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Updated: June 28, 2025
I can step in and out of mine like a glove; only to-night, although not EBRIUS, I am, in the classic phrase, VINO CIBOQUE GRAVATUS." By this time he was unshelled, and stood before the fire musing with a face of drunken wisdom on the events of the evening. What seemed chiefly to interest him, was the character of Allan M'Aulay.
"No offense," resumed Abel. "I don't mean he despises you in particular, but all bar-room bobtails." His voice thickened rapidly. "Of all mean, mis-mis-rabble hounds, he thinks you are the dirt-est." Still no reply was made. The honorable gentleman looked at his guests leeringly, but found no responsive glance. "In vino veritas," whispered Condor to his neighbor Belch.
In vino veritas, old boy. Mars, Bacchus, Apollo virorum, hey? I wish my aunt would send down some of this to the governor; it's a precious good tap." "You had better ask her," Machiavel continued, "or make the best of your time now. What says the bard?
In vino veritas! ... Tell me did I, all by myself, turn that too-experienced head of yours?" "You're doing it now," he said. She laughed deliciously. "Now? Am I? Yes, I know I am. I've made a lot of men think hard to-night.... I didn't know I could; I never before thought of it.... And even you, too?... You're not very serious, are you?" "Yes, I am.
It was highly instructive the contrast between that impeccable personality which he displays at home and his present state. I wish his wife and two little girls could have caught a few shreds of what he said just a few shreds; they would have seen a new light on dear daddy. In vino veritas.
And in spite of the exaggeration and extravagance which shield themselves under the claim of poetic license, I venture to affirm that "In vino veritas" is not truer than In carmine veritas.
Knave, give me my due, I like a tart as well as you; But I would starve on good roast beef, Ere I would look so like a thief. The Queen of Hearts. Nune vino pellite curas; Cras ingens iterabimus aequor. Horace. The next morning I received a note from Guloseton, asking me to dine with him at eight, to meet his chevreuil.
"It is good, I hope," the major said, as the barrel was set down in one corner of the room. "I think that it is the best they have; one of the girls went down with Tim into the cellar and pointed it out to him. I told him to ask her for bueno vino. I don't know whether it was right or not, but I think she understood." "How much does it hold, O'Grady?"
Let there be a minuet, a country-dance, and an allemande, he had said to Leporello in that dizzying song of instruction which whirls past our senses like a mad wind: "Finch' han dal vino." No one so happy as Mozart when it came to providing the music for these dances. Would you connoisseurs in music like counterpoint?
Christian was sent out into the storm to look for supplementary rooms in Montepulciano, which he failed to get. Meanwhile we ordered supper, and had the satisfaction of seeing set upon the board a huge red flask of vino nobile. In copious draughts of this the King of Tuscan wines, we drowned our cares; and when the cloth was drawn, our friend and Christian passed their night upon the supper table.
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