐-­‐-­‐             2;  7  
κομψὰν  καὶ  χαρίεσα  πέτρος  δείκνυσι         4;  13  
λάινά  σοι  τύμβον  δωμήματα  Θεῖος           5;  2  
Λαμπίδος  ἆρα/ἦρα  τάφον  παραμείβομαι         3;  4  
λάρναξ  αὐδήεσσα,  τί  τ[ῷδ᾽]  ὑπὸ  σήματι         2;  6,  3;  21  
λιτός  γ᾽  ὁ  τύμβος·∙  τίς  δ᾽  ὁ  δεσπότης           4;  fn.  332  
Μή,  ξέν᾽  ὁδῖτα,  σπεῦδε.  —    τί  γάρ;           4;  fn.  309  
μῆτερ,  τί  στενάχεις,  τί  <δ>ὲ  δάκρυσι           3;  3  
μητρὶ  δέμας  γαίῃ  προλιπὼν             5;  8  
Μοῖρα  πικρή,  Λήθης  Ἀχερουσίδος           5;  4  
νήπιος  ἐν  τύμβῳ  τίς  ἄρ᾽  ἐσθ᾽             3;  31  
οἰκῖ  τίς  ὧδε;  —  Ἡράκλιος             3;  20  
ὃν  Μο[ῖ]ρ᾽  ὠκυκέλευθ[ο]ν             3;  17  
ὁππόθεν  ὁ  στήσας;  —  Βυζάντιος           4;  22  
[οὐ  γάμον  οὐχ]  ὑμέναιον             3;  30  
οὔνομά  μοι...  —  τί  δὲ  τοῦτο;             4;  25  
οὗτος  ὁ  παιδὸς  ἀκμήν,  ἀνδρὸς           3;  9  
πατὴρ  Φιλίνος,  Φιλοκράτη             3;  15  
πολλὰ  πιὼν  τέθνηκας,  Ἀνάκρεον           3;  34  
στάλα  μανύτειρα.  —  τίς  ἐν             4;  15  
στάλα  μὲ<ν>  οὐκ  ἄσαμος             2;  11  
στῆθι  φίλον  παρὰ  τύμβον             2;  10,  4;  14  
στήλη,  τίνα  ἐν  κόλ[ποισι]             3;  1  
στήλη,  τίς  σ᾽  ἔστησεν  ἀριπρεπέως           3;  23  
σφίξ,  hαΐδ̣αο  [κ]ύον,               2;  1  
τεῦ  σ᾽  ἐνέπειν  χρῆν  τύμβον             4;  3  

  220  
τὴν  ἐπ᾽  ἐμεῦ  στήλην  παραμείβεο           3;  37  
Τίμων  οὐ  γὰρ  ἔτ᾽  ἐσσί,  τί  τοι             3;  35  
τίν  με,  λεοντάγχ᾽  ὦνα  συοκτόνε           2;  fn.  83  
τίπ̣τ̣ε,  π̣ό̣σ̣ι̣[ς],  φων̣[εῖς;-­‐-­‐-­‐             3;  2  
τίς  Δάμων  Ἀργείος  ἐπ᾽  ἠρίῳ;             4;  26  
τίς  εὐπρεπέ]σιν  γλυφαῖσιν  εἵδρυσεν           3;  28  
τίς  ἦ  ῥα  τύμβῳ  τῷδ᾽  ὕπεσσ᾽;             4;  10  
τίς  ἦν  σε  ὁ  θρέψας;  —  ἦν  Κίλιξ           4;  7  
τίς  θάνεν;  —  Ἡρωίς.  —  πῶς  καὶ  πότε;         4;  16  
τίς  κατὰ  γᾶς;  —  Ἑκαταίου  ὁμώνυμος           3;  22  
τίς  με  τὸν  ἐξ  ἀγέλης  πέδων             3;  24  
τίς  πατρίς  ἐστί  σοι;  —  ἥδε             2;  17  
τίς;  πόθεν;  —  ἐκ  Λυκίης  μέν             3;  17  
τίς,  πόθεν;  —  ἔνθεν  ἔφυν             2;  18  
τίς,  πόθεν  ὁ  πλάστης;  —  Σικυώνιος           4;  23  
τίς  πόθεν  ὢν  ἐνταῦθα  ὑπὸ  χθονὶ           2;  16  and  4;  1  
τίς  σε,  γύναι,  Παρίην  ὑπὸ  βώλακα           4;  8  
τίς  τίνος  ἀμφὶ  π[έτ]ρῃ  κέκ[λ]ι[σα]ι           4;  11  
τίς  τίνος  εὖσα,  γύναι,  Παρίην  ὑπὸ  κίονα         4;  19  
τίς  τίνος;  ἢν  εἴρῃ,  Κλάδος  οὔνομα           4;  3  
[τ]ίς  τύπον  εἱμερόεντα  Ἰούνορος           3;  18  
τοῦτο  τὸ  σᾶμα  τίνος;               2;  14  
τύμβε,  τίνος  τόδε  σῆμα;             3;  29  
φράζε,  γύναι,  γενεήν,  ὄνομα,  χθόνα           4;  2  
φράζε  τεὴν  πάτρην,  τεὸν  οὔνομα           3;  10  
φράζε  τίνος  γονέως,  σέο  τ᾽  οὔνομα           4;  12  
χαῖρε,  Διομήδη  Συμβρίτιε             3;  11  
χαῖρε  καλὴ  σώφρων  Κλεαρὼ             3;  14  
χαῖρε,  τάφος  Μελίτης·∙  χρηστὴ  γυνὴ           2;  3  
χαίρετε.  —  Εὐφροσύνε  καλοούνομε           3;  12  
χθονίων  ἔνερθε  δαιμόνων  ἀνάκτορες         5;  3  
Χῖος  ἔφυς;  —  οὔ  φημι.  —  τί  δαί           4;  24  

  221  
ψηφίς,  τίς  σ᾽  ἀνέθηκεν;  —  ὁ  δώματα           4;  5  
ὦ  ξένε,  τί  κλαίεις;  —  διὰ  σὸν             4;  20  
ὦ  τὸν  ἀειμνήστου  σ᾽  ἀρετᾶς             3;  18  
ὡς  εἶδον  Μελίτην,  ὦχρός  μ᾽  ἕλε           5;  9

  222  
APPENDIX  D  
Concordance  
 

AG452       chp.  and  no.   AG  

5.233       5;  14   16.23       3;  36  
5.242       5;  9   16.55       3;  fn.  273  
5.250       5;  13   16.201       2;  fn.  92  
6.351       2;  fn.  83   16.267       4;  22  
7.33       3;  34   16.275       4;  23  
7.62       3;  33   16.299       4;  24  
7.163       4;  19    
7.164   4;  fn.  374   Bernand      
7.165       4;  fn.  374   27       5;  8  
7.307       4;  25   33       5;  1  
7.317       3;  35   46       5;  3  
7.426       3;  fns.  195,  255   49       4;  17  
7.470       4;  fn.  325   68       4;  14    
7.548       4;  26    
7.552       4;  20    
7.576       2;  5   CEG    
7.603       4;  21   120       2;  1  
7.686       5;  fn.  435   429       2;  2  
7.734       4;  fn.  309   512       3;  18  
8.128       5;  fn.  435   530       2;  3  
9.37       2;  fn.  130    
9.39       5;  fn.  435   Corinth  8,  1,  89   3;  8  
9.108       5;  fn.  435    
9.164       2;  fn.  130   Cougny     all:  table  B2  
9.177       5;  11   2.752  
9.192       2;  fn.  130   2.755                  
9.320       5;  20   2.758        
9.549       2;  fn.  120   2.764        
12.8       5;  fn.  424   2.771  
12.143       2;  fn.  131   3.65  
14.3       5;  10   3.358  
14.6       2;  fn.  130   3.416  
14.129       5;  fn.  429   3.417  
                                                                                                                          4.10  
452
 For  non-­‐inscribed  dialogue  epigrams  not   4.14  
analysed/referred  to  in  this  study,  see  table    
B1.  

