There is a thing that nothing is, <br />A foolish wanton, sober wise; <br />It hath noe wings, noe eyes, noe eares, <br />And yet it flies, it sees, it heares; <br />It lives by losse, it feeds on smart, <br />It joyes in woe, it liveth not; <br />Yet evermore this hungry elfe <br />Doth feed on nothing but itselfe.<br /><br />William Strode<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-jealousy/
