“Come, boy, you who serve out the old Falernian,
fill up stronger cups for me,
as the law of Postumia, mistress of the revels, ordains,
Postumia more tipsy than the tipsy grape.
But water, begone, away with you, water,
destruction of wine, and take up abode
with scrupulous folk. This is the pure Thyonian god.”
More Entries
- Serving-boy, fill for me stronger cups of old Falernian, since Postumia, the mistress’s, laws demand it,
- Take two ounces of hops, and boil them, three or four hours
- Landlord fill the flowing bowl, until it doth run over
- Here’s a bumper of wine; fill thine, fill mine:
- Beer once tasted like something. It was made out of malt and hops
- An over-indulgence of anything, even something as pure as water
- “For our food, I slaughtered sheep and oxen, day by day; with beer, oil and water, I filled large jugs.”
- Beer that is not drunk has missed its vocation
- “Pure water is the best gifts a man can bring. But who am
- Pour out the wine without restraint or stay, Pour not by cups, but by the bellyful,