  223  
Cougny     (all:  table  B2)   GVI  
4.141   1847       4;  4  
5.57   (1848       4;  table  6)  
5.60   (1849       3;  table  4)  
  1850       3;  15  
GG     1851       3;  26  
86       3;  18   1852       3;  11  
101       3;  3   1853       3;  30  
424       3;  4   (1854       3,  table  4)  
426       4;  16   1855       2;  15  
427       4;  14   1856       3;  12  
428       4;  8   1857       3;  14  
429       4;  15   1858       4;  19    
430       4;  7   1859       4;  10  
431       4;  2   1860       4;  8  
432       4;  12   1861       4;  15  
433       2;  13,  4;  13   1862       4;  3  
435       3;  31   1863       4;  11  
437       5;  1   1864       2;  16,  4;  1  
438       5;  2   1865       2;  17  
439       5;  3     1866       4;  7  
    1867       2;  7  
GVI   1869       3;  10  
1386       3;  19   1870       4;  2  
1387       2;  3,  3;  3   1871       4;  12  
1831       2;  1   (1872       4;  table  6)  
1832       2;  11   1873       5;  1  
1833       3;  29   1874       5;  2  
1834       3,  27   1875       5;  3  
1835       2;  6,  3;  21   (1876       3;  table  4)  
1836       3;  23     1877       2;  12,  3;  19  
(1837       3;  table  4)   1878       3;  17  
(1838       3;  table)   1879       3;  13  
(1839       3;  table  4)     1880       3;  2  
1840       2;  8,  3;  6   1881       4;  13  
1841       3;  20   1882       2;  14  
1842       4;  16   1883       3;  32  
1843       2;  10,  4;  14   1884       3;  31  
(1844       4;  table  6)   (1885       3;  table  4)  
1845       4;  17   (1886       3;  table  4)  
1846       4;  18   1887       5;  8  

  224  
IC   IGPannonia  8     3;  30  
II,  xii  31     2;  4   IK  Heraclea  Pont.  9   5;  6  
II,  xvi  27     3;  11   IMT  Olympene  2691   4;  3  
IV,  372       2;  14    
  Marek  1993,  38   4;  11  
IC   Olympia  5,  225   3;  9  
(IV  391       3;  table  4)   Rife  2008,  132     3;  16  
   
IG   SEG  
II/III2  7711     3;  18   3,  781         2;  14,  5;  7  
II/III2  8918     4;  4   6,  140       5;  5  
II/III2  10073     2;  16,  4;  1   (6,  210       3;  table  4)  
(II/III2  10118     4;  table  6)   (6,  488   5;  table  8)  
II/III2  11606a     3;  20   7,  329       3;  17  
II/III2  12067     2;  3   8,  482       4;  15  
II/III2  12794     3;  23   8,  530       2;  10,  4;  14  
II/III2  13166     3;  2   8,  802       4;  16  
II/III2  13374     3;  2   11,  383       2;  7  
  17,  756       3;  25  
V  2,  182     3;  14   (18,  269     3;  table  4)  
  23,  434     3;  4  
(VII  3110       3;  table  4)   (28,  739     3;  table  4)  
  28,  995     3;  22  
(IX  1,  878       4;  table  6)   29,  259     2;  3,  3;  3  
  29,  1442     2;  18  
X  2,  1,  148(B)     4;  6   30,  268     3;  20  
X  2,  1,  368     5;  4   30,  1063       4;  12  
X  2,  1,  464     2;  17   30,  1562     3;  5  
  31,  238     3;  20  
XII  3,  220     2;  11   31,  1072     5;  6  
(XII  4,3,  2147     4;  table  6)   33,  1111     3;  1  
XII  5,  307     4;  8   (35,  763     3;  table  4)  
XII  5,  310     4;  12   36,  269       3;  18  
  37,  192     3;  18  
XII  7,  490     3;  12   37,  784-­‐786     3;  32  
  37,  1583     2;  9  
(XIV  769     3;  table  4)   38,  1224     3;  31  
(XIV  1514a     3;  table  4)   39,  1673     2;  9  
(XIV  1603     3;  table  4)   (42,  926     3;  table  4)  
XIV  1883     4;  7    
   

  225  
SEG   SEG  
44,  817     3;  32   58,  1981     2;  13,  4;  13  
(44,  1566     3;  table  4)   59,  1971     4;  12  
44,  1833       2;  18   59,  1199     5  (chapter  5.3)  
+  5;  table  8   59,  1945     2;  13,  4;  13  
45,  2251     4;  8   59,  2079     4;  12    
48,  906     2;  16,  4,  1    
49,  1478     3;  3   60,  894     2;  11  
49,  1678     2;  13,  4;  13   60,  1122     5;  1  
(49,  1760     3;  table  4)   60,  1927(2)     4;  5  
(49,  2069     4;  table  6)   (60,  1927(3)     3;  table  4)  
(49,  2440     3;  table  4)   60,  1930     5;  3  +  table  8  
(49,  2452     3;  table  4)   (60,  1999     5;  table  8)  
50,  1600     5;  1   60,  2022     5;  3  
50,  1194  app.  cr.   4;  6    
50,  1762     2;  13,  4;  13,     SGO  
(50,  1762     5;  table  8)   1,  01/01/07     5;  2  
(51,  1009     4;  table  6)   1,  01/12/02       5  (chapter  5.3)  
(51,  1707     3;  table  4)   1,  01/12/05     2;  2    
52,  620     2;  17,  4;  16   (1,  01/12/20     3;  table  4)  
52,  1245     4;  2   1,  02/09/24     3;  7  
52,  1587     2;  9   (1,  02/14/06     3;  table  4)  
(52,  1991     4;  table  6)   (1,  03/02/198     3;  table  4)  
52,  1918     5;  7   1,  03/06/06     4;  10  
+  5  (chapter  5.3)   1,  04/02/11     2;  13,  4;  13  
+  5;  table  8   1,  04/16/03   3;  24  (excluded  
53,  2176     4;  16   from  corpus)  
(53,  2191     5;  table  6)   (1,  04/24/16     3;  table  4)  
54,  1833     4;  3   (1,  05/01/18     3;  table  4)  
(55,  775     3;  table  4)   (1,  05/01/19     3;  table  4)  
(56,  1111     3;  table  4)   1,  05/01/32     3;  3  
(57,  1206     3;  table  4)   1,  05/01/57     3;  28  
57,  2092     3;  5   1,  05/01/65     3;  31  
(57,  2172     3;  table  4)   (1,  06/02/32     5;  table  8)  
58,  311     3;  16    
58,  1742     3;  31   2,  08/01/39     3;  26  
58,  1743     2;  9,  4;  5   (2,  08/01/41     4;  table  6)  
+  3;  table  4   2,  08/01/44     2;  15  
58,  1885     4;  12   (2,  08/01/49     3;  table  4)  
      +  3;  table  4   (2,  08/01/51     5;  table  8)  
        2,  08/04/05     3;  13  

  226  
SGO  
(2,  08/04/98     3;  table  4)  
2,  08/08/10     4;  3  
(2,  09/04/06     3;  table  4)  
(2,  09/06/99     4;  table  6)  
2,  09/07/09     3;  22  
2,  09/11/02     5;  6  
(2,  09/11/03     3;  table  4)  
2,  10/02/31     3;  1  
2,  10/03/04     4;  11  
(2,  11/07/05     3;  table  4)  
 
(3,  14/04/02     3;  table  4)  
3,  14/04/03     5;  7  
(3,  16/06/01     3;  table  4)  
3,  14/07/02     2;  6,  3;  21  
(3,  14/12/01     5;  table  8)  
3,  16/08/01     4;  9  
3,  16/31/93D     5;  5  
3,  16/55/03     4;  2  
 
(4,  17/06/02     5;  table  8)  
4,  17/06/05     2;  18  
(4,  17/09/01     3;  table  4)  
(4,  18/01/24     3;  table  4)  
(4,  18/01/26     3;  table  4)  
4,  19/10/01     3;  5  
4,  20/02/01     2;  12,  3;  19  
4,  20/06/01     3;  25  
4,  20/16/02     3;  17  
(4,  20/27/01     3;  table  4)  
(4,  21/07/01     3;  table  4)  
(4,  21/09/01     4;  table  6)  
4,  21/23/06     4;  5  
4,  21/24/02     2;  9  
 

  227  
   228  
BIBLIOGRAPHY  

Journal  abbreviations  follow  those  of  L’Année  Philologique.  

