A certaine thing liueth in place neere at hande,
Whose nature is straunge, if it bee well scand:
It sees without eyes, it flyes without winges.
It runnes without feete, it workes wondrous thinges.
To places far distant it often doth rome:
Yet neuer departeth, but taryes at home.
If thou doe it couet to feele or to see,
Thy labour is lost, for it may not bee.