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typeracer

Pit Stop

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No, Faustus, curse thyself, curse Lucifer that hath deprived thee of the joys of Heaven. Oh, it strikes, it strikes! Now, body, turn to air, or Lucifer will bear thee quick to hell! O soul, be chang'd into little water-drops and fall into the ocean, ne'er be found. My God, my God, look not so fierce on me. Adders and serpents, let me breathe awhile. Ugly hell, gape not, come not, Lucifer! I'll burn my books! Ah, Mephistopheles!
Language: English
Submitted by: Vielle
This text has been typed 23 times:
Avg. speed: 109 WPM
Avg. accuracy: 97.8%

Top 10 scores for this text

User Speed Accuracy Points Place Date Options
1 nothisisjohn 145 WPM 99.0% 189 1/2 May 4, 2024
2 pastashapes 141 WPM 99.0% 183 1/2 April 4, 2024
3 charlieog 132 WPM 99.0% 172 1/2 April 4, 2024
4 keegant 127 WPM 99.0% 162 1/2 Jan. 16, 2024
5 clergy 106 WPM 97.0% 137 1/2 May 9, 2024
6 slowtexts 99 WPM 98.0% 127 1/1 Jan. 14, 2024
7 mark40511 93 WPM 99.0% 121 1/2 Jan. 22, 2024
8 rektless 86 WPM 98.0% 110 1/2 Jan. 17, 2024