Editions  

AG  =  W.  Paton,  The  Greek  Anthology,  books  1–6  (London,  New  York  1916–1918).  

BÉ  =  Bulletin  épigraphique,  1938–  .  

BERNAND  Inscr.  Métr.  =  E.  Bernand,  Inscriptions  métriques  de  l’Égypte  Gréco-­‐
Romaine.  Recherches  sur  la  poésie  épigrammatique  des  Grecs  en  Égypte.  
Annales  littéraires  de  l'Université  de  Besançon  98  (Paris  1969).  

BURESCH  1898  =  K.  Buresch,  Aus  Lydien.  Epigraphisch-­‐geographische  Reisefrüchte.  

hrsg.  von  Otto  Ribbeck.  Mit  einer  von  H[einrich]  Kiepert  gezeichnten  Karte  
(Leipzig  1898,  reprint  Hildesheim  1977).  

CEG  =  P.  A.  Hansen,  Carmina  epigraphica  graeca  saeculorum  VIII-­‐V  a.  Chr.  n.  [vol.  I]  
and  ...  saeculi  IV  a.  Chr.  n.  [II].  ‘Texte  und  Kommentare’,  12,  15.    Vol.  I,  nos.  1–
465;  II,  nos.  466–901.  (Berlin  1983–1989).  

Corinth  8  =  B.  D.  Meritt  (ed.),  Corinth  8,  1.  The  Greek  Inscriptions  1896–1927  
(Cambridge,  Mass.  1931).  

COUGNY  =  E.  Cougny,  Epigrammatum  anthologia  palatine  cum  Planudeis  et  

appendice  nova  epigrammatum  veterum  ex  libris  et  marmoribus  ductorum.  
Annotatione  inedita  Boissonadii,  Chardonis  de  la  Rochette,  Bothii,  partim  
inedita  Jacobsiii,  metrica  versione  Hugonis  Grotii,  et  apparatus  critic.  Graece  
et  latine.  Volumen  III,  cum  indicibus  epigrammatum  et  poetarum  (Paris  1890).  

GVI  =  W.  Peek  (ed.),  Griechische  Vers-­‐Inschriften.  Vol.  I.  Grab-­‐Epigramme  (Berlin  
1955).  

ICr  =  IC  =  M.  Guarducci  (ed.),  Inscriptiones  Creticae,  4  vols.  (Rome  1935–1950).    

  229  
IG  =  Inscriptiones  Graecae  (1873–)  Berlin.  

IGPannonia  =  P.  Kovács,  Corpus  Inscriptionum  Graecarum  Pannonicarum.  Hungarian  

Polis  Studies  8  (Debrecen  2001).  

IK  Heraclea  Pont.  =  L.  Jonnes,  The  Inscriptions  of  Heraclea  Pontica.  With  a  
Prosopographia  Heracleotica  by  Walter  Ameling.  ‘Inschriften  griechischer  
Städte  aus  Kleinasien’  47  (Bonn  1994).  

IMT  Olympene  =  M.  Barth  and  J.  Stauber  (eds.),  Inschriften  Mysia  &  Troas  [IMT],  
Leopold  Wenger  Institut.  Universität  München.  Version  of  25.8.1993  (Ibycus).  
Packard  Humanities  Institute  CD  #7,  1996.  —  Mysia,  ‘Olympene’,  nos.  2680–
2796  (+  2801,  unbestimmter  Fundort).  —  Includes  (Hadrianoi  pros  Olympon):  
Elmar  Schwertheim.  Die  Inschriften  von  Hadrianoi  und  Hadrianeia,  
‘Inschriften  griechischer  Städte  aus  Kleinasien’  33  (Bonn  1987).    

KAIBEL  1878  =  G.  Kaibel,  Epigrammata  Graeca  ex  lapidibus  conlecta  (Berlin  1878).  

MAREK  1993  =  C.  Marek,  Stadt,  Ära  und  Territorium  in  Pontus-­‐Bithynia  und  Nord-­‐
Galatia.  ‘Istanbuler  Forschungen’  39  (Tübingen  1993),  157–187.  Anhang  5,  
‘Katalog  der  Inschriften  von  Amastris’.  

MCCABE  1988  =  D.  F.  McCabe,  Smyrna  Inscriptions.  Texts  and  List.  ‘The  Princeton  
Project  on  the  Inscriptions  of  Anatolia’  (Princeton  1988).  

OLYMPIA  5  =  W.  Dittenberger  and  K.  Purgold,  Die  Inschriften  von  Olympia  (=  Olympia  
5)  (Berlin  1896).  

RIFE  2008  =  J.  L.  Rife,  ‘A  Roman  Epitaph  from  the  Eastern  Corinthia‘  in  ZPE  164  
  (2008),  131–5.  

SARDIS  7  =  W.  H.  Buckler  and  D.  M.  Robinson  (eds.),  Sardis:  publications  of  the  
American  Society  for  the  Excavation  of  Sardis;  v.  7  Greek  and  Latin  
Inscriptions;  part  1  (Leiden  1932).  

SEG  =  Supplementum  Epigraphicum  Graecum  (Leiden  1923–1971;  Amsterdam  1979).    

  230  
SGO  =  R.  Merkelbach  and  J.  Stauber  (eds.),  Steinepigramme  aus  dem  griechischen  
Osten,  5  vols  (Stuttgart  and  Leipzig  1998–2004).  

Secondary  sources  

AGOSTI  2008  =  G.  Agosti,  ‘Literariness  in  epigraphical  poetry  of  Late  Antiquity’  in  K.  
Carvounis  and  R.  Hunter  (eds.),  Ramus  37  nos.  1  &  2  (Signs  of  Life?  Studies  in  
Later  Greek  Poetry)  (2008),  191–213.  

ANDERSON  1898  =  J.  G.  C.  Anderson,  ‘A  summer  in  Phrygia:  Part  II’  in  JHS  18  (1898),  
81–128.  

ARNSON  SVARLIEN  1991  =  D.  Arnson  Svarlien  (transl.),  Bacchylides.  Odes  (1991).  

Online  in  Perseus:  

http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Bacchyl.+Dith.+18&fromdoc=

Perseus%3Atext%3A1999.01.0064  

ARONSSON  1996  =  K.  Aronsson,  ‘Collaboration  in  Dialogue’  in  Handbook  of  
Pragmatics  Online,  DOI  10.1975/hop.2.col1.  (1996).  

ARVANITAKIS  1912  =  G.  Arvanitakis,  ‘Sur  quelques  inscriptions  grecques’  in  BIE  
(1912),  169–.  

ASGARI  AND  FIRATLı  1978  =  N.  Asgari  and  N.  Firatlı,  ‘Die  Nekropole  von  Kalchedon’  in  
S.  Şahir,  E.  Schwertheim  and  J.  Wayner  (eds.),  Studien  zur  Religion  und  Kultur  
Kleinasiens.  Festschrift  F.  K.  Dörner  (Leiden  1976),  56–7.  

