Practice Typing

For every vein and pulse throughout my frame She hath made tremble. He, soon as he saw That I was weeping, answerd, Thou must needs Another way pursue, if thou wouldst scape From out that savage wilderness. This beast, At whom thou criest, her way will suffer none To pass, and no less hindrance makes than death. So bad and so accursed in her kind, That never sated is her ravenous will, Still after food more craving than before.