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Text Details
 
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My love is as a fever, longing still for that which longer nurseth the disease, feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, the uncertain sickly appetite to please.
— Sonnet 147
 (poem)
by William Shakespeare
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| Language: | English |
| Submitted by: | pentalon |
This text has been typed
more than
1000 times:
| Avg. speed: | 62 WPM |
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| Avg. accuracy: | 95.9% |
Top 10 scores for this text
| User | Speed | Accuracy | Points | Place | Date | Options | |
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| 1 | joshua728 | 240 WPM | 100.0% | 116 | 1/2 | June 7, 2021 |
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| 2 | arenasnow | 208 WPM | 100.0% | 101 | 1/2 | May 2, 2019 |
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| 3 | flaneur | 207 WPM | 100.0% | 100 | 1/2 | June 18, 2023 |
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| 4 | mononym_jisoo | 189 WPM | 99.0% | 91 | 1/2 | April 19, 2023 |
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| 5 | mako640 | 187 WPM | 100.0% | 90 | 1/2 | Aug. 1, 2019 |
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| 6 | primalknight | 186 WPM | 100.0% | 90 | 1/2 | April 6, 2024 |
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| 7 | atthetop | 174 WPM | 99.0% | 84 | 1/2 | Aug. 16, 2019 |
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| 8 | keegant | 173 WPM | 100.0% | 84 | 1/2 | March 17, 2022 |
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| 9 | volhosis | 172 WPM | 100.0% | 83 | 1/2 | July 18, 2019 |
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| 10 | eikomaniac | 171 WPM | 99.0% | 83 | 1/3 | Sept. 7, 2019 |
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