AUSTIN  1962  =  J.  L.  Austin,  How  to  do  Things  with  Words  (Cambridge,  Mass.  1962).  

AUSTIN  AND  BASTINIANI  2002  =  C.  Austin  and  G.  Bastiniani,  Poseidippi  Pellaei  quae  
supersunt  omnia  (Mailand  2002).  

BACH  AND  HARNISH  1979  =  K.  Bach  and  R.  M.  Harnish,  Linguistic  Communication  
and  Speech  Acts  (Cambridge,  Mass.  and  London  1979).  

  231  
BACH  2005  =  K.  Bach,  ‘The  Top  10  Misconceptions  about  Implicature’,  in  B.  Binger  
and  G.  Ward  (eds.),  A  Festschrift  for  Larry  Horn.  
http://userwww.sfsu.edu/kbach/TopTen.pdf  

BAKHTIN  1986  =  M.  M.  Bakhtin,  Speech  Genres  and  Other  Late  Essays  (Austin  1986).  

BAKKER  1993a  =    E.  J.  Bakker,  ‘Activation  and  preservation:  the  interdependence  of  
text  and  performance  in  an  oral  tradition’  in  Oral  Tradition  8  (1993),  5–20.  

BAKKER  1993b  =  E.  J.  Bakker,  ‘Boundaries,  Topics  and  the  structure  of  discourse.  An  
investigation  of  the  Ancient  Greek  Particle  DÉ’  in  StudLang  17  (1993),  275–
311.  

BAKKER  2009  =  S.  J.  Bakker,  ‘On  the  curious  combination  of  the  particles  γάρ  and  
οὖν’  in  S.  J.  Bakker  and  G.  Wakker  (eds.),  Discourse  Cohesion  in  Ancient  Greek  
(Boston  2009),  41–61.  

BAL  1997  =  M.  Bal,  Narratology:  Introduction  to  the  Theory  of  Narrative  (revised  and  
expanded  second  edition)  (Toronto  1997).  

BAUMBACH,  PETROVIC  AND  PETROVIC  2010  =  M.  A.  Baumbach,  A.  Petrovic  and  I.  
Petrovic  (eds.),  Archaic  and  Classical  Greek  Epigram  (Cambridge  2010).  

BESIOS,  TZIPHOPOULOS  AND  KOTSONAS  2012:  M.  Besios,  I.  Tziphopoulos,  A.  
Kotsonas  (eds.),  Μεθώνη  Πιερίας  Ι:  Επιγραφές,  χαράγματα  και  εμπορικά  
σύμβολα  στη  γεωμετρική  και  αρχαïκή  κεραμική  από  το  ’Υπόγειο’  της  
Μεθώνης  Πιερίας  στη  Μακεδονία  (Thessaloniki  2012).  

BETTENWORTH  2007  =  A.  Bettenworth,  ‘The  mutual  influence  of  inscribed  and  
literary  epigram’  in  Bing  and  Bruss  (2007),  69–93.  

BING  1998  =  P.  Bing,  ‘The  literary  culture  of  early  Alexandria’  in  La  Gloire  
d’Alexandrie.  Musée  du  Petit  Palais  (Paris  1998),  133–5.  

BING  2002  =  P.  Bing,  ‘The  un-­‐read  Muse?  Inscribed  epigram  and  its  readers  in  
antiquity’  in  M.  A.  Harder,  R.  F.  Regtuit  and  G.  C.  Wakker  (eds.),  Callimachus  
(Groeningen  1993),  39–66.  

  232  
BING  2009  =  P.  Bing,  The  Scroll  and  the  Marble:  Studies  in  Reading  and  Reception  in  
Hellenistic  Poetry  (Ann  Arbor  2009).  

BING  AND  BRUSS  2007  =  P.  Bing  and  J.  Bruss  (eds.),  Brill’s  Companion  to  Hellenistic  
Epigram  (Boston  2007).  

BIRT  1911  =  T.  Birt,  ‘Orthographie  in  Athen’  in  RhM  66  (1911),  147–9.  

BLAKEMOORE  2004  =  D.  Blakemoore,  ‘Discourse  Markers’  in  L.  R.  Horn  and  G.  Ward  
(eds.),  The  Handbook  of  Pragmatics  (Oxford  2004),  221–40.  

BOWIE  1989  =  E.  L.  Bowie,  ‘Poetry  and  Poets  in  Asia  and  Achaia’  in  S.  Walker  and  A.  
Cameron  (eds.),  The  Greek  renaissance  in  the  Roman  Empire  (London  1989),  
189  –205.  

BRINKMANN  1911  =  A.  Brinkmann,  ‘Zur  Geschichte  der  Schreibtafel’  in  RhM  66  
(1911),  149–55.  

BROWN  2012  =  A.  R.  Brown,  ‘Last  Men  Standing:  Chlamydatus  Portraits  and  Public  
Life  in  Late  Corinth’  in  Hesperia  81,  no.  1  (2012),  141–76.  

BRUSS  2005  =  J.  S.  Bruss,  Hidden  Presences.  Monuments,  Gravesites  and  Corpses  in  
Greek  Funerary  Epigram  (Leuven  2005).  

BRUSS  2010  =  J.  S.  Bruss,  ‘Ecphrasis  in  fits  and  starts?  Down  to  300  BC’  in  Baumbach,  
Petrovic  and  Petrovic  (2010),  385–403.  

BURZACHECHI  1962  =  M.  Burzachechi,  ‘Oggenti  parlanti  nelle  epigrafi  greche’  in  
Epigraphica  24  (1962),  3–54.  

BUSCH  1999  =  S.  Busch,  Versus  balnearum:  die  antike  Dichtung  über  Bäder  und  
Baden  im  römischen  Reich  (Stuttgart  and  Leipzig  1999).  

CALDER  1912  =  W.  M.  Calder,  ‘Inscriptions  d’Iconium’  in  RPh  36  (1912),  48–77.  

CALDER  1932  =  W.  M.  Calder,  ‘Inscriptions  of  Southern  Galatia’  in  AJA  36  (1932),  
  452–  64.  

  233  
CHRISTIAN  2015  =  T.  Christian,  Gebildete  Steine.  Zur  Rezeption  literarischer  
Techniken  in  den  Versinschriften  seit  dem  Hellenismus  (Göttingen  2015).  

CLAIRMONT  1970  =  C.  Clairmont,  Gravestone  and  Epigram.  Greek  Memorials  from  
the  Archaic  and  Classical  Period  (Mainz  1970).  

COLLINGE  1998  =  N.  E.  Collinge,  ‘Thoughts  on  the  pragmatics  of  Ancient  Greek’  in  
PCPhS  214  (New  Series,  no.  34)  (1988),  1–13.    

DAVENPORT  2013  =  C.  Davenport,  ‘The  Governors  of  Achaia  under  Diocletian  and  
Constantine’  in  ZPE  184  (2013),  225–34.  

DAY  1989  =  J.  W.  Day,  ‘Rituals  in  stone.  Early  Greek  epigrams  and  monuments’,  in  
JHS  109  (1989),  16–28.  

DAY  2007=  J.  W.  Day,  ‘Poems  on  stone:  the  inscribed  antecedents  of  Hellenistic  
epigram’  in  Bing  and  Bruss  (2007),  29–47.  

DAY  2010  =  J.  W.  Day,  Archaic  Greek  Epigram  and  Dedication  (Cambridge  2010).  

DEGANI  1997  =  E.  Degani,  ‘Epigramm’  in  Der  Neue  Pauly  3,  (Stuttgart  1997),  1108-­‐
1114.  .  

DEL  BARRIO  VEGA  1989  =  M.  L.  Del  Barrio  Vega,  ‘Epigramas  dialogados:  orígenes  y  
estructura’  in  CFC(G)  23  (1989),  189–201.  

