Soon did I make th' Exciseman sick
Of such a mortifying trick:
His gauging-rod was heard to crack
In many a stroke upon his back,
Till, by his supplicating tone,
I found I had aveng'd my own.
But though the marks were brush'd with care,
By the same hand which trac'd them there;
And though I was most warmly prest,
By the kind master of the feast,