Hostages

“He that hath wife and children hath given hostages to fortune.”—Bacon.

Aye, Fortune, thou hast hostage of my best!

I, that was once so heedless of thy frown,
Have armed thee cap-à-pie to strike me down,

Have given thee blades to hold against my breast.
My virtue, that was once all self-possessed,

Is parceled out in little hands, and brown
Bright eyes, and in a sleeping baby’s gown:

To threaten these will put me to the test.

Sure, since there are these pitiful poor chinks

Upon the makeshift armor of my heart,

For thee no honor lies in such a fight!

And thou wouldst shame to vanquish one, me-thinks,

Who came awake with such a painful start

To hear the coughing of a child at night.