DENNISTON  1951  =  J.  D.  Denniston,  The  Greek  Particles  (Oxford  19512).  

DEPEW  1997  =  M.  Depew,  ‘Reading  Greek  prayers’  in  CA  16  (1997),  229–58.  

DÍAZ  DE  CERIO  1999  =  M.  Díaz  de  Cerio,  ‘Estructura  discursiva  en  el  epigrama  
funerario:  la  evolución  de  un  género’  in  Habis  30  (1999),  189–204.  

DIK  1995  =  H.  Dik,  Word  Order  in  Ancient  Greek.  A  Pragmatic  Account  of  Word  Order  
Variation  in  Herodotus  (Amsterdam  1995).  

DITTENBERGER  1878  =  W.  Ditternberger,  ‘Inschriften  aus  Olympia’  in  Archäologische  

Zeitung  36  (1878),  86–103.  

  234  
EDGAR  1927  =  C.  C.  Edgar,  ‘A  Greek  Epitaph’  in  ASAE  27  (1927),  31–2.  

FAIN  2008  =  G.  L.  Fain,  Writing  Epigrams.  The  Art  of  Composition  in  Catullus,  
Callimachus  and  Martial  (Collection  Latomus  312)  (Brussels  2008).  

FANTUZZI  2007  =  M.  Fantuzzi,  ‘Epigram  and  the  theater’  in  Bing  and  Bruss  (2007),  
477–95.  

FANTUZZI  AND  HUNTER  2002  =  M.  Fantuzzi  and  R.  Hunter,  Muse  E  Modelli.  La  Poesia  
Ellenistica  da  Alessandro  Magno  Ad  Augusto  (Bari  2002).  

FANTUZZI  AND  HUNTER  2004  =  M.  Fantuzzi  and  R.  Hunter,  Tradition  and  Innovation  
in  Hellenistic  Poetry  (Cambridge  2004).  

FARAONE  1996  =  C.  A.  Faraone,  ‘Taking  the  Nestor's  Cup  Inscription  Seriously:  
Conditional  Curses  and  Erotic  Magic  in  the  Earliest  Greek  Hexameters’  in  CA  
15  (1996),  77–112.    

FERRANDINI  TROISI  2000  =  F.  Ferrandini  Troisi,  La  donna  nella  società  
ellenistica:  testimonianze  epigrafiche  (Bari  2000).  

FONTRIER  1900  =  A.-­‐M.  Fontrier,  ‘Antiquités  d'Ionie:  I.  Les  bains  d'Agamemnon;  II.  
Inscription  de  Smyrne;  III.  Épitaphe  métrique  de  Mersinii;  V.  Épitaphe  
métrique  de  Smyrne’  in  REA  2  (1900),  249–55.  

FRIEDLÄNDER  1987[1948]  =  P.  Friendländer,  Epigrammata.  Greek  Inscriptions  in  

Verse.  From  the  Beginning  to  the  Persian  Wars  (Chicago  repr.  1987  [1948]).  

GARULLI  2014  =  V.  Garulli,  ‘Conversazioni  in  limine  mortis:  forme  di  dialogo  esplicite  
e  implicite  nelle  iscrizioni  sepolcrali  greche  in  versi’  in  C.  Pepe  and  G.  Moretti  
(eds.),  Le  Parole  dopo  la  morte.  Forme  e  funzioni  della  retorica  funeraria  nella  
tradizione  greca  e  romana  (Trento  2014).  

GENTILI  1968  =  B.  Gentili,  ‘Epigramma  ed  elegia’  in  A.  E.  Raubitschek  (ed.),  
L’epigramme  grecque  (=  Fondation  Hardt,  Entretiens  sur  l’antiquité  classique  
14)  (Geneva  1968),  39–90.  

  235  
GOW  AND  PAGE  1965  =  A.  S.  F.  Gow  and  D.  L.  Page  (eds.),  The  Greek  Anthology.  
Hellenistic  Epigrams,  2  vols.  (Cambridge  1965).  

GOW  AND  PAGE  1968  =  A.  S.  F.  Gow  and  D.  L.  Page  (eds.),  Anthologia  Graeca.  The  
Greek  anthology:  the  Garland  of  Philip  and  some  contemporary  epigrams  
(Cambridge  1968).  

GRAF  AND  JOHNSTON  2007  =  F.  Graf  and  S.  I.  Johnston,  Ritual  Texts  for  the  Afterlife:  
Orpheus  and  the  Bacchic  Gold  Tablets  (London  and  New  York  2007).  

GRICE  1975  =  P.  Grice,  ‘Logic  and  conversation’  in  P.  Cole  and  J.  L.  Morgan  (eds.),  
Syntax  and  Semantics,  volume  3:  Speech  Acts  (New  York  1975),  41–58.  

GUARDUCCI  1942  =  M.  Guarducci,  ‘Le  iscrizioni  Greche  di  Venezia’  in  RIA  9  (1942),  7–
53.  

GUTZWILLER  1998  =  K.  J.  Gutzwiller,  Poetic  Garlands:  Hellenistic  Epigrams  in  Context  
(Berkeley  1998).  

GUTZWILLER  2005  =  K.  J.  Gutzwiller,  The  New  Posidippus.  A  Hellenistic  Poetry  Book  
(Oxford  2005).  

GUTZWILLER  2007  =  K.  J.  Gutzwiller,  A  Guide  to  Hellenistic  Literature.  Blackwell  
Guides  to  Classical  Literature  (Malden,  MA  2007).  

HALL  1979  =  A.  S.  Hall,  ‘Who  was  Diogenes  of  Oinoanda?’  in  JHS  99  (1979),  160–3.  

HALL  AND  MILNER  1994  =  A.  S.  Hall  and  N.  Milner,  Studies  in  the  History  and  
Topography  of  Lycia  and  Pisidia.  In  memoriam  A.  S.  Hall  (The  British  Institute  
of  Archaeology  at  Ankara,  Monograph  19,  1994).    

HANINK  2010  =  J.  Hanink,  ‘The  Epitaph  for  Atthis:  a  Late  Hellenistic  Poem  on  Stone’  
in  JHS  130  (2010),  15–34.  

HANSEN  1983  =  P.  A.  Hansen  (ed.),  Carmina  Epigraphica  Graeca  I.  Saeculorum  VIII–V  
a.  Chr.  n.  (Berlin  and  New  York  1983).  

  236  
HANSEN  1989  =  P.  A.  Hansen  (ed.),  Carmina  Epigraphica  Graeca  II.  Saeculi  IV  a.  Chr.  
n.  (Berlin  and  New  York  1989).  

HANSEN  1998  =  W.  Hansen  (ed.),  Anthology  of  Ancient  Greek  Popular  Literature  
(Bloomington  and  Indianapolis  1998).  

HARRIS  1989  =  W.  V.  Harris,  Ancient  Literacy  (Cambridge,  Mass.  1989).  

HARTIGAN  1979  =  K.  Hartigan,  The  Poets  and  the  Cities.  Selections  from  the  
Anthology  about  Greek  cities  (Beiträge  zur  klassischen  Philologie,  87).  
(Meisenheim  am  Glan  1979).  

HERZOG  1936  =  R.  Herzog,  ‘Catulliana’  in  Hermes  71  (1936),  338–50.  

HICKS  1887  =  E.  L.  Hicks,  ‘Iasos’  in  JHS  8  (1887),  83–118.  

HOGARTH  1887  =  D.  G.  Hogarth,  ‘Inscriptions  from  Salonica’,  in  JHS  8  (1887),  339–61.  

HÄUSLE  1979  =  H.  Häusle,  Einfache  un  frühe  Formen  des  griechischen  Epigramms  
(Innsbruck  1979).  

