text_original: "Much good they do you, up in a row there, making you a slave to furbishing them. There's more sense in a chair like this—that does rest a man's bones. Here, Camilla, girl, unlace my helmet! What, know'st not how? What is a woman made for but to let a soldier free of his trappings? Thou hast done it!
text_transcription: MUCH GOOD THEY DO YOU UP IN A ROW THERE MAKING YOU A SLAVE TO FURBISHING THEM THERE'S MORE SENSE IN A CHAIR LIKE THIS THAT DOES REST A MAN'S BONES HERE CAMILLA GIRL UNLACE MY HELMET WHAT KNOWS NOT HOW WHAT IS A WOMAN MADE FOR BUT TO LET A SOLDIER FREE OF HIS TRAPPINGS THOU HAST DONE IT
phonemes: "mˈʌtʃ ɡˈʊd ðeɪ dˈuː juː, ˌʌp ˌɪnɐ ɹˈoʊ ðˈɛɹ, mˌeɪkɪŋ juː ɐ slˈeɪv tə fˈɜːbɪʃɪŋ ðˌɛm. ðɛɹz mˈɔːɹ sˈɛns ɪn ɐ tʃˈɛɹ lˈaɪk ðˈɪs—ðæt dˈʌz ɹˈɛst ɐ mˈænz bˈoʊnz. hˈɪɹ, kæmˈɪlə, ɡˈɜːl, ʌnlˈeɪs maɪ hˈɛlmɪt! wˌʌt, nˈoʊst nˌɑːt hˈaʊ? wˌʌt ɪz ɐ wˈʊmən mˌeɪd fɔːɹ bˌʌt tə lˈɛt ɐ sˈoʊldʒɚ fɹˈiː ʌv hɪz tɹˈæpɪŋz? ðˈaʊ hˈeɪst dˈʌn ɪt!