'True, quoth he,' likeness does the heart incline;
Greatness loves greatness without farther search,
Yet crawling ivies lofty elms entwine,
1080And gall-less turtles with the eagles perch.
I baulk your greatness: for as good, not great,
I homage pay, and loves alarums beat.
Those airy titles which ambition swell,
And puff like bladders [are] like bladders burst,
The worldling's goddess, which in chests does dwell,
Is gnawn with rust, and makes the chesters curst.