INGLESE  2010  =  A.  Inglese,  ‘ΓΡΑΜΜΑ  ΜΑΝΥΕΙ  ΤΟΔΕ  (IG  XII  3,  220)  ’  in  Epigrammata  

Iscrizioni  Greche  e  Comunicazione  Letteraria  in  Ricordo  di  G.  Susini  (Atti  del  

Convegno  di  Roma,  1-­‐2  ottobre  2009),  (Tivoli  2010),  377-­‐390.    

ISAGER  1998  =  S.  Isager,  ‘The  Pride  of  Halikarnassos.  Editio  princeps  of  an  inscription  
from  Salmakis’  in  ZPE  123  (1998),  1–23.  

JENKS  2012  =  C.  Jenks,  ‘Analysis  of  Dialogue’  in  The  Encyclopedia  of  Applied  
Linguistics.  Online  publication,  DOI:  10.1002/9781405198431.wbeal0019.  

JOHNSON  AND  PARKER  2009  =  W.  A.  Johnson  and  N.  W.  Parker  (eds.),  Ancient  
Literacies.  The  Culture  of  Reading  in  Greece  and  Rome  (Oxford  2009).  

KAJAVA  2007  =  M.  Kajava,  ‘Iscrizioni  come  documenti  letterari’  in  M.  Mayer  i  Olivé,  
G.  Baratta  and  A.  Guzmán  Almagro  (eds.),  Acta  XII  Congressus  Internationalis  
Epigraphiae  Graecae  et  Latinae:  Barcelona,  3–8  Septembris  2002  (Inst.  

  237  
 d'Estudis  Catalans.  Monogr.  de  la  Secció  Històrico-­‐Arqueològica  10),  
Barcelona  2007,  vol.  I,  753–6.  

KASSEL  1983  =  R.  Kassel,  Kleine  Schriften  (Berlin  1983).  

KAUPPINEN  (FORTHCOMING)  =  S.  Kauppinen,  ‘Is  it  not  carved  in  stone?  References  
to  monuments  in  the  dialogue  verse  inscriptions’  in  A.  Petrovic,  I.  Petrovic  
and  E.  Thomas  (eds.),  Materiality  of  Text  (forthcoming).  

KAYGUSUZ  1983  =  I.  Kaygusuz,  ‘Kimistene'den  Yazıtlar’  in  Türk  Arkeoloji  Dergisi  26,  
no.  2  (1983),  111–46.  

KEENAN  1976  =  E.  Keenan  (Ochs),  ‘On  the  universality  of  conversational  postulates’  
in  Language  in  Society  5,  no.  1  (1976),  67–80.  

KROON  1995  =  C.  Kroon,  Discourse  Particles  in  Latin:  A  Study  of  nam,  enim,  autem,  
vero  and  at  (Amsterdam  1995).  

KURKE  2000  =  L.  Kurke,  ‘The  strangeness  of  ‘song  culture’:  Archaic  Greek  poetry’  in  
O.  Taplin  (ed.),  Literature  in  the  Greek  and  Roman  Worlds.  A  New  Perspective  
(Oxford  2000),  58–87.  

KÜCHNER  AND  GEHRT  1904  =  R.  Kühner  and  B.  Gerth,  Ausführliche  Grammatik  der  
griechischen  Sprache,  II  Teil:  Satdehre,  3rd  ed.  (Hannover-­‐Leipzig  1904).  

KÜNZLE  1933  =  P.  Künzle,  ‘Sopra  un  epigramma  alessandrino’,  in  RFIC  61  (1933),  76–
7.  

LAMBROS  1905  =  S.  P.  Lambros,  ‘Αἱ  ἀνασκαφαὶ  τοῦ  Παναθηναϊκοῦ  σταδίου  καὶ  ἡ  
στήλη  τοῦ  ὀρθογράφου’  in  Νέος  Ἑλληνομνήμων  2,  no.  3  (1905),  257–76.  

LE  BAS-­‐WADDINGTON  1870  =  P.  Le  Bas  and  W.-­‐H.  Waddington,  Voyage  

archéologique  en  Grèce  et  en  Asie  Mineure  fait...pendant  les  années  1843  et  
1844.  2e  partie:  Inscriptions  grecques  et  latines  recueilles  en  Grèce  et  en  Asie  
Mineure.  1:  Attique.  Section  1:  Actes  religieux  (Paris  1847  [1870]).  

  238  
LEWIS  AND  SHORT  1879  =  C.  T.  Lewis  and  C.  Short,  Harpers'  Latin  Dictionary:  A  New  
Latin  Dictionary  Founded  on  the  Translation  of  Freund's  Latin-­‐German  Lexicon  
edited  by  E.A.  Andrews  (New  York;  Cincinnati  1879).  

LIDDEL  AND  LOW  2013  =  P.  Liddel  and  P.  Low,  Inscriptions  and  their  uses  in  Greek  
and  Latin  Literature  (Oxford  2013).    
LLOYD-­‐JONES  1999  =  H.  Lloyd-­‐Jones,  ‘The  Pride  of  Halicarnassus’  in  ZPE  124  (1999),  
1–14.  

LGPN  II  =  M.  J.  Osborne  and  S.  G.  Byrne  (eds.),  A  Lexicon  of  Greek  Personal  Names.  
Volume  II:  Attica  (Oxford  1995).  

LSJ  =  H.  G.  Liddell,  R.  Scott  and  H.  S  Jones,  A  Greek-­‐English  Lexicon  (With  Revised  
Supplement  1996,  eds.  P.  G.  W.  Glare  and  A.  A.  Thompson)  (Oxford  19409).  

LÖWY  1887  =  E.  Löwy,’Antike  Sculpturen  auf  Paros’  in  AEM  11  (1887),  147–88.  

MACKAIL  1906  =  J.  W.  Mackail,  Select  epigrams  from  the  Greek  Anthology.  Edited  
with  revised  text  translation,  introduction  and  notes  (London  1906).  

MANGO  1986  =  C.  Mango,  ‘Epigrammes  honorifiques’  in  Ἀφιέωμα  στόν  Νίκο  
Σβορῶνο  (Rethymno  I,  1986).  

MARSHALL  1916  =  F.  H.  Marshall,  The  collection  of  Ancient  Greek  Inscriptions  in  the  
British  Museum,  vol.  IV  (London  1916).  

MARTINEZ  FERNÁNDEZ  2006  =  A.  Martinez  Fernández,  Epigramas  Helenísticos  de  

Creta,  Manuales  y  Anejos  de  "Emerita"  48  (Madrid  2006).  

MASSÉGLIA  2015  =  J.  Masséglia,  Body  Language  in  Hellenistic  Art  and  Society  (Oxford  
2015).  

MASTROKOSTAS  1964  =  E.  Mastrokostas,  ‘Inscriptions  de  Locride  et  de  Thessalie’  in  
REA  66  (1964),  311–2.  

MERRIAM  WEBSTER  =  Merriam-­‐Webster  online  dictionary:  http//www.merriam-­‐

webster.com/netdict.htm  

  239  
MERRIFIELD  1987  =  R.  Merrifield,  The  Archaeology  of  Ritual  and  Magic  (London  
1987).  

MEYER  2005  =  D.  Meyer,  Inszeniertes  Lesevergnügen.  Das  inschriftliche  Epigramm  

und  seine  Rezeption  bei  Kallimachos  (Stuttgart  2005).  

MEYER  2007  =  D.  Meyer,  ‘The  act  of  reading  and  the  act  of  writing  in  Hellenistic  
epigram’  in  Bing  and  Bruss  (2007),  187–210.  

MICHEL  1927  =  C.  Michel,  Recueil  d’  inscriptions  grecques  supplément  II  (Brussels  
1927).  

MITCHELL  1993  =  S.  Mitchell,  Anatolia:  Land,  Men  and  Gods  in  Asia  Minor  (New  York  
1993).  

MOMIGLIANO  1932  =  A.  Momigliano,  ‘Per  la  data  e  la  caratteristica  della  lettera  di  
Aristea’  (appendice)  in  Aegyptus  12  (1932),  171–2.  

