The current Archaeology magazine has a great short piece entitled "Savoring the Grape (for Romans, wine was the elixir of life, from cradle to grave)" by Stuart J. Fleming. I was going to put up the URL at Archaeology.org because it's a great historical/linguistic/culinary read, but unfortunately this piece is only in abstract instead of full text, so I'll have to excerpt it. There were words for degrees of partying in ancient Rome (and Greece), and their correct usage was essential for the socially astute. Convivium and comissatio in Rome and symposium in Greece designated different types and times of the feasting.

"...While etiquette may have been on shaky ground in a typical Roman wine bar, it was upheld during the convivium, a dining event structured around the family and a circle of friends. In Roman literature, the luxury usually associated with this kind of setting brings to mind the Greek symposium from which it derived some of its structure. But their common threads are somewhat superficial. While the Greeks went out of their way to ensure social equality among their invitees, a Roman patron would without hesitation host a convivium for his inferior amici and clientes--associates, long-standing or briefly met, who might be the means to business or political advantages. Unlike the symposium, which was in essence a drinking bout that followed a meal, the convivium was decidedly a banquet, with emphasis on richly prepared and novel food, the partaking of which was a pleasure--a conviviality--that would be accompanied by a generous flow of wine.
Two lengthy works of the second century A.D., Plutarch of Chaeronea's Table Talk and Athenaeus of Naucratis' Banquet of the Philosphers, provide us with a detailed insight into the way that a convivium might proceed throughout the evening. The convivium was intended to be a joyous event. Invariably there would be music, and at livelier gatherings there might be acrobats and mock gladiatorial battles.
The convivium also was a place to be philosophical about matters of substance, even if, in the sober light of morning, such matters shrank somewhat in consequence. In this setting folks might get caught up in a discussion of the fables of Aesop as parables for real Roman life and of how best not to give offense to a freedman guest whose memories of enslavement were scarcely a few years past. Amid all this chatter and banter would have been endless ponderings on the purpose and effects of wine in Roman society. The issue of the appropriate dilution of wine was also debated intensely, often with brilliant scholarly recourse to literature, past and near-forgotten. Athenaeus makes it clear that greek custom was to mix three parts of water to one of wine--thus, in social shorthand, a "Triton"--and it looks likely that Roman wine connoisseurs went along with that ratio. But one of Plutarch's guests, Aristion, argued humorously in favor of a three to two mix, claiming that it would be in perfect harmony with the fifth concord of a lyre, to the the tune of which so much drunken revelry took place. [my note: were these people serious about their wine, or what! --and continuing with the paragrah preceeding the first] Roman taste, at least during the Republican and Imperial eras, leaned heavily toward sweeter wines which, because they were made from later season grapes, tended to be quite alcoholic. The Romans took their lead from long-standing Greek custom, adding at least some measure of water to the wine or, in elite circles, a few ladles of melting snow. The degrees of dilution applied probably depended on the setting. While entertaining friends within the home, around quarter strength would be normal; among a raucous crowd in the city's tavern, perhaps dilution was forgotten altogether.
The convivium, with its emphasis on food, simple entertainment, and fluid conversation was one thing; the comissatio was quite another. This was truly a Roman drinking party. It most likely took those guests who were still around at the end of a convivium far into the night hours and assuredly put them deep into their cups.

As you can see there's not much historical detail on the comissatio, I guess, because, they usually forgot most of the details! And we thought we had the market cornered on partying back in the '60's and '70's...we weren't even close, we were just sloshes! These folks were convivial artistes!
If anyone has any more to ask or offer on the linguistic juxtaposition of these words, or knows of words in any language, dead or alive, that similarly denote the nuance of partying, please feel free.