MORPURGO  DAVIES  1997  =  A.  Morpurgo  Davies,  ‘Particles  in  Greek  Epigraphical  
Texts’  in  A.  Rijksbaron  (ed.),  New  Approaches  to  Greek  Particles:  proceedings  
of  the  colloquium  held  in  Amsterdam,  January  4–6,  1996,  to  honour  C.  J.  
Ruijgh  on  the  occasion  of  his  retirement  (Amsterdam  1997),  49–73.  

MORRISON  2012  =  A.  D.  Morrison,  The  Narrator  in  Archaic  and  Hellenistic  Poetry  
(Cambridge  2012).  

MOYSEY  1988  =  R.  A.  Moysey,  ‘Greek  Funerary  Monuments  in  Mississippi’  in  ZPE  72  

(1988),  88-­‐89.  

MÄNNLEIN-­‐ROBERT  2007  =  I.  Männlein-­‐Robert,  ‘Epigrams  on  Art:  Voice  and  

Voicelessness  in  Hellenistic  Epigram’  in  Bing  and  Bruss  (2007),  251–71.  

NISBET  2003  =  G.  Nisbet,  Greek  Epigram  in  the  Roman  Empire:  Martial's  Forgotten  
Rivals  (Oxford  2003).  

NORSA  1931  =  M.  Norsa,  ‘Iscrizione  sepolcrale  metrica’  in  BSAA  26  (1931),  234–6.  

  240  
OCD3  =  S.  Hornblower  and  A.  Spawforth  (eds.),  Oxford  Classical  Dictionary.  3rd  rev.  
ed.  (Oxford  and  New  York  [1996]  2003).  

OHMANN  1972  =  R.  Ohmann,  ‘Speech,  Literature,  and  the  Space  Between’  in  New  
Literary  History  4,  no.  1,  The  Language  of  Literature  (1972),  47–63.  

OLIVER  1981  =  J.  H.  Oliver,  ‘Marcus  Aurelius  and  the  philosophical  schools  at  Athens’  
in  AJPh  102  (1981),  213–25.  

PAGE  1981  =  D.  L.  Page,  Further  Greek  Epigrams.  Epigrams  before  AD  50  from  the  
Greek  Anthology  and  other  Sources  not  included  in  ‘Hellenistic  Epigrams’  or  
‘The  Garland  of  Philip’  (Cambridge  1981).  

PEEK  1931  =  W.  Peek,  ‘Griechische  Epigramme’  in  AM  56  (1931),  119–34.  

PEEK  1932  =  W.  Peek,  ‘Griechische  Epigramme  aus  Aegypten’  in  Bulletin  de  la  société  
Archéologique  d’Alexandrie  27  (1932),  53–4.    

PEEK  1960  =  W.  Peek,  Griechische  Grabgedichte  (Berlin  1980).  

PERROT,  GUILLAUME  AND  DELBET  1872  =  G.  Perrot,  E.  Guillaume  and  J.  Delbet  
(eds.),  Exploration  archéologique  de  la  Galatie  et  de  la  Bithynie  (d’une  partie  
de  la  Mysia,  de  Phrygie,  de  la  Cappadoce  et  du  Pont)  (Paris  1872).  

PETERS  AND  THIERSCH  1905  =  J.  P.  Peters  and  H.  Thiersch  in  S.  A.  Cook  (ed.),  Painted  
Tombs  in  the  Necropolis  of  Marissa  (Marêshah)  (London  1905).  

PETROVIC  2007  =  A.  Petrovic,  ‘Inscribed  epigram  in  pre-­‐Hellenistic  literary  sources’  in  
Bing  and  Bruss  (2007),  49–68.    

PFEIFFER  1953  =  R.  Pfeiffer,  Callimachus,  vol.  II  (Oxford  1953).  

PFOHL  1967  =  G.  Pfohl,  Poetische  Kleinkunst  auf  altgriechischen  Denkmälern.  

Ausgesuchte  Inschriften  mit  Übersetzungen  und  Erläuterungen  (München  
1967).  

PFUHL  –  MÖBIUS  1979  =  E.  Pfuhl  and  H.  Möbius,  Die  Ostgriechische  Grabreliefs.  
Textband  I  (Mainz  1979).  

  241  
PREUNER  1894  =  E.  Preuner,  ‘Datirungen  Griechisches  Inschriften  des  II.  
Jahrhunderts  v.  Chr.’  in  Hermes  29  (1894),  550–2.  

PSATHAS  1995  =  G.  Psathas,  Conversation  analysis:  the  study  of  talk-­‐in-­‐interaction  
(Thousand  Oaks,  CA  1995).  

PUELMA  1996  =  M.  Puelma,  ‘Ἐπίγραμμα  –  epigrammma:  Aspekte  einer  

Wortgeschichte’  in  MH  53  (1996),  123–39.  

PUELMA  1997  =  M.  Puelma,  ‘‘Epigramma’:  Osservazioni  sulla  storia  di  un  termine  
greco-­‐latino’  in  Maia  49  (1997),  189–213.  

RADCLIFFE  2009  =  G.  Ed.  Radcliffe,  ‘Who  Are  You?  Mythic  Narrative  and  Identity  in  
the  ‘Orphic’  Gold  Tablets’  in  G.  Casadio  and  P.  A.  Johnston  (eds.),  Mystic  cults  
in  Magna  Graecia  (Austin  2009),  73–95.    

RADCLIFFE  2010  =  G.  Ed.  Radcliffe,  The  ‘Orphic’  Gold  Tablets  and  Greek  Religion:  
Further  Along  the  Path  (Cambridge  and  New  York  2010).  

RASCHE  1910  =  G.  Rasche,  De  Anthologiae  Graeca  epigrammatis  quae  colloquii  
formam  habent.  Commentationem  philologam  consensu  et  auctoritate  
amplissimi  philosophorum  physicorumque  in  universitate  Guilelma  Guestfala  
ordinis  ad  summos  in  philosophia  honores  rite  capessendos  (München  1910).  

REITZENSTEIN  1893  =  R.  Reitzenstein,  Epigramm  und  Skolion.  Ein  Beitrag  zur  
Geschichte  der  alexandrinischen  Dichtung  (Giessen  1893).  

ROBERT  1936  =  L.  Robert,  Collection  Froehner:  I,  Inscriptions  Grecques  (Paris  1936).  

ROBINSON  1905  =  D.  M.  Robinson,  ‘Greek  and  Latin  Inscriptions  from  Sinope  and  
Environs’  in  AJA  9  (ser.  2)  (1905),  294–333.  

ROUECHÉ  2004  =  C.  Roueché,  Aphrodisias  in  Late  Antiquity:  The  Late  Roman  and  
Byzantine  Inscriptions  (Revised  second  edition  2004):  
http://insaph.kcl.ac.uk/ala2004/inscription/eAla037.html.  

ROULET  ET  AL.  1985  =  E.  Roulet,  A.  Auchlin,  J.  Moeschler,  C.  Rubattel  and  M.  
Schelling,  L’articulation  du  discours  en  français  contemporain  (Bern1985).  

  242  
ROUSSEL  1914  =  P.  Roussel,  ‘Une  inscription  funéraire  d’Égypt’,  in  REA  16  (1914),  
349–50.  

RUIJGH  1971  =  C.  J.  Ruijgh,  Autour  de  ‘τε  épique’.  Études  sur  la  syntaxe  grecque  
(Amsterdam  1971).    

SACKS,  SCHEGLOFF  AND  JEFFERSON  1974  =  H.  Sacks,  E.  Schegloff  and  G.  Jefferson,  ‘A  
simplest  systematics  for  the  organization  of  turn-­‐taking  for  conversation’  in  
Language  50  (1974),  696–735.  

SAYAR  1998  =  M.  H.  Sayar,  Perinthos-­‐Herakleia  (Marmara  Ereğlisi)  und  Umbegung.  
Geschichte,  Testimonien,  griechische  un  lateinische  Inschriften  (Vienna  1998).  

SCHIFFER  1972  =  S.  R.  Schiffer,  Meaning  (New  York  1972).  

SCHMITZ  2010a  =  T.  A.  Schmitz,  ‘Epigrammatic  Communication  in  Callimachus’  

Epigrams’  in  GRBS  50  (2010),  370–90.  

SCHMITZ  2010b  =  T.  A.  Schmitz,  ‘Speaker  and  addressee  in  early  Greek  epigram  and  
lyric’  in  Baumbach,  Petrovic  and  Petrovic  (2010),  25–41.  

SCHWARTZ  1950  =  J.  Schwartz,  ‘Épitaphes  Grecques  d’Égypte’  in  Annales  du  Servie  
des  Antiquites  de  l’Égypte  50  (1950),  401–10.  

SCODEL  1992  =  R.  Scodel,  ‘Inscription,  Absence  and  Memory:  Epic  and  Early  Epitaph’  
in  SIFC  85  (1992),  57–76.  

SEARLE  1969  =  J.  R.  Searle,  Speech  Acts.  An  Essay  in  the  Philosophy  of  Language  
(London  1969).  

SEARLE  1979  =  J.  R.  Searle,  Expression  and  meaning:  Studies  in  the  theory  of  speech  
acts  (Cambridge  1979).  

SEYRIG  1951  =  H.  Seyrig,  ‘Epigramme  funeraire  des  environs  de  Marathus’  in  Syria  28  
(1951),  220–5.  

SIRONEN  1997  =  E.  Sironen,  The  Late  Roman  and  Early  Byzantine  Inscriptions  of  
Athens  and  Attica  (Helsinki  1997).  

  243  
SKEAT  1941  =  T.  C.  Skeat,  ‘An  Epitaph  from  Hermopolis’  in  JEA  27  (1941),  68–9.  

SMITH  1892  =  A.  H.  Smith,  A  Catalogue  of  Sculpture  in  the  Department  of  Greek  and  
Roman  Antiquities.  British  Museum,  vol.  1  (London  1892).    

SOURVINOU-­‐INWOOD  1995  =  C.  Sourvinou-­‐Inwood,‘Reading’  Greek  Death:  to  the  

End  of  Classical  Period  (Oxford  1995).  

SVENBRO  1988  =  J.  Svenbro,  Phrasikleia.  Anthropologie  de  la  lecture  en  Grèce  
ancienne  (Paris  1988).  

SVENBRO  1993  =  J.  Svenbro,  Phrasikleia.  An  Anthropology  of  Reading  in  Ancient  
Greece,  translation  J.  Lloyd  (Ithaca,  NY  and  London  1993).  

TEN  HAVE  1999  =  P.  Ten  Have,  Doing  Conversation  Analysis:  A  Practical  Guide  
(London  1999).  

THOMAS  1992  =  R.  Thomas,  Literacy  and  Orality  in  Ancient  Greece  (Cambridge  1992).  

THOMAS  1998  =  R.  Thomas,  ‘‘Melodius  Tears’:  Sepulchral  Epigram  and  Generic  
Mobility’  in  M.  A.  Harder,  R.  F.  Regtuit  and  G.  C.  Wakker  (eds.),  Genre  in  
Hellenistic  Poetry  (Groeningen  1998),  205–23.  

THREATTE  1980  =  L.  Threatte,  The  Grammar  of  Attic  Inscriptions,  vol.  1.  Phonology  
(Berlin  1980).  

TOD  1951  =  M.  N.  Tod,  ‘A  teetotaller’s  epitaph’  in  Hermanathena  77  (1951),  20–4.  

TUELLER  2008  =  M.  A.  Tueller,  Look  Who’s  Talking.  Innovations  in  Voice  and  Identity  
in  Hellenistic  Epigram  (Leuven  2008).  

TUELLER  2010  =  M.  A.  Tueller,  ‘The  passer-­‐by  in  archaic  and  classical  epigram’  in  
Baumbach,  Petrovic  and  Petrovic  (2010),  42–60.  

VÉRILHAC  1978-­‐1982  =  A.-­‐M.  Vérilhac,  ΠΑΙΔΕΣ  ΑΩΡΟΙ.  Poésie  funéraire.  Textes  et  
commentaire,  I-­‐II  (Athens  1978-­‐1982).  

  244  
VESTRHEIM  2010  =  G.  Vestrheim,  ‘Voice  in  sepulchral  epigrams:  some  remarks  on  
the  use  of  first  and  second  person  in  sepulchral  epigrams,  and  a  comparison  
with  lyric  poetry’  in  Baumbach,  Petrovic  and  Petrovic  (2010),  61–78.  

WACHTER  2010  =  R.  Wachter,  ‘The  origin  of  epigrams  on  ‘speaking  objects’’  in  
Baumbach,  Petrovic  and  Petrovic  (2010),  250–60.  

WADDELL  1941  =  W.  G.  Waddell,  ‘Epitaph  of  Harpalus  and  his  son  Achilles  (Chapter  
VII,  Funerary  Epitaphs)’  in  S.  Gabra  (ed.),  Rapport  sur  les  fouilles  
d’Hermoupolis  ouest  (1941),  107–9.  

WAKKER  2009  =  G.  V.  Wakker,  ‘’Well  I  will  now  present  my  arguments’.  Discourse  
cohesion  marked  by  oun  and  toinyn  in  Lysias’  in  S.  J.  Bakker  and  G.  Wakker  
(eds.),  Discourse  Cohesion  in  Ancient  Greek  (Boston  2009),  63–81.  

WALSH  1991  =  G.  B.  Walsh,  ‘Callimachean  Passages:  The  Rhetoric  of  Epitaph  in  
Epigram’,  Arethusa  24  (1991),  77–105.  

WECOWSKI  2014  =  M.  Wecowski,  The  Rise  of  the  Greek  Aristocratic  Banquet  (Oxford  
2014).  

WELLES  1938  =  C.  B.  Welles,  ‘The  Inscriptions’  in  C.  H.  Kraeling  (ed.),  Gerasa.  City  of  
the  Decapolis  (New  Haven  1938),  355–616.  

WEST  1982  =  M.  L.  West,  Greek  Metre  (Oxford;  New  York  1982).  

WILHELM  1949  =  A.  Wilhelm,  ‘Διάφορα’  in  SO  27  (1949),  25–39.  

WOLFE  2013  =  M.  Wolfe,  Cut  These  Words  Into  My  Stone  (Maryland  2013).  

ZUCKER  1954  =  F.  Zucker,  ‘Grabgedicht  aus  Herakleopolis’  in  JEA  40  (1954),  118–23.  

  245  
Ancient  authors453  

Agathias  Scholasticus       AG  7.552  

Bacchylides           Dithyramb  18  

Callimachus         AG  7.317    

Eratosthenes  Scholasticus       AG  5.242  

Homer           Odyssey  1.1  

Julianus,  Prefect  of  Egypt       AG  7.33,  AG  7.576,  AG  7.603  

Leonidas  of  Alexandria     AG  7.548  

Leonidas  of  Tarentum       AG  7.316,  AG  9.320  

Macedonius  the  Consul     AG  5.233  

Paulus  Silentiarius       AG  7.307,  AG  5.250  

Plato           Protagoras  335d  

Posidippus           AG  16.275    

Simonides           AG  16.23  

Socrates  (pseudo-­‐)       AG  14.3  

Synesius  Scholasticus       AG  16.267  

                                                                                                                         
453
 I  refer  to  the  authors  in  AG  with  the  AG  number.  For  other  dialogue  epigrams  of  AG  (not  further  
discussed  in  this  study),  see  Appendix  